I don't know if it was my imagination, but after I spoke, his handsome face seemed to grow even colder. "Zephyra, right now, you're the one begging me for a divorce."
His words silenced me. I looked at his sharp, cold features and conceded. "Fine. It's my fault. My tone was out of line. You're hungry, right? I'll get you something to eat. After you've eaten, we can talk about the divorce." I pressed on, "Don't worry, I won't stand you up again today. I'm right here, I have all my documents. We can go anytime."
Without waiting for his response, I turned and left his office. About half an hour later, I returned with a food container and set it on his desk. "Eat up. Then we're getting a divorce."
Steven's dark eyes flickered toward me before he slowly opened the container. When the lid was removed, a fragrant and colorful dish of stir-fried pork and rice was revealed. I sniffed the air and declared, "Smells amazing."
But Steven's handsome face darkened. He looked up at me, his eyes full of doubt.
I raised an eyebrow. "What's with that look?"
A cold smile touched Steven's lips. "Zephyra, you’ve got no chest, no ass. Your only redeeming quality was that you could cook. Now that your cooking has gone downhill, what good are you?"
I gritted my teeth and shot back, "How would you know if I have a chest or an ass? Have you ever touched them?"


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