Chapter 1

The TV in the office was playing news of Isabella's return to the States.

His eyes never left the screen.

Not even when I handed him the paperwork.

A mansion in Westshore—one of those ocean-view places money alone can't buy.

But to Spencer?

It meant nothing.

Just like me.

The news ended, and he was in such a good mood.

He twirled his pen after signing and handed the documents back with a smirk.

"That's gotta be what—your sixtieth property?"

"You're basically a millionaire now."

The joy in his voice wasn't for me.

It was for her.

His golden girl, back in town.

I stood in front of him and gave a faint smile.

"That Westshore house overlooks the water. I really like it."

I didn't bother telling him—

That was house number one hundred.

Back when he was chasing me, Spencer got rejected 99 times.

But he never gave up.

After the hundredth try, I said yes, and we got married.

His love didn't last long.

Only until the day Isabella first came back.

It was our first wedding anniversary.

He'd planned a candlelight dinner.

I waited for him under fairy lights, heart full of love.

Instead, I got a couriered deed and a text.

"Sorry, Valentina. I messed up our anniversary. Please forgive me."

I ignored the perfume clinging to his shirt.

And forgave him. The first time.

To be fair, I decided to give him 99 chances.

Then came the second time.

The third.

The fourth...

In five years, he left me countless times—for her.

Eventually, he started preemptively giving me properties before disappearing again.

From house one to house ninety-nine.

And each time, I forgave him.

But now?

This is time number one hundred.

And Spencer?

You're out of chances.

I smiled, finally at peace, watching him.

He paused, eyes flickering.

I could almost see guilt behind them.

Then he murmured, "When I get back, I'll take you to see the fireworks."

In the past, even the tiniest crack in his armor would make me hope.

I'd cry.

Beg.

Only to have him pry my fingers off his sleeve, one by one.

"Psycho," he'd whisper coldly.

I've been that psycho ninety-nine times.

But today?

I'm done pretending.

Because hidden in that stack of papers he just signed...

Was our divorce.

Spencer.

Thirty days from now, we'll be nothing but strangers.

Chapter 2

Countdown: 25 days.

The past five days, his usually clean-cut social feed had blown up.

They were feeding pigeons at Riverwalk Plaza by day, watching parades from the hotel rooftop at night.

Every moment, captured and shared.

He never mentioned the fireworks he promised me.

I sighed and started packing.

I'd barely cleared the mess when Spencer's assistant called.

"Ma'am, don't forget—8 PM, Firefly Bridge."

"The fireworks show. Please don't skip it."

"If anything goes wrong, Spencer will kill me."

Eight years of marriage—and he's still the only one who calls me "ma'am."

The only person who knows I'm Spencer's wife.

I didn't want to make it hard for him.

So I agreed.

But when I actually got close to Firefly Bridge, I hesitated.

Five years ago, when we'd just tied the knot...

Spencer secretly arranged a private fireworks show for me.

His assistant had tipped me off then, too.

Five years later, same bridge.

But I'm not the same woman.

The place was packed.

Tourists everywhere.

Even some news crews.

I started wondering if I'd mixed up the date.

So I called Spencer.

Busy signal.

I called again.

Still nothing.

I'm not even sure what I was hoping for.

But no answer.

And no Spencer.

It was nearly 8.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "It's starting!"

"This is the fireworks show Spencer planned for his fiancée."

"Guess we're lucky to crash it!"

I froze.

Spencer had always played the role of a bachelor in public.

That "fiancée" couldn't be me.

Had to be her.

I knew the best view was from the north end of the bridge.

Since I was already here...

Might as well watch.

Fireworks can't lie.

But the crowd was thick, and I got pushed forward.

Right into the front row.

That's when I saw him.

Spencer.

Holding Isabella in the best spot, arms wrapped tight.

Fireworks lit up the sky behind them.

And I heard his voice—over the noise, over the cheers.

Confessing his love to her.

A reporter shoved a mic toward Isabella.

"And your answer, ma'am?"

Spencer pulled her close, eyes full of hope.

Isabella smiled shyly, opened her mouth...

And that's when our eyes met.

