Chapter 1

My mission to make Ethan Scott love me failed after five years.

The system's notification was cold and final, a digital death sentence. His affection meter, once a flickering hope, had flatlined at zero.

Failure meant erasure. Complete non-existence.

But the system offered an alternative, a lifeline I was too desperate to refuse. The "Perfect Partner" subroutine. It promised to fulfill the mission's secondary objective: ensure Ethan's happiness, even if it wasn't with me. The cost was my personality, my fire, my very self.

I accepted. I had to.

Now, I sat on the silk sofa in our penthouse, the perfect political wife, watching myself on the evening news. The screen showed me from earlier today, surrounded by a swarm of paparazzi.

"Mrs. Scott, is it true your husband is having an affair with his strategist, Sabrina Chavez?"

My on-screen self smiled, a serene, unshakable mask.

"My husband and I are deeply committed to each other. These rumors are baseless and designed to disrupt his important work for this city."

My performance was flawless. The system confirmed it with a soft chime in my mind.

Ethan walked in then, home from a "late-night strategy session." The scent of Sabrina's expensive perfume, Chanel No. 5, clung to his suit. A faint smear of red lipstick stained his collar. He was on the phone, his voice a low, affectionate murmur.

"I know, baby. I miss you too. Just a few more months."

He saw me watching the TV and his tone turned to ice.

"I have to go."

He hung up, his eyes on the screen, then on me. He expected tears, accusations, the fiery drama I used to give him. He got none of it.

"You handled that well," he said, a note of surprise in his voice.

He remembered the screaming matches, the thrown glasses, the nights I cried myself to sleep over his coldness. That was the old Jocelyn. The Jocelyn who failed.

"I'm here to support you, Ethan," I said, my voice even and calm. The system's programming felt like a comfortable straitjacket.

He walked over and dropped a small, velvet Cartier box into my lap.

"A little something for you."

I opened it. A delicate diamond bracelet. It was the exact same one his aide had given me on our anniversary two months ago, a gift Ethan hadn't even remembered.

"It's beautiful, darling. Thank you." I smiled, the perfect, appreciative wife.

His phone buzzed. It was Sabrina. He answered, his back to me, but I heard her excited voice clearly through the speaker.

"Ethan, I'm pregnant!"

A wide, genuine smile broke across Ethan's face, a smile I hadn't seen directed at me in years. He was overjoyed.

"That's... that's incredible news, Sabrina. I'm coming over right now."

He turned to me, his expression hardening again.

"Stay here. And behave."

He rushed out the door, leaving the scent of another woman and the echo of his joy behind.

The system processed the new information. The logical next step was clear.

I walked to his study, my steps measured and silent. I turned on his computer and began drafting the divorce papers. It was the perfect thing to do.