Love No Longer Pure

1
I was out shopping with my best friend this morning when I saw himKris Lockwood, my cool and composed husband, standing at the Chanel counter. He was buying the very haute couture gown Id had on reserve for weeks.
That evening, the gown appeared on his executive assistant.
I didnt make a scene. Instead, a playful, dangerous smile touched my lips. I had every identical Chanel gown from every boutique in the city delivered and piled up in front of him.
Let him buy them all.
My best friend, Nicole, had already drafted the divorce papers for me overnight. I have the money and the looks. The one thing Im not short on is men.
At the annual company gala, I drifted through the crowd, a glass of red wine in hand, laughing with the division heads from our various branches. The dance floor was just starting to fill as the music swelled.
Thats when Kris made his grand, belated entrance, his assistant on his arm.
I watched, from across the hall, as he stopped at the entrance to adjust the Chaumet brooch on Cathys dress. A faint smile played on his lips, his eyes full of doting affection, clearly pleased with his handiwork. Kris always did have an impeccable eye for detail; with that small adjustment, Cathys delicate features were instantly elevated, making her almost worthy of the Chanel gown she was wearing.
In that single moment, every fantasy Id clung to shattered.
When Id seen him leaving the boutique that morning, Id been so sure he was picking up the dress for me. My heart had felt so full, so happy. Id even had my makeup artist create a look specifically to match it. But as the minutes ticked by and the gala began, the dress never arrived.
I called him, my tone light and probing, asking if he had a surprise for me. He brushed me off with a few words about being busy, but I caught itthe sweet, saccharine voice of another woman in the background.
"Mr. Lockwood, do you think Mrs. Lockwood will be upset?"
"Don't worry," he'd replied. "She has enough clothes to open her own boutique."
It was then I understood. The man I married was no longer purely mine.
Now, Cathy stood before me, her face tilted up in a sweet smile, a pair of familiar, charming dimples deepening in her cheeks. "Mrs. Lockwood, you look stunning tonight."
Her compliment did nothing to soften my gaze. My eyes turned cold, raking over her from head to toe. "That's a lovely dress. It's the same model I had on order from Chanel."
We were all smart people here. Some things didn't need to be spelled out. A fresh college graduate, not even a year into her first job, couldn't possibly afford a twenty-thousand-dollar gown.
My stare made her squirm. Cathy bit her lip, her hands twisting nervously in front of her as she shot desperate glances at Kris.
Kris met my eyes, his expression as placid as ever. "Anna, don't misunderstand. Cathy mentioned she'd never been to a gala like this, never worn couture." He gestured vaguely. "She's been working so hard, showing so much initiative. I just grabbed it for her on a whim."
I arched an eyebrow and nodded, then gave my assistant a subtle signal.
A moment later, a line of thirteen Chanel sales associates, all dressed in immaculate uniforms, marched into the hall. Each carried an identical gown, and they advanced in a formidable, smiling line until they stood before Kris.
He looked at me, confused.
I leaned against a carved pillar, my arms crossed, a smirk playing on my lips. "Time to pay up."
I let my gaze sweep over the other executives in the room. "All thirteen of our division heads brought their assistants tonight. Every single one of them is hardworking and full of initiative. You wouldn't play favorites, would you, Kris? Not and give a gift only to your own assistant?"
Cathy knew I was publicly humiliating them. The color drained from her face, leaving it a stark white. When she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Mrs. Lockwood, please don't make things difficult for Mr. Lockwood. It's all my fault. I'll return the dress right now."
Listen to that. As if I was the one making a scene, the cruel wife tearing apart two innocent lovebirds.
"Cathy, is it?" I said, my voice dangerously soft. "You're overthinking things. Thirteen dresses is hardly 'making things difficult.' Kris grew up with someone to pick the bones out of his fish for him. It's perfectly normal that he wouldn't understand the implications of a man giving a woman a dress." My eyes narrowed. "But you're his personal assistant. You're supposed to be more aware of these things. Didn't you know better?"
Cathy dropped her head in panic, mumbling apologies.
