Faced with Olivia's questions, Edward merely pursed his lips and replied, "No one is forcing me. You don't need to keep saying that. I know I've wronged you, but prolonging this isn't helpful. We should just end it."
"Waste time? Is our marriage a burden to you now?" she asked.
"Olivia Hart!" He rarely used her full name. His eyes were frigid as he looked at her. "I've said enough. There's nothing more to discuss. I should have let you believe I died in Burnwken. I shouldn't have returned. That was my mistake. I'm trying to rectify it."
Olivia searched his eyes for affection, finding only indifference. It broke her heart. Even if he were controlled, his gaze felt like a sword.
Her fingers clenched, her nails digging into her palms. The pain mirrored the ache in her heart.
"No, you didn't die in Burnwken. You came back. I can't pretend otherwise," Olivia said, taking a deep breath. She stood, picking up two certificates and shaking them. "I don't care if you love me or not, or what your reasons are. I won't divorce you! If you insist, sue me! We'll take our time."
She turned to leave. A flicker of hope—that he'd change his mind—warmed her heart. But then she heard a soft sigh, followed by his faint, "As you wish." Those words shattered her. She whirled around, shouting, "Edward Sullivan!"
Olivia found Edward in his wheelchair, his back to her. She approached, placing a hand on an armrest, bending slightly to look at his profile. "Isn't it tiring to keep pretending?"
"I am tired. That's why I want a divorce," he said, turning to face her. Each word was a fresh stab to her heart. "Is that acceptable?"
He gently pushed her hand away, then wheeled himself toward the bedroom, leaving Olivia in tears.
Late that night, in the vaccine development base's experimental building, a warm yellow light illuminated the highest-floor office, casting a hazy glow. A small figure stood before the large windows, a striking contrast. The room was silent until a dark shadow appeared behind the figure.
The shadow held a syringe; its needle gleamed menacingly under the warm light. The shadow raised its hand, aiming the needle at the small figure's neck, poised to strike.