Chapter 3

Olivia's POV

The photo showed a woman’s hand with pale pink nails resting gently on a man’s wrist.

The watch on the man's wrist was one I knew too well—it was the birthday present I had bought for Ethan last year.

Below the photo was a text message:

【He’s on his way to see you right now, Olivia. Guess whose bed he just got out of?】

I stared at the text, a sharp pain twisting my stomach.

I didn't reply.

I tossed my phone into my purse and walked away from the crowd.

My car was parked at the end of the block.

My driver, Joe, noticed my pale face and immediately got out to open the door for me.

"Are we heading home, ma'am?"

I sat in the backseat, pausing for a long moment before saying, "Not yet."

Joe glanced at me through the rearview mirror but didn't ask questions. "Where to, then?"

I gave him an address.

It was a small consulting firm located in an old building in the industrial district. It had a very ordinary name: The Clean Slate Agency.

Three years ago, I had helped the founder of this agency during a charity gala.

When she handed me her business card, she had said only one thing: “If there ever comes a day when you need to safely disappear from your life, Olivia, call me.”

Back then, I thought it was ridiculous.

I had Ethan. Why would I ever need to disappear?

The city lights blurred past my window. I closed my eyes, but I couldn't block out the voices from the video.

"Ethan, I'm pregnant."

"We are keeping this baby."

I suddenly recalled the first time Madeline, his mother, had told me to my face that the family legacy couldn't end with a barren woman.

That night at the dinner table, everyone had gone dead silent. Only Ethan had put down his fork, his voice icy.

"I married Olivia because I love her, not to use her as an incubator."

At that moment, I genuinely believed I was cherished.

But people change.

And vows turn into the ultimate mockery.

The Clean Slate Agency was on the twelfth floor.

The receptionist recognized me immediately. Without any surprise, she quietly led me into a private conference room.

Ten minutes later, a middle-aged woman in a sharp gray suit walked in.

"Olivia, it’s been a while."

I looked at her. "Sam, I need you to arrange my disappearance."

Sam sat down, pushing a glass of warm water toward me without asking probing questions.

"A divorce, moving abroad, a new identity, or cutting all ties completely?"

I wrapped my hands around the warm glass, the heat stinging my cold palms.

After a long silence, I spoke.

"A fake death."

Sam’s eyes flickered.

"Olivia, that’s not a standard package. It means leaving everything you own behind. Your wealth, your social circle, your status, and even your name."

"I know."

"Ethan is a powerful man. If he suspects anything, he will dig until he finds the truth. It will be very difficult."

I looked up. "That's why I need you to make it absolutely flawless."

Sam studied me for a few seconds. "Timeline?"

I looked out the window.

In the distance, the giant billboard was still flashing Ethan's face, playing his confession on a loop like a beautiful knife repeatedly slicing open my heart.

My voice was dead calm. "One month."

Sam asked, "Why one month?"

I lowered my eyes.

Because I wanted to see just how deep Ethan could cut me before I left.

And because fifteen years of marriage deserved a clean, final wrap-up.

But I didn't say any of that.

I just set the glass down, my voice as quiet as falling dust.

"I want Olivia to be completely dead to Ethan’s world in exactly one month."