Kris Lockwoodhis looks, his family, his careerwas the complete package. He was a star, brilliant and untouchable for most of his life, with countless women vying for his attention. Yet, for years, he'd maintained a cool, detached independence. Any woman who tried to get too close was met with nothing but a cold, distant stare.
He was the one who had held me in his arms on countless nights, whispering softly in my ear that I was the only thing in his world worth cherishing.
But everything had changed. Now, I could see it in his eyes: a flicker of pity and protectiveness for another woman.
With a faint, resigned smile, Kris shook his head. He pulled a black card from his jacket and handed it to the lead sales associate. Then he walked over to me, his arm sliding around my waist, his gaze locking with mine. Over the swell of the music, his deep, pleasant voice murmured in my ear.
"It's just a dress, Anna. I didn't realize you cared so much. Scaring the poor girl is one thing, but I'd hate to see you get so worked up. It breaks my heart."
His tone was light, almost joking, as if this were all a trivial misunderstanding. He effortlessly shifted the focus away from Cathy.
A cold smirk spread across my lips. My fingers, pale and slender, curled around his silk tie, and I pulled him closer, inch by inch. "Cathy has a crush on you. You're a smart man, Kris. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
I paused, letting the words hang between us. "I know a couple million is nothing to you. But this is the first time something like this has happened. I expect it to be the last."
The employees around us, assuming we were flirting, erupted in a chorus of good-natured hoots and whistles.
We were so close I could feel his breath on my skin. A flush crept up Kris's neck, and the first crack appeared in his carefully composed facade. He frowned, a hint of discomfort in his eyes. "Anna, not here. What will the staff think?"
"There's nothing between Cathy and me besides a professional relationship. You're imagining things."
I let out a soft scoff and released his tie. Humiliating him here would be easy, but it wouldn't do me any favors either. Getting into a public feud with some bland, watery girl was beneath me.
Id made my point. For now, I decided to let it go. Besides, I had no concrete proof of an affair.
Taking his arm, I walked with him to the stage to deliver the annual address on our company's stellar performance this year.
The other executives' assistants, all savvy women, delightedly collected their new gowns. They made sure to parade past Cathy on their way out.
"We have you to thank, sweetie. If it weren't for you, we'd probably never get to wear something so expensive in our lives."
"To Mr. Lockwood, giving away a dress is like handing a piece of candy to a child. You're not going to get any silly ideas about him, are you?"
"My, those eyes... and those dimples... they look so familiar. No wonder Mr. Lockwood took a special interest in you."
One after another, their faces were masks of mockery, their words dripping with warning. Cathy had probably never been humiliated like this in her life. Her head sank lower and lower, as if she wished the floor would swallow her whole. Fat tears splattered silently onto the marble.
As soon as the crowd thinned, she fled the hall with red-rimmed eyes. She didn't come back.
After the dinner, we made a tactful early exit, leaving the younger employees to enjoy the rest of their night. The moment I got in the car, I knew something was wrong. My passenger seat had been adjusted. And stuck to the corners of the sun visor were several cute anime girl stickers.
No one but me ever dared treat Kris as a chauffeur, and no one was clueless enough to sit in my seat. I knew exactly who had been here.
A sudden, inexplicable rage ignited within me. I hated to admit it, but in that moment, my scalp tingled with fury, my reason slipping away. Finding out he'd given my dress to Cathy had been one thinga waste of a good gown. But thisher leaving a trace of herself in my private spacewas a declaration of war.
In five years of marriage, I had never been this angry. I wanted to slap him across the face, kick him out of the car, and then drive at top speed to wherever Cathy was and give her a piece of my mind.
I was about to confront him when his phone rang.
Kris, completely oblivious to my simmering rage, answered the call. It was Cathy.
I started yanking at the seat controls, my movements jerky and aggressive.
"Okay, don't worry," I heard him say. "I'm on my way."
My hand froze. I slowly lifted my head and stared at him.
