Chapter 122 You Don’t Have to Sign
The lavish dinner sat mostly untouched.
After the meal, Hugh led her to the study.
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Bethan couldn’t hold back anymore. “Hugh, drop the case and clear my name. Now.”
He met her gaze briefly, then pulled a contract from the drawer and set it on the desk.
“Sign this,” he said, his tone deliberate, “and I’ll meet any demand.”
Bethan opened the document. It was a postnuptial
agreement.
The first clause stipulated that whoever initiated a divorce during their marriage would owe the other an astronomical sum.
The second demanded that she returned to the way things were in their first year of marriage.
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heart had to follow.
Bethan set the contract down, her voice tight.
“You forced me back here. What’s the point of this game? You know it is all fake.”
Hugh shrugged, his tone cavalier. “The means don’t matter. Only the outcome does.”
Bethan’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I’m just a prop to you, a shield for your shame, a stumbling block between you and the woman you love. You’ve already backed me into a corner-why bind me with a contract?”
Hugh’s demeanor remained businesslike. “I’m not forcing you. You don’t have to sign.”
At that moment, her phone rang.
Bethan steadied her emotions and answered.
Relief washed over her as she learned her mother had
stabilized and been moved to a regular ward.
High took the contract from her hands, uncapped a pen,6
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“As long as you play Mrs. Cavill,” he said, “this protects you.”
Bethan trembled as she took the pen.
At this point, she had no options left, no reason to hesitate.
She flipped to the final page and signed her name.
Hugh collected the contract, taking the pen from her.
He reached for her arm, feeling her tremble under his touch.
Stepping closer, he pulled her gently into his arms, just holding her there in silence, like they were long-lost lovers reunited.
Bethan stood rigid in Hugh’s embrace, her body numb, her heart an empty shell.
She tried to force a smile, but her lips wouldn’t budge, leaving her silent.
From this day on, she was no longer Hugh’s childhood:16
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Her role was to shield Hugh’s dignity while enduring Megan and her son’s presence in their lives.
Now, she was merely a veil to mask her husband’s betrayal.
“Let me run you a bath,” Hugh said, his voice cutting through her spiraling thoughts.
He led her to the bathroom. After her bath, he dried her hair with care and carried her to bed.
Mercifully, he only held her as they slept, making no further demands.
In the darkened room, Bethan lay awake, staring at the ceiling’s shadows.
Every awakening came with its own kind of pain.
She finally understood that growing up meant losing the person she used to be.
Sleep evaded her. At dawn’s first light, she rose.
Her mother had moved to a regular ward last night. Sė16
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Startled, she turned to find Hugh’s arm pulling her close, his voice rough with sleep. “Why not sleep a bit longer?”
Bethan glanced at him and slipped from the bed.
At the double sink, their eyes met in the mirror—a fleeting clash of guarded emotions.
Hugh handed her a toothbrush, already dotted with toothpaste.
She hesitated, then took it, her face a blank mask.
In their three years of marriage, these small gestures— handing her a toothbrush, passing a towel-had once charmed her, drawing her deeper into a marriage that now felt like a cage.
Bethan lingered in the bathroom, dreading facing him.
When she emerged, Hugh’s arm slid around her shoulders. “Your mom’s awake. You can visit soon.”
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