### Chapter 1: The Divorce Prescription The air was thick with the scent of unfulfilled promises as Celina stared at the dining table she had so lovingly prepared. She had devoted the entire day to crafting a special birthday dinner for her husband, Adam Alvarez, only for her heart to sink further into despair. Adam was out there, celebrating his special day with someone else—a college student whose innocence felt like a sharp dagger in Celina's unsteady heart. The other woman, whose name remained unspoken, had sent a text that buzzed insistently on Adam’s forgotten phone, now nestled in Celina’s trembling hands. “Carly, meet me at Elan Hotel tonight. I want to celebrate your birthday,” the message read, accompanied by an image of a bright-eyed girl clad in a blue-and-white skirt, her legs long and flawless, a hint of vulnerability accentuated by the playful way she pulled her hem upward. This girl, radiant and carefree, encapsulated everything that Celina felt she was not. As Celina’s knuckles whitened around the phone, a surge of betrayal ignited within her. Adam’s birthday, a day meant for romance and celebration, was being shared with another woman—the very woman who had taken the very lifeblood of their marriage and twisted it into a mockery. The air crackled with tension as Celina, fueled by a mix of fury and heartbreak, grabbed her handbag and stormed out toward the Elan Hotel, determination blazing in her eyes. Upon her arrival, anxiety gripped her stomach like a vice. She was ready to confront the betrayal, to tear down the facade that Adam and this girl had built. Yet fate had other plans. As she stepped into the hotel lobby, she froze. There, before her stood her parents, Hayden Tate and Lucy Garcia. The shock on their faces mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. “What are you doing here?” she gasped, her heart racing. “Oh, Celine, your sister is back from abroad. We came to drop her off,” her father replied, shooting a glance toward her mother. Through the gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows, Celine's gaze locked onto her sister, Carly, who was indeed wearing the same blue-and-white skirt. The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave—this radiant college girl was none other than her sister. Carly, with her dark hair framing a face that lit up the room, had once been celebrated as the Scarlet Rose of Mercity, her beauty legendary. Men had worshipped her, and now it seemed Adam had succumbed to her charms as well. Celine's fists clenched in disbelief. “So, I’m the last to know?” Her voice trembled with a cocktail of anger and sadness. “Celine,” her father remarked awkwardly, “Mr. Alvarez needs you. It’s Carly he truly wants.” “Exactly,” added her mother, her voice dripping with disdain. “Do you know how many women in Mercity would kill to be with him? Better Carly than some stranger.” Each word sliced through Celine's heart as if a blade were twisting deeper. “I’m your daughter too!” she cried, her voice rising as she fought back tears. “Three years as a housewife, running around after your husband,” Lucy sneered, her eyes cold. “Carly is a leading ballerina now—a swan in every sense, while you—” “—are just a frumpy duckling?” Celine finished, her voice low and filled with pain. Without another word, she spun on her heels, the weight of her family’s judgment heavy upon her. The journey back to the villa was a blur of darkness and despair. Upon entering, all that greeted her was the emptiness of the house. She had given the housekeeper, Sofia Dotson, the day off, and in that silence, loneliness echoed. The dining table, once adorned with a feast, now loomed cold and barren. The birthday cake sat untouched, its cheerful inscription—“Happy Birthday, honey”—mocking her from its spot. Celina stared at the dessert, her heart swelling with grief. It all felt like a cruel joke. Adam and Carly had always been the couple everyone envied, and Celina had paid dearly to keep Adam in her life after the tragic accident that had stolen him from her three years ago. The sudden collision had left him lifeless, and in despair, she had made the choice to marry the man who lay in a hospital bed. The very moment she discovered Adam was still alive, her heart had soared. During the long, painful year that followed, while Adam lingered in a coma, Celina dedicated her life to nursing him back to health. She sacrificed everything—her social life, her joy—simply to bring him back. And when he finally emerged from the darkness of his slumber, Adam was a ghost of the man she had once known. A mere reflection of the vibrant husband who had once set her heart ablaze. As she flicked the lighter to the cake’s candles, the soft flicker of the flame illuminated her grief-stricken face in the mirror. Celina gazed at her reflection—a tired housewife in dull black-and-white, unremarkable and trapped. She felt like the ugly duckling while Carly had blossomed into the ethereal swan, embraced by a world that adored her. `“What was all of this for?”` Celine whispered to herself as tears streamed down her cheeks, the weight of her unsung love pressing heavily on her chest. The flickering flame turned cold as she made her wish—hoping for the strength to face the truth. Just then, the piercing light of headlights sliced through the night as Adam’s Rolls-Royce Phantom glided up the driveway. Celina’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling within her. He was home. The front door swung open, and Adam stepped into the house, the chill of the night air following him like an unwanted shadow. He was a picture of perfection—tall and statuesque, clad in a hand-tailored black suit designed to accentuate his every bone and sinew. The man had always been a magnet for desire, and now, as he stepped inside, Celina found herself painfully aware of just how far they had drifted apart. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights?” He asked, his voice low yet distant, a barrier separating them that felt insurmountable. With the flick of his hand, he illuminated the room, the bright light forcing Celina to squint in surprise. “It’s your birthday,” she replied, attempting to bridge the widening chasm between them. His gaze swept over the table and its remnants of the celebration Celina had poured her heart into. “I don’t celebrate birthdays,” he replied flatly, indifference washing over him like a shroud. “Is it that you don’t celebrate birthdays or that you just don’t want to celebrate it with me?” Celina’s voice quivered, fired by both anger and lingering affection. But Adam barely acknowledged her. “Think whatever you want,” he sighed, dismissing her as he turned away, heading toward the stairs. In that moment, the dynamics of their relationship struck her with a painful clarity. No matter how fiercely she battled for his attention, he was determined to remain unreachable. “Today is your birthday,” she called out again, a final plea echoing in the silence. “I have a gift for you… let’s get a divorce, Adam.” Her words hung in the air, potent and heavy, shattering the ambient stillness. Adam halted, his body momentarily frozen before he spun around, his deep gaze locking onto hers. The truth had been laid bare, stripped of all pretense. What would come next remained an uncertainty shrouded in tension, the air alive with the weight of unspoken truths and the painful reality of a love unraveling.