C2 I will Not Divorce You.

When Reece heard Lydia's declaration, his pupils contracted sharply, and he yanked her arm forcefully. "What did you just say?"

"I said, I want a divorce from you!"

Lydia's tone was unwavering as she tried to shake off his grip, but he held on tightly.

Reece's piercing gaze seemed to bore into Lydia, as if trying to penetrate her very soul. What was she up to now?

He didn't know Lydia well, but he was familiar with her deep-seated fixation on him. No matter how coldly or cruelly he treated her in the past, she always responded with fiery passion.

Yet today, she was the one initiating a divorce. It was as bizarre as a mouse begging a cat for a meal.

This woman had once schemed tirelessly to share his bed, indirectly causing Maria's tragic car accident and death. She had married him, becoming the affluent Mrs. Tillman—wasn't that her ultimate aim?

So, what was her angle with this sudden talk of divorce?

He scrutinized her. "What game are you playing now?" His voice was soft but carried an unsettling chill.

The living room, already cool, felt even more frigid, causing a shiver to run down the spines of the servants who scarcely dared to breathe.

Under his cold scrutiny, Lydia felt a flicker of unease.

But the memory of her past sorrows steeled her resolve. "I'm not playing games with you. I'm being perfectly clear—I want a divorce from you, and I want it now!"

It was the first time in years that Lydia had addressed Reece with such firm impatience.

He was taken aback by this new side of her.

Narrowing his eyes, he studied her more closely and soon noticed a difference in today's Lydia. Her gaze, once ablaze with passion, now seemed as lifeless as a stagnant pond.

Moreover, her tone was no longer ingratiating but tinged with a cold detachment.

Though Reece couldn't fathom the cause of her transformation, he had no interest in delving into such trivial matters.

Lydia snapped back to reality and responded with a frosty retort, "Marriage isn't something you can just walk away from or enter into on a whim. You schemed your way to becoming Mrs. Tillman, and now, for the next three years, for exactly 1,995 days, you'll endure as Mrs. Tillman, bearing the consequences until your suffering is sufficient to atone for your wrongdoings!"

His breath was warm on her face, yet she felt only the chilling loathing and desire for revenge.

Lydia was momentarily dazed, then vehemently shook her head, raising her voice in protest. "No, I demand a divorce. I refuse to be Mrs. Tillman any longer."

She couldn't stand to be near him, to relive the harrowing end of her past life, to suffer his disdain and coldness any longer.

She had to escape this marriage, to distance herself from this man.

But Reece merely scoffed at her plea, turning to leave.

"Don't leave..."

Lydia clutched at his clothes, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice laced with urgency and pleading. "Reece, please, let me go. I swear I haven't been deceitful."

Reece eyed the woman, his expression softening with concern. He had intended to pull away, but ultimately, he didn't. She must be delirious with fever, he thought, as he felt her forehead. Her skin was burning up.

Such a high fever!

He paused, considering her for a few seconds, then glanced at the butler. "Take her to her room."

"Right away."

The butler, ever obedient to Reece's commands, approached Lydia promptly.

"Young Madam," he said, bowing slightly and gesturing towards the upstairs with an inviting hand.

Lydia shook her head, refusing to comply.

But her refusal meant nothing; the butler answered only to Reece.

"I apologize, Young Madam," the butler said, as he straightened up and signaled another servant. Together, they advanced towards Lydia.

Since marrying into the Tillman family, Lydia had been subjected to Reece's scorn, and naturally, the servants did not regard her with much respect. The butler and the other servant were rough as they seized her by the arms, forcibly escorting her to the second floor.

In a burst of panic, Lydia clutched Reece's arm tightly and yelled, "Reece, I'm not going back to the room. I want a divorce!"

Her sharp nails carved a long scratch into his arm.

Whether it was the pain from the scratch or the irritation from the sight of a woman crying out for a divorce, Reece's patience had evaporated completely.

He seized her chin firmly, compelling her to meet his eyes.

His gaze was piercingly cold. "Lydia, give up the fantasy. I will never consent to a divorce."