She got the divorce and bolted 2
Chapter 2
Clayton suddenly stood up, grabbed Sienna’s wrist in one swift motion, and yanked her off the armchair before striding toward the exit.
Sienna stumbled from how hard he yanked her, but she continued muttering under her breath, “Weren’t we going to have some fun? The hot guys I requested haven’t arrived yet.”
Hearing this, Clayton turned his head, his deep, dark eyes locking onto her. “Is this fun?”
“Yeah, it is. Weren’t you enjoying yourself, too?”
Sienna rubbed her reddened wrist and looked up at him with a smile. “What? You can do whatever you want, but I’m not allowed to do the same?”
“If you love having fun so much, then go ahead and enjoy yourself to your heart’s content!” Clayton spat coldly before storming off.
Sienna stood where she was, watching his figure disappear around the corner of the hallway. The smile on her lips slowly faded.
Just then, Tim came jogging out after her and handed her handbag back. “Mrs. Hale, you forgot your bag.”
Sienna took it and said flatly, “Call me Ms. Winger from now on.”
“Huh?” Tim froze.
She gave him a tight smile, her eyes clouded. “I won’t be Mrs. Hale for much longer.”
When Sienna walked out of the club, the black Maybach was still parked at the entrance.
The rear window was rolled down, revealing Clayton’s sharp profile half-shrouded in shadow.
Rowan Grant, his assistant, instinctively moved to open the door to get out when he saw her approaching, only to hear a low command come from the back seat.
“Drive.”
Rowan froze. He glanced awkwardly at Sienna, not far away. “But sir… Mrs. Hale…”
“I said, drive! Let her stay here and have all the fun she wants!” Clayton’s voice rose sharply, carrying a faint trace of impatience.
Rowan didn’t dare hesitate anymore and immediately started the engine.
Sienna had just reached the car and hadn’t even touched the door handle when the car shot forward like an arrow.
“Hey! You jerk! So you’re just going to use me and ditch me, huh?”
She cursed loudly several times, but other than a gust of cold wind sweeping past, no one paid any attention to her.
It was March, and Brightford’s night air still carried a lingering chill.
Sienna stood by the curb, pulled her coat tighter, and quickly booked a rideshare on her phone.
A familiar mocking scoff sounded behind her.
Miles sauntered over with both hands in his pockets. “Well, well, look whose wife was dumped on the side of the road in the middle of the night, left to stand in the chilly wind?”
Sienna didn’t even bother looking up. Her feud with Miles went all the way back to middle school. They were basically like cats and dogs or like opposite ends of a magnet—incompatible from birth. The only thing they had in common was that they both liked to orbit around Clayton.
“You’re the one who was dumped!” she shot back. “I’m a person with hands, legs, and a phone. I can go wherever I want. How is that being ‘dumped’?”
She turned to look at him and sized him up from head to toe.
“But you, Mr. Turner… are your legs broken, or were you born lame? Do you need someone to carry you everywhere you go? That really is rather pitiful.”
Miles’ face instantly turned livid. He had never once come out on top in a verbal sparring match with her, and this time, she’d even struck a sore spot. After a racing accident last year, he really had been stuck on crutches for three months.
“Sienna Winger! Watch your tongue! Melody is coming back soon. Let’s see if you can still laugh then.”
“Milady?” Sienna parroted, looking confused. “I know I’m better than you, but you don’t have to be so proper with me.”
“Melody Foster!” Miles ground out through clenched teeth. “Clayton’s first love! Is your memory already this bad at such a young age?”
Neon lights flickered across Sienna’s face. A laugh suddenly escaped her, her tone light and breezy. “As if he’s the only one in the world with a first love. You think I don’t have one? Haven’t you seen plenty of my ex-boyfriends?”
She even started counting on her fingers. “That Quince guy, that Stelton guy, that piano-playing guy from the Talmers, and the one from your department…”
“Enough!” Miles snapped, the veins on his temple throbbing with anger. “Melody is different! Back then, if it weren’t because—”
Blinding headlights cut him off. A white Toyota pulled over slowly, and the window rolled down to reveal the driver’s puzzled look.
“Passenger, last four digits 7788?”
Sienna opened the car door in one swift motion. As the night wind rushed into the car, she tossed one last line over her shoulder.
“Mr. Turner, you really care way too much about other people’s love lives. You clearly have nothing else better to do.”
“Sienna, you little brat!”
Miles’ furious roar came from outside the window, followed immediately by a pained yelp. He’d kicked a roadside post in anger and ended up hurting himself.
Cut off from the noise and the chill outside, the car was filled with a soft, melancholic song.
Without realizing it, Sienna drifted into her memories.
Melody Foster—how could she possibly forget that name?
Back in her freshman year of high school, Melody had been sponsored into their prestigious private school because of her excellent grades.
She was like a little white bunny who had accidentally wandered into a pack of wolves. Though she looked innocent and fragile, there was a stubborn streak about her. Right away, she attracted the attention of many wealthy young boys, while also drawing the girls’ jealousy.
Sienna happened to be in the same class as Melody. She’d long been used to seeing bullying of various degrees and had no intention of getting involved.
Until one day, she saw Melody cornered in the restroom by several girls. Her clothes were soaked through, and her body curled up in the corner. She looked rather pathetic.
Something about those teary eyes softened Sienna’s heart, and so she grabbed a mop from the corner and chased the girls away.
After that rescue, Melody began, intentionally or unintentionally, to get close to her.
Sienna was well aware that Melody was seeking her protection, and since she had always been a bit of a loner, the two naturally became friends.
During breaks, they’d lean against the railing, talking about everything. Sienna even shared her secret—her three-year crush on Clayton—and even foolishly brought Melody to his house.
And what did that lead to? Her playing the matchmaker.
She was the very last person to find out that Clayton and Melody were dating. If she were to describe how she felt then, it would be disbelief—followed by collapse, struggle, and finally, helplessness.
But if that were all, maybe Sienna could have forced a smile and wished them well. But Melody did something even more unforgivable.
Not long after they started dating, Rupert Hale, Clayton’s grandfather, broke them apart swiftly and decisively. Clayton was sent abroad to study, and Melody and her whole family left Brightford, disappearing without a trace.
Then, three years ago, on the day Clayton returned to Eldavia, he accidentally ended up sleeping with Sienna. She demanded that he take responsibility and forced him into a marriage in an undignified way.
For three years—over 1000 nights—she had tried to wear him down with humble devotion and patience, chipping away at Clayton’s ironclad defenses. She battered herself bloody against that wall, but it never budged, not even letting in a single ray of light.
The defenses would probably only be let down for Melody.
Since his warmth was never meant for Sienna, there was no point in her continuing to long for it.
When she returned to the manor, the place was deathly quiet except for the ticking of the clock.
She had just reached the entryway when Edna Blancey, their maid, heard her and hurried over.
“Mrs. Hale, you’re finally back. Mr. Hale has been drinking at the island counter the moment he got home, and he hasn’t stopped.”
Sienna gave a flat “Oh” and headed straight for the stairs.
Edna took a few hurried steps after her, worry written all over her face. “Ma’am, aren’t you going to stop him? If he keeps drinking like this, his stomach won’t be able to take it.”
But Sienna didn’t stop. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, but it was enough to carry clearly through the living room.
“Some people haven’t had enough to drink outside and insist on shoving more alcohol down their throats. How am I supposed to stop people like that? Do I need to wrestle the bottles out of their hands?”
Join Our WhatsApp Channel For Fast Update Or More Novels: 
Join Our WhatsApp Channel For Fast Update Or More Novels: