Resigning as Mrs. Sterling

Chapter 1

Vivian Whitmore’s return to the country had topped the social media trending list for three straight hours.

You sat in the living room of the Sterling Family Villa and slid the Marital Dissolution Agreement across the table toward Ethan Sterling.

A cigarette rested between his fingers. His brows were drawn tight, and he hadn’t even noticed that ash had built up halfway along the burning end.

Clearly, he was weighing how to make “throwing you out” sound more respectable.

You didn’t give him the chance.

You tapped the document folder with one finger. The four gold-embossed words on its cover, Resignation Letter, stood out sharply.

“Mr. Sterling,” you said in the same steady tone you might have used during a quarterly report, “Ms. Whitmore is back. My contract as Mrs. Sterling has reached its end. Inside are the Marital Dissolution Agreement, the Marital Property Inventory, and a 54-Slide Marriage Performance Report covering the last three years. Please review them and sign.”

The ten thousand words he had prepared died in his throat. His dark eyes narrowed as he stared at you as though you were a complete stranger.

Ethan’s shock lasted only three seconds before anger took its place.

He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. Sparks leaped, then died.

He picked up the neatly bound Resignation Letter, his gaze cold as ice. “Chloe Bennett, what kind of push-and-pull game are you playing now?”

The lofty scrutiny in his eyes was exactly the same as it had been every day for the past three years.

In his mind, everything you did was meant to cling to him and hold on to your position as Mrs. Sterling.

You maintained your professional smile. “Mr. Sterling, I’m not playing any games. Honoring a contract is part of my professional conduct. Our marriage was a transaction from the beginning. Now that the termination clause has been triggered, I’m ending the agreement voluntarily. It’s the most dignified solution.”

Three years earlier, the Sterling Group’s financing chain had collapsed, leaving the company on the brink of bankruptcy and desperately in need of an investment from your family.

And you, Chloe Bennett, were a daughter born outside marriage whom your family kept hidden from the world. Your mother, Margaret Bennett, was seriously ill, and your family held her condition over you like a leash.

Your only value was your face, which resembled Vivian Whitmore’s by seventy percent.

Ethan Sterling needed a daughter-in-law to comfort his gravely ill grandmother, a Mrs. Sterling to silence the gossip, and a Romantic Stand-In to ease his longing for Vivian.

You needed a large sum of money to free your mother from your family’s control and take her overseas for treatment.

Chapter 2

The arrangement had been simple. You signed a contract in black and white: the marriage would last three years, or end automatically when Vivian Whitmore returned to the country.

You played the role of Mrs. Sterling well.

He paid you for it.

Now Vivian was back.

Your performance was over.

“Dignified?” Ethan let out a cold laugh and slammed the folder onto the coffee table. The heavy thud made the glasses tremble against the surface. “You’ve reminded me of something. With Vivian back, you really should leave. What is it? You think the money wasn’t enough, so you’re trying to squeeze out a bigger settlement through the divorce?”

His contemptuous stare pierced your skin like a needle.

Your smile didn’t change. Inside, you had long since stopped being affected.

You had heard words like these so often over the past three years that they had become background noise.

In his eyes, you were nothing more than a woman who would do anything for money and status. Even becoming a stand-in had been, to him, an act of calculated ambition.

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Sterling.” You handed him another document. “This is a copy of the Prenuptial Asset Agreement. I’ve already signed and filed it. I’m Walking Away Without a Settlement. I won’t take a penny. Every payment you made is itemized in the performance report and available for review at any time.”

You had created that report yourself in PowerPoint.

It contained fifty-four slides.

From his food preferences and allergy list to wardrobe recommendations for every kind of occasion; from reminders for important anniversaries to proposed ways of handling the Sterling family’s complicated relationships; even a complete 132-Entry Tie and Wardrobe Guide for his collection of ties, all of it had been marked out in neat charts.

The conclusion on the final slide read:

“Thank you, Mr. Sterling, for providing this platform. I have successfully fulfilled all responsibilities associated with the position of Mrs. Sterling. I wish you and Ms. Whitmore a long and happy marriage, and many children.”

Ethan’s expression grew steadily more livid with every page he turned.

He had probably expected you to cry. To make a scene. To cling to your status as Mrs. Sterling like a desperate woman with nothing else to her name.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to reduce three years of marriage to a quantifiable business arrangement, using the coldest method imaginable.

Chapter 3

“Chloe Bennett, you never cease to amaze me.” Ethan forced the words through clenched teeth, something unreadable churning in his eyes.

“You flatter me. I was simply maintaining professional standards.”

You rose and smoothed your dress. Ethan had never once given it a second glance. You had bought it with your own money.

“My personal belongings are already packed. The movers will be here in half an hour. I’ll restore everything to its original condition before Ms. Whitmore moves in.”

You took a USB flash drive from your bag and placed it on the table.

“This contains the Sterling Family Villa’s smart-home administrator access, along with the passwords to all your electronic devices. I managed them centrally because it made taking care of you more convenient. I’m returning them now.”

With that, you inclined your head and turned to leave.

“Stop.”

His voice came from behind you, tight with suppressed fury.

You stopped but didn’t look back.

“Are you really that desperate to leave?”

There was a strained note beneath the anger, so faint it was almost impossible to detect.

You turned around. The polite, professional smile vanished from your face as you met his gaze calmly.

“Mr. Sterling, when an actress finishes her role, she leaves the set and moves on to the next production. My next role is freedom.”

Without waiting for his response, you headed upstairs to the dressing room.

You didn’t own much. Everything that truly belonged to you fit inside one large rolling suitcase.

In three years, you had never added anything to this house that belonged to Chloe Bennett.

The clothes you wore and the things you used had all been chosen by Ethan according to Vivian Whitmore’s tastes.

You had only ever been a romantic stand-in dressed for a part.

There was no reason to take the costumes with you.

You changed back into the white T-shirt and jeans you’d worn when you first arrived, then carefully folded the bespoke designer gown and left it on the bed.

The movers arrived precisely half an hour later.

When you came downstairs with your suitcase, Ethan was still sitting on the sofa in exactly the same position as before. The cigarette between his fingers had burned all the way down, scattering ash over his expensive trousers, but he didn’t seem to notice.

His eyes remained fixed on the Resignation Letter lying on the coffee table.

You walked past him without so much as a glance.

The moment you stepped through the villa’s front door, the afternoon sun settled warmly across your shoulders.