He frowned slightly. "Cathy's at the boutique trying to return the dress, but she doesn't have the receipt. I need to go." He was already looking past me, his mind elsewhere. "Anna, I'll call the driver to pick you up. You go on home."
The words caught in my throat. "You're leaving me here? For something so trivial?"
"Anna, don't make this difficult," he sighed. "The girl's pride is wounded. After what you did, she cried until her voice was raw. All she wants now is to return that dress."
"Is her pride wounded, or is she just provoking me in front of you? Couldn't she just come and get the receipt herself?"
Kris rubbed the bridge of his nose, his voice weary. "Anna, is it really necessary to torment a new hire like this? When did you learn to throw your weight around? This isn't like you."
The white-hot anger that had been consuming me vanished, replaced by a wave of crushing disappointment. It was almost laughable.
"Throwing my weight around?" I echoed. "Kris, you have never, not once, defended another woman to menot even your own mother. This is a first."
A flicker of confusion crossed his handsome face.
"When we got married," I continued, my voice dangerously calm, "we made a deal. For the sake of both our families' reputations, you wouldn't play around, and I wouldn't waste my nights in clubs. Are you really going to break that rule for her?"
His gaze turned deep and cold. He was silent for a long moment before finally dialing the number for our family driver. Then, he leaned over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and spoke in a flat, even tone.
"You're always so forceful, Anna. We're husband and wife, not just strategic partners. Outside of work, can't you be a little more like other wives? Can't you try to rely on me, to yield just a little?"
He pulled back, his decision made. "I'll handle things with Cathy, then I'm going to spend the night at my parents' estate. I think we both need some time to cool off."
So that was it. He was tired of me. Bored. And now he was desperate to feel his masculine power with some other woman. He used to tell me he admired my decisiveness, my sharp, take-charge attitude more than anything.
What a pathetic, high-minded excuse to pin all the blame on me.
I got out of the car without another word, watching the black Maybach disappear from sight.
I had given him a chance. He didn't take it.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend.
"Nikki," I said, my voice steady. "Draft the divorce papers."
I never wanted it to come to this. Our families, the Lockwoods and the Archers, had been friends for generations. Kris and I were childhood sweethearts, though wed lost touch for about a decade when he went abroad for his studies. We reconnected at the dinner our families arranged to discuss our engagement. He was polished and charming, handling the elders' questions with an easy grace.
In the years he was gone, I'd thrown myself into the family business, but Id also spent my fair share of nights at high-end clubs, decompressing with male models. I thought things would be awkward between us after so long, but when we were alone, I discovered a witty, humorous soul hidden beneath his composed exterior. That old, familiar feeling from our youth came rushing back.
We were both ambitious, at the peak of our careers. We admired each other, and soon, we were engaged and married. Our union was more than a marriage; it was a merger. Lockwood Industries and Archer Enterprises became intertwined, our stocks mutually held. Divorcing him would be a financial nightmare.
Back at home, I showered, drank a glass of warm milk, and prepared for bed. My phone buzzed with a message from Kris. Goodnight, it read, followed by a kissing emoji. Even in the midst of a cold war, he never failed to perform the perfunctory duties of a husband.
The next morning, as I was walking into my office building, a young man with bleached-blond hair nearly knocked me over. My Herms Himalaya bag slammed onto the pavement, scuffing the exotic leather. The coffee and breakfast he was carrying flew through the air, splashing all over the hem of my cashmere coat.
The two security guards at the door saw what happened and rushed over, scolding the kid for not watching where he was going. Panicked, he scrambled to pick up my bag and tried to wipe the coffee stains off my coat with a napkin. When he saw it was hopeless, he dropped to his knees, begging me to forgive him.
It was the dead of winter, and he was only wearing a thin jacket and sunglasses, which didn't quite hide the dark bruises under his eyes.
I ignored the ruined coat, my heart aching as I frowned and gently wiped at the scuffed leather on my purse.
And of course, Kris, who always arrived at work at the same time I did, saw the whole thing from across the street. Lockwood Industries was just opposite Archer Enterprises. He stood there, watching silently, his face a mask of stern disapproval.
For the first time, I saw disgust in his eyes.
He probably thought I was on another power trip, enjoying this poor kid groveling at my feet.
I ignored his silent judgment. I took a step back, waved off the approaching guards, and pulled the young man to his feet. "I don't know what you're going through," I said, my voice firm but not unkind, "but a man's dignity is precious. You can lose anything, but you can't lose your spine. That's the only thing that truly belongs to you."
He mumbled a stream of apologies and thank yous as he cleaned up the mess on the ground, then scurried away. Just as he rounded the corner of the building, he shot a quick look back over his shoulder, a strange, unreadable smile on his face.
Back in my office, I sat at my desk and examined the damaged bag. The scuff wasn't large; you wouldn't even notice it if you weren't looking for it. But once a flaw appears, it can never be perfect again. It was so valuable that even this tiny imperfection would be nearly impossible to repair.
Harder to fix than my bag was my marriage to Kris. The look in his eyes that morning was a thorn lodged deep in my heart.
Our lunch was a long-standing ritual. The Lockwood family chef would prepare it and have it delivered to my office, and Kris would come over to eat with me. Today, I waited until one o'clock, assuming he wasn't coming.
Just as I opened the container, he walked in.
Cathy trailed behind him. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she kept her head bowed, looking meek and fragile.
I put down my chopsticks and simply watched them.
Kris sat down beside me and sighed. "Because of last night, Cathy is being targeted and ostracized at the office."
I picked up my spoon and began to ladle some soup into my bowl, not even bothering to look up. "Is that so? She's the President's executive assistant. Can't she handle a little office drama?"
His voice grew tight. "What I mean is, I want you to call your people off. Stop tormenting a young girl!"
It was an unspoken rule of our corporate marriage: we each had our own loyalists planted in the other's company. He was accusing my people of defending my honor by going after Cathy. Last night's gala was a joint event; nearly every employee from both companies had been there. It was inevitable that Cathy's behavior would become a topic of gossip.
I stirred my soup and took a sip. "First," I said calmly, "I haven't instructed anyone to target your assistant. You should know that's not my style. Second, whatever she's facing today is a direct result of her own lack of boundaries. Kris, you still don't understand people. Your special treatment, your tolerance for her behavioryou're the one making her a target. You are the one who will ruin her, not me."
Cathy, who had been standing silently, suddenly took two steps forward. "It has nothing to do with Mr. Lockwood," she blurted out. "Mrs. Lockwood, I know what happened yesterday was my fault. It was the first time I'd ever received such an extravagant gift, and I got carried away. I offended you, and I sincerely apologize."
I paused, then laughed. "Kris, your assistant is fascinating. She doesn't seem to understand plain English, but she's certainly quick to defend you."
I didn't accept her half-hearted apology, nor did I intervene to stop the office gossip.
Cathy's tears and victimhood finally snapped something in Kris. For the first time in our relationship, he lost control. He slammed his soup bowl onto the floor at my feet, the porcelain shattering.
He demanded that I apologize to Cathy.
I had done nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?
That day, we parted on the worst terms imaginable. That very afternoon, Kris left on a business trip, taking Cathy with him, away from the toxic environment he had created.
That night, I was drinking with Nicole. She complained that I was too sharp, too intimidatingly competent. That's why a "dumb beauty" like Cathy had managed to catch Kris's eye.
My mother died when I was young, and my father never remarried. I was raised to be the heir, groomed from childhood to carry the weight of the entire Archer family on my shoulders. Feminine softness was a luxury I couldn't afford; it was a weakness that would only hold me back. I could stick to my principles for thirty years without wavering. Why couldn't he?
In the end, it was simple. He just didn't love me anymore. And I have no interest in things that don't belong to me.
"I actually went to Lockwood Industries today to get a look at this famous assistant," Nicole said, swirling the ice in her drink. "And wow. At first glance, she's practically a knock-off Annabelle doll. Especially her eyes and those dimplesthey're just like yours. I don't get what's going through Kris's head. Why ignore the real thing to coddle an imitation? Does he love you, or does he not?"
