Chapter 2The Second Shot

After I said goodbye, Mark still stood there, motionless.

I sighed inwardly. Mark was afraid of offending Adrian by acting on his own.

In my previous life, Adrian fell in love with Chloe at first sight at a charity gala. He pursued her aggressively, but she rejected him repeatedly. It was Mark who eventually played matchmaker, bringing them together.

I understood why Adrian would fall for Chloe, but what I didn't understand was—Mark was supposed to be my person. Why did he side with Adrian when our marriage fell apart?

Lost in thought, I drove to the house Adrian and I shared.

The white detached villa faced south, filled with light. In front of the house, a large field of pink and white roses bloomed.

Adrian had planted them himself before we got married.

I had always thought they were a symbol of our love and cherished them more than anyone.

Now, after staring at them for a moment, I instructed the gardener:

"Dig up all these flowers."

When I walked inside, Adrian was sitting on the living room sofa.

Even though I had mentally prepared myself, seeing Adrian again still made me dizzy.

In my memory, the last time we met was at his wedding to Chloe.

Even though it was a second marriage, the ceremony was magnificent, dazzling, and extravagant.

Watching from the audience, the darkness in my heart grew uncontrollably.

Before I knew it, I had grabbed a steak knife from the table and rushed toward them as they embraced happily.

The moment the bodyguard’s bullet hit me and my consciousness faded, I realized—

This world was a melodramatic romance novel about a wealthy CEO’s obsessive love.

My husband, Adrian Vance, was the male lead.

And I was just Adrian’s faceless ex-wife, a nameless supporting character. My only role was to haunt the main couple, creating misunderstandings and conflicts.

A literal cannon fodder.

After mocking my past life’s definition, I prepared to go back to my room.

As I tried to pass by, Adrian turned around.

He seemed to have just showered, his body still damp.

Water droplets slid down his neck, over his chest muscles, down his lean waist, and disappeared into the shadows of his bathrobe.

I tried to walk past without looking up, but I tripped.

Just as I was about to fall, a faint scent of men’s cologne wafted over. Adrian’s strong arm steadied me.

He looked down lazily, his tone indifferent:

"Throwing yourself into my arms the moment you get home?"