Spencer flinched, shocked.

"Valentina…"

And just like that, the crowd went silent.

Even the fireworks faded into the background.

Everyone was looking.

At him.

At me.

Isabella turned toward me and raised a brow.

"Who's that?"

Spencer looked like he'd swallowed glass.

Trying to think of a way out.

I smiled and answered, loud and clear.

"I'm Valentina. Spencer's…"

He panicked, tried to stop me.

But I finished the sentence—

"Cousin."

His tension melted in an instant.

He even nodded in approval.

He never wanted me known as his wife.

And his mother agreed.

That's why she always made me call her "aunt" in public.

For five years, I've been the perfect secret.

The show went on.

And no one cared about me anymore.

Then the rain started.

Heavy, sudden.

Spencer rushed to get Isabella out of the storm.

"She's sensitive to cold—excuse us!"

He shielded her like glass.

Got her in the car.

Left me standing in the rain.

Soaked to the bone.

But not cold.

Guess after five years of this marriage…

I'd stopped feeling anything a long time ago.

Chapter 3

I got home and took a long, hot shower. 

When I came out, Spencer was in the living room. 

He hesitated for a second, then actually said thanks. 

"Anyway... thanks for helping me out back there." 

"I mean... we're technically still married."

"If it came out right then, it would've made Isabella look bad." 

"I'll… I'll find the right time to make our relationship public." 

I didn't bother reminding him. 

There's no relationship left to announce. 

This marriage is over. 

Might as well pretend it never existed. 

It's better for both of us. 

Then he suddenly remembered to care. 

"But why were you even there?" 

I smiled a little and looked straight at him. 

I didn't say a word. 

Not until he started shifting uncomfortably under my gaze. 

"It was Mr. Whitmore who invited me," I finally said. 

Then it hit him. 

Tonight's fireworks show— 

He'd promised it to me weeks ago. 

But life with Isabella was just too sweet. 

He forgot all about me. 

"I'm sorry. Next week—no, next week I've got a business trip."

"How about next month? I swear I'll take you then." 

I shook my head. 

"Let's just see how it goes." 

Spencer looked satisfied with my "maturity." 

He gently wrapped his arms around me. 

But I'd never felt a hug so cold in my life. 

The next day, he really did go on his trip. 

With Isabella. 

They had candlelit dinners in between meetings. 

Visited museums in the next state. 

Tried that coastal seafood shack he always refused to take me to. 

He once said, "A CEO eating that kind of stuff? It's beneath me." 

But with Isabella, Spencer had no ego, no title. 

Just a guy completely in love with her. 

Three days to go. 

Spencer finally came back. 

I hadn't contacted him once during the whole two-week trip. 

He looked around the spotless house and suddenly seemed to realize something— 

Maybe for the first time in five years. 

"Babe… you've really been holding things down here. Thank you." 

It had been so long since he called me that. 

I couldn't even remember the last time. 

"I was thinking, maybe we could go see fireworks the day after tomorrow, but… the city banned them this year." 

I could tell he never planned on taking me. 

Isabella probably said something. 

"Don't worry about it," I replied. 

He blinked, surprised. 

"You… really don't mind?" 

Back then, I would've lost it. 

Yelled at him for always breaking his promises. 

But now? 

I didn't care anymore. 

"It's just fireworks. I'll live." 

Same with Spencer. 

I'd live without him. 

He was quiet for a while, then said, 

"Then maybe we can go check out that property in Westbrook the day after tomorrow?" 

"They're doing a river lantern thing out there."

"You can see it from the house." 

I glanced at my phone. 

That day was Valentine's Day. 

And he was planning to spend it with me? 

Yeah, right. 

He was just throwing me a bone. 

"You sure you won't be with Isabella that night?" 

Spencer stiffened a little. 

"I've been with her for a while."

"It's only fair I spend some time with you too." 

Even he seemed to realize how ridiculous that sounded. 

He looked down, guilty. 

I didn't call him out. 

Just went along with it. 

Played my part. 

After all, that day wasn't just Valentine's Day. 

It was also the day our divorce became official. 

A fitting way to say goodbye.