Divorce Is Impossible

"We should get a divorce."

"Meet me tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock at Lewis Mansion. We need to talk."

Baylee Morrison was propped against the bar, her eyes fixed on her phone. Her grip on the device was so tight that her knuckles whitened, a stark contrast to the dark bar atmosphere.

The two messages signaled the imminent end of her three-year marriage to Julian Lewis. A whirlwind of emotions surged through her.

Julian hadn't bothered to discuss the divorce with her beforehand.

Their marriage, if it could even be called that, had been suffocating. Baylee had not met Julian in person even after they got married. With a bitter smile, she tossed back a glass of wine.

The dance floor was alive with revelers, the club's vibrant scene a stark contrast to Baylee's inner turmoil. This was Breross' most exclusive club, a playground for the rich.

Baylee's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Linda Wright, her closest friend.

Linda had coaxed Baylee out tonight to toast the imminent end of her celibate marriage and the prospect of returning to single life.

But Linda was nowhere to be seen. Baylee signaled the bartender. "Another brandy, please."

Her concerns were not solely about her impending divorce; her career was at a standstill.

Star Company, where she worked, had not been receiving any major orders recently. Without a turnaround, she faced financial jeopardy.

She downed another brandy, seeking solace in its burn.

After a few rounds, the alcohol kicked in, causing her to feel slightly dizzy.

Baylee checked the clock, realizing it was well past their agreed meeting time and puzzled by Linda's absence.

Right on cue, her phone rang—it was Linda calling.

"Sorry, Baylee!" Linda's urgent voice came from the other end, sounding breathless. "My boss sprung a last-minute trip on me. I can't make it tonight. Rain check?"

"It's okay. Take care of your work," Baylee responded, her tone forgiving.

Linda's voice carried a hint of mischief over the phone. "Baylee, since I can't be there, I've arranged a little surprise for you. I've booked a very charming companion for you in Room 777. Have fun!"

Baylee hesitated, her initial instinct was to decline. "But... I'm not sure that's wise. I'm still technically married."

Linda cut her off with a mix of frustration and indignation, "What marriage? Your husband of three years has barely acknowledged you, and now he wants a divorce out of the blue! He hasn't shown you any respect, so you don't need to consider his feelings."

Baylee's emotions churned as she listened.

Anger and self-pity surged within her.

Considering Julian's neglect over the past three years and his sudden desire for divorce, she thought maybe it was time to seek her own happiness.

"You're right," Baylee admitted, clutching her phone. The alcohol in her system lent her a rare boldness. "I don't owe Julian anything."

"Exactly!" Linda's voice was triumphant. "Go on, enjoy yourself."

After ending the call, Baylee rose, her movements a bit unsteady, and made her way to Room 777.

Determined to shed the frustrations of the past three years, she approached the door. The room number blurred and danced before her eyes as she pushed the door open and entered.

Inside, a man sat on the sofa, his back to her.

His posture exuded elegance.

At the sound of her entrance, he turned around, his expression detached.

Baylee squinted in the dim light, trying to discern his features.

The man before her had striking features, his handsome face framed by deep, penetrating eyes and full lips, lending him an air of sophistication.

Baylee found herself momentarily captivated by the sight, reinforcing Linda's assertion of his allure.

Julian, on receiving such unexpected attention, was equally surprised.

Encounters of this nature were not entirely new to him, so he responded with a frosty, "Leave."

Baylee, not quite herself due to the alcohol, ignored his command and drew closer, looping her arms around his neck.

"I have a thing for men with a wild side..." she murmured to Julian, her voice a drunken slur.

Enthralled by Julian's strong chest, Baylee felt emboldened and daringly pecked his cheek. She playfully tapped his face, locking eyes with him. "Handsome, you bear such a resemblance to my husband. Haha."

Julian, typically reserved and distant from women, found this proximity unusual. Surprisingly, he didn't push her away, experiencing an odd, unfamiliar warmth.

Yet, his patience had its limits.

With a swift move, Julian detached Baylee from himself, grabbed an ice bucket, and doused her with its contents, his tone sharp. "Wake up and see who you're really with."

The shock of the cold jolted Baylee to clarity. As she gazed at the man before her, a cool detachment reflected on his face.

With his visage now fully imprinted in her mind, a shocking realization dawned on her.

This man was Julian, her husband, unseen for three years, whom she had just mistaken for a gigolo!