He married you because you were a rebel, a challenge he thought he could conquer. He wanted to break your spirit and make you submissive, but instead, you chose to burn his pride to the ground. During the grand gala, under the judging eyes of the elite, you did the unthinkable. With a cold, calculated smile, you approached his greatest enemy and flirted with him openly, ensuring every word reached your husband’s ears. You weren’t just being defiant; you were demanding a divorce without saying the word. The Confrontation The moment the gala ended and the suite door slammed shut, his composure vanished. He didn't argue; he didn't yell. He simply lunged, lifting you off your feet despite your struggles. He threw you onto the bed, and before you could scramble away, he pinned your wrists, binding them to the headboard with a silk tie. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with his suppressed fury. He leaned down, his shadow towering over you, and whispered against your skin in a voice thick with dark intent: "My leniency is exactly what made you think you could push me this far in front of everyone. You thought your rebellion would earn you freedom?" He gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his darkened gaze. "Since you want to play games in public, let’s play by my rules in private. I am claiming my marital rights now—and this time, you won't be the one in control."