Chapter 2
748words
That mysterious wealthy man everyone online speculates about.
It's actually Theodore?
The same man who treats me like trash in real life and finds even my breathing disgusting?
Absurd.
It's beyond absurd.
I want to laugh.
If Theodore knew that the voice he treasures—the one that sustains his life—comes from the mouth of the wife he despises most...
Would he lose his mind on the spot?
"Where's the medicine! Are you dead in there?!"
An enraged roar comes from the master bedroom.
The sharp sound of glass shattering.
I collect myself, grab the medicine bottle and walk into the master bedroom.
Theodore sits on the edge of the bed, with Siren's homepage glowing on his phone screen.
He's in extreme pain.
The intense pain makes his whole body tremble, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose.
I walk over.
Pour water.
Kneel on one knee.
Hand him the medicine.
My movements are light, without a sound.
"Get out!"
He knocks over the water cup with one violent swipe!
Warm water splashes all over me.
He suddenly looks up, his bloodshot eyes staring at me, filled with hatred.
"Looking at you makes me sick."
"Ivy, what's the point of living when you're just a soulless puppet?"
He breathes heavily, clutching his phone tightly.
"Look at others, then look at yourself."
"You can't even compare to a single strand of Siren's hair."
"Even though she's not streaming now, her very existence is salvation."
"And you?"
"You're just a walking corpse."
I pick up the medicine bottle, my face expressionless.
Yet in my mind, I'm calculating coldly.
Keep cursing, Theodore.
The more viciously you curse me, the more justified I feel taking your money online.
I refill the water.
Place it on the bedside table.
Turn to leave.
These fifty million, I'll make you cough up every last cent.
The moment my hand touches the doorknob.
The private phone in my pocket vibrates once.
That's the number only Siren's super VIP clients can contact.
In this room, only one person could be messaging it.
I have my back to Theodore.
A secretive, vengeful pleasure rises in my heart.
Theodore's hoarse yet devout voice comes from behind me.
He's sending a voice message.
"Siren... please."
His tone is humbled to dust.
A complete contrast to the tyrant from moments ago.
"I want to see you. Just agree to meet once, and you can name your price."
"My head hurts so much... only you can save me."
The phone vibrates again.
Without looking back, I pull open the door and leave.
I return to the dark, cramped nanny's room.
Yes, this is where I sleep, not in the master bedroom.
I take out my phone.
On the screen are voice messages from Mr. M, along with an additional note:
[Fifty million. To buy one night with you. Even if you just look at me, that's enough.]
Fifty million.
Exactly the amount of my remaining debt.
How ironic.
In reality he tells me to get lost, yet he's willing to spend his fortune for one night of my gaze.
I lean against the door.
My finger hovers for three seconds.
I reply.
[Okay.]
[Tomorrow night at eight, penthouse suite at the Lancelot Hotel. I want a cashier's check.]
I turn off private message notifications.
Almost simultaneously, Theodore's excited voice, suddenly higher in pitch, comes from outside the door—
"Prepare the car! To the bank!"
"Even if I have to use the company's reserve funds, I must get this money!"
Listening to his footsteps racing down the hallway, the corner of my mouth lifts into a cold smile.
Go ahead, Theodore.
Go sell your soul for a dream that's doomed to despair.
After tomorrow.
I'll take your money and completely bury that timid Ivy forever.
A paper slips under the door.
I look down.
In the dim light of the hallway, I can make out the title.
《Divorce Agreement》
Theodore Winterbourne's name is already signed on it.
The pen has pressed through the paper.
So impatient.
Next to it is a note with only one line of hasty scrawl:
"Sign it. Get out. I'm bringing my goddess home."
I pick up the paper.
My fingertips brush over that name.
Goddess?
Theodore, you seem to have forgotten.
In mythology, sirens were never saving angels.
They were man-eating sea monsters.
