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Chapter 2
Knox frowned. “What do you mean, reborn?”
I stared into his eyes. “Then how did you know I’m allergic to seafood?”
“Your parents came to see me recently,” he said evenly, not even a flicker in his expression. “They asked me to treat you better. They gave me a notebook with your preferences and dietary restrictions. I glanced through it before throwing it away.”
His explanation was flawless, leaving me with a sharp pain in my chest.
Had I been overthinking?
A nurse suddenly entered. “Mr. Whitfield, Miss Vivian is awake and asking for you.”
At those words, Knox left without a backward glance, not even sparing me a second thought.
Later, during my three–day hospital stay, Knox never came to see me once.
The nurses‘ pitying looks every time they changed my bandages felt like silent mockery of my pathetic situation.
On the fourth morning, I discharged myself.
The immigration paperwork was already complete. Now, to leave, I needed just one final step-
Divorce.
I sat at my desk, carefully writing out the divorce agreement with deliberate strokes.
The pen tip scratched against paper like my heart being torn apart.
The terms were simple: I wanted nothing but my freedom.
At that time, my phone buzzed–Vivian’s Instagram had updated.
The photo showed Knox at his office desk with Vivian leaning against his shoulder, making a peace sign.
The caption read: [Someone who never allows non–employees in his office made an exception for me today~]
My finger hovered over the screen for a long moment.
In my past life, Knox had broken countless rules for me too–eating spicy food that sent him to the hospital despite hating it, carrying my drunk self home despite his germaphobia, doing magazine interviews despite loathing publicity…
I took a deep breath, banishing those memories, and grabbed the divorce papers.
The Whitfield Corporation building was as imposing as ever. As the elevator rose, I was still thinking about how to bring up the divorce when I passed the executive floor and saw Knox’s assistant approaching with documents.
“Mrs. Whitfield?” The assistant looked startled. “Are you here to see Mr. Whitfield?”
“Yes.” I clutched the document envelope. “I need him to sign something.”
The assistant’s gaze lingered on my pale face. “I was just heading in. I can take it with me.”
I hesitated, then handed over the divorce agreement. “Thank you.”
The assistant tucked my papers into his stack of documents and knocked gently on the door.
When it opened, my blood froze.
Knox was kneeling on one knee, tenderly massaging Vivian’s feet as she reclined on the sofa.
Vivian wore a short dress, her pale legs draped across his knee, a sweet smile playing on her lips.
20:52
Two Rebirths Same Tragedy – Are We Cursed or Just Stupid
4.2%
Chapter 2
“Mr. Whitfield, these documents need your signature.” The assistant’s voice made Knox look up.
Too focused on Vivian’s massage, he signed the papers without even glancing at them.
I stood in the doorway, nails digging into my palms.
In my previous life, when I’d sprained my ankle playing tennis, Knox had knelt just like this, carefully tending to my injury.
That day his brow was furrowed, afraid to even touch me too firmly.
Soon, the assistant returned and handed me back the divorce agreement. “Mrs. Whitfield, all signed.”
1 stared at Knox’s bold signature sprawled across the page, my eyes misting over.
I murmured my thanks and turned to leave.
While waiting for the elevator, I called my lawyer. “We’ve both signed. How long until we can get the divorce certificate?
“Mrs. Whitfield, after the one–month cooling off period, you’ll be all set.”
I had just hung up the phone when Vivian’s voice rang out behind me. “Celia? What brings you here?”
I spun around to see Knox release Vivian’s hand, his face darkening as he approached me. “Who gave you permission to come to the office?”
He grabbed my wrist roughly. “I’ve told you countless times–we’re just an arranged marriage! I don’t interfere with your life, so don’t interfere with
mine!”
“Got it. Won’t happen again.” I pulled free of his grip.
Seeing the tension escalate, Vivian
quickly took Knox’s arm, her voice soft and pleading. “Knox, don’t be like this. She is your wife, after all.”
Then she turned to me with apparent concern. “Celia, since you’re here, why don’t you join us at the auction? I still haven’t properly thanked your mother for saving my life.”
“That’s not necessary,” I cut her off. “My mother doesn’t need your thanks.”
Hearing that, Vivian’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “But if you don’t come, I’ll feel terrible about it…”
“Celia,” Knox said coldly, “when someone invites you, you go. Don’t be ungrateful.”
His eyes were ice–cold daggers, nothing like the warmth he’d once shown me.
I suddenly felt exhausted–too tired to even argue.