Her words cut through the alcoholic haze, sobering me instantly. No wonder I'd felt a strange, foggy sense of familiarity when I first saw Cathy.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Who knows? Maybe the knock-off is gentler. More understanding."
My head was pounding. Nicole drove me home, her driving exceptionally smooth because she knew I was feeling sick.
"The divorce papers are ready," she said as she pulled up to my villa. "When are you going to give them to him?"
"Mid-month," I said. "He'll definitely be back for the family dinner with his grandfather."
Every month, without fail, we would go to the Lockwood family estate for dinner with his grandparents. Divorcing Kris was no small matter. I needed this time to secure my position and prepare for every possible outcome.
Cathy, meanwhile, wasn't staying quiet. Her social media was a constant stream of updates. Breakfast with the handsome CEO. Working late into the night together. Standing atop the city's tallest skyscraper, looking down on the world. Her first time skydiving, her first time seeing a real coral reef, her first time witnessing the ethereal beauty of the Northern Lights.
This business trip was giving her a lifetime of experiences she could never have dreamed of, and her feed could barely contain her joy.
I used to be the only one who did those things with Kris. Now, the looks my colleagues gave me were a mixture of pity and caution.
Kris was allowing her to use this to humiliate me. It was a flawlessly cruel, soul-crushing move.
For the next few days, Nicole practically lived with me, helping my legal team sort through the financial entanglement of my marriage.
One afternoon, she stormed into my office, her face a mask of fury, clutching a manila envelope. "Anna, that bastard Kris has gone too far!"
I was signing a contract and looked up, startled by her rage. "What is it? Is he back?"
Nicole slapped the envelope down on my desk. A memory card and several photos slid out, showing Kris and Cathy in a hotel suite. Kris was shirtless, and the angry red marks on his chest were a glaring accusation.
"He's not back," she seethed, "but his sex tape is!"
My shoulders, which I always held so straight, slumped. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, each beat a throb of pain. With a trembling hand, I picked up the memory card and inserted it into my laptop.
The video showed a rooftop terrace at dusk. Kris was holding Cathy's face in his hands, gazing at her with an almost obsessive look. Behind them, the sky was a fiery orange, the sunset weaving a tapestry of color behind them, lovers embracing against the sky like a scene from a romantic painting.
Just as their lips were about to meet, I snapped the laptop shut.
My voice trembled uncontrollably. "Who sent this?"
"It was couriered. The front desk signed for it."
I took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly let it out. Methodically, I gathered the photos and put them back in the envelope, tucking them away in a desk drawer before I could regain my composure. "Don't say a word about this to anyone. Find out who sent it."
"Who else could it be?" Nicole spat. "That shameless homewrecker is desperate to climb the ladder!"
The angle of the video looked like it was secretly filmed, not staged. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that Kris, my husband, was now truly tainted.
Tomorrow was the middle of the month. It was time for all this rot to end.
The next day, Kris returned to the office. The first thing he did was hold a company-wide meeting where he made an example of three employees, firing them on the spot. They were the ones who had been most vocal in mocking Cathy. Two of them were my people.
I wasn't surprised that he would defend her so brazenly. After all, they were sleeping in the same bed now.
What did surprise me was that he brought her to the family dinner that evening. Cathy had brought a pile of expensive health supplements and gifts for my mother-in-law, clearly having done her homework. She charmed her completely, and Kris's mother was beaming.
When I arrived, my mother-in-law sent someone to fetch my father-in-law and Kris from the study, telling them it was time for dinner. She took my hand and began chattering away about trivial things.
Kris entered the dining room, glanced at me once, and then looked away. Cathy followed close behind him and, without a moment's hesitation, sat down in the chair next to himthe seat that had always been mine.
Kris froze for a second, but said nothing.
We weren't divorced yet. We were still legally husband and wife. Yet here he was, with his assistant by his side, bringing her home to the family estate, letting her occupy the seat that had always been mine.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "291294" to read the entire book.