She had said he was the one who locked her up.

It was because, in the dream, Vivian Yates was supposedly pregnant with his child. But it was actually a fake pregnancy, a ploy to frame her, and in a fit of rage, he had locked her away.

In reality, she was the one who was truly pregnant.

And he had killed her with his own hands—and their child, too.

Leo Grant looked at her, and the image of that helpless figure resurfaced in his mind—the way she looked as she died, her eyes wide with lingering grievance.

It was just a fragmented dream, yet it felt so real.

Leo Grant stared at Annabelle Linton with his deep, dark eyes as a wild thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.

A thought so wild, it was unstoppable.

He looked at her with a hint of agitation. "Before I sign, I have a question for you."

Annabelle Linton looked at him, her face devoid of expression. Leo Grant knew it was his cue to ask.

"I want to know why you suddenly started hating me so much!"

Annabelle Linton looked away and closed her eyes, a hint of weariness on her face. "I’ve explained this countless times. I don’t have the patience to keep answering the same question."

"So it wasn’t because of your suicide attempt at all, was it? That wasn’t why you gave up on me, right?"

Leo Grant stared at her intently, his gaze so sharp it was as if he were trying to bore a hole right through her. "I had a dream. I dreamt you were pregnant, in the basement, and that I... I was the one who pushed you against the wall and killed you... Annabelle Linton, did you die once and then come back to life?"

Annabelle Linton’s eyes snapped open, and she watched him through narrowed lids.

The question was bizarre, but Leo Grant’s gaze was unwavering, showing no hint of uncertainty.

’This is the only way to explain why her feelings for me vanished overnight.’

’But if it’s really true... what am I supposed to do?’

Annabelle Linton stared at him, incredulous. She never thought he would say something like that.

But she wouldn’t admit it.

’After all, the whole thing is just too absurd. If word got out, I could be captured and experimented on like some alien.’

’That’s not an impossibility, either.’

’Besides, what’s the point in admitting it?’

’To let Leo Grant try to make it up to me out of guilt?’

’Do I need that? Do I even care anymore?’

Annabelle Linton’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You’ve been watching too many movies," she said, utterly unimpressed.

"Then why do you hate me so much?" he persisted.

She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, her low voice laced with impatience. "I have no idea what nonsense you’re spouting. I don’t have the answer you’re looking for. Believe what you want. I’ve told you before—sometimes, feelings just change in an instant."

"If you don’t believe me..." Annabelle Linton paused, a mocking look on her face. "Then how about I kill you? You can try and see if you come back to life."

The realization dawned on Leo Grant, and he saw just how outlandish his question had been.

’That’s right. If resurrection were real, why would there be so many people who have passed away?’

The moment he received his answer was a relief; at least he hadn’t killed her.

But it was also painful. Annabelle Linton handed him a pen. "If there are no more questions, just sign."

Leo Grant lowered his head, staring motionlessly at the agreement. Annabelle Linton had already signed it. The entire marriage was now being held together solely by his signature.

’So fragile, so flimsy. It felt as if she had already walked away without a care, while I’m still here, stubbornly putting up a final, futile resistance.’

’In the past, whenever I was the one bringing up divorce, did she feel this much pain, too?’

Leo Grant looked at Annabelle Linton with desolate eyes and asked in a pained voice, "Do we really... have to get a divorce?"