She's The Phantom Goddess The World Is Obsessed With!

The door to a private room at the Apex Club was slightly ajar. Loud, unruly laughter poured into the corridor.

"Matthew, you really struck gold with your marriage. Kristina treats you like royalty. Rain's coming down in sheets, yet with one message saying your stomach was acting up, she hurried over with medicine. Does she honestly believe you can't manage without her?"

The people speaking were Matthew Cooper's closest circle of friends, all assembled in the room.

"Everyone in Ouverpus knows Kristina is crazy about Matthew," another person remarked. "That car crash three years ago had left him without feeling in his legs, and she's been taking care of him devotedly all these years."

A different voice spoke with open scorn. "If that accident never happened, his grandmother would never have forced the marriage. Kristina was an orphan. What right did someone like her have to marry into the Cooper family?"

While the laughter and ridicule echoed without restraint, Matthew's voice finally cut through the room, calm and unhurried. "That's enough. Zoe just returned. No one mentions Kristina again."

The words were not spoken to defend his wife, Kristina Green. He simply didn't want Zoe Martin, the woman he truly cared for, to hear those remarks and feel uncomfortable.

Kristina tightened her grip around the bag of medicine. A sharp ache twisted through her chest, so fierce that even her fingertips began to tremble.

Rain trickled steadily from the black umbrella, dampening her dress as a biting cold crept through her body.

She lowered her gaze to the shoes on her feet, soaked through from the rain, and a faint, bitter smile slowly formed on her lips.

So the message that had filled her with panic and worry had only been part of their drinking game. How utterly absurd.

Zoe, seated next to Matthew, lifted her eyes and saw Kristina. Through the shifting glow of light and shadow, a self-satisfied smile appeared on her red lips.

She lightly nudged Matthew's arm with playful familiarity. "Matthew, that's enough. It's raining hard outside. Don't make things difficult for Kristina."

Matthew turned his head toward her. His tailored black suit fit flawlessly, the clean lines emphasizing his wide shoulders and giving him a calm, composed air.

Though his face remained partly obscured, the faint curve along his jaw suggested quiet amusement.

"Alright. I'll tell her to go home."

He pulled out his phone and typed a message. Moments later, Kristina's phone rang.

The music inside the room had just stopped.

With the sudden quiet settling over everything, the notification sound echoed sharply through the space.

Every head turned toward the doorway.

Kristina had already pushed the door open, her clothes damp as she walked toward Matthew.

Those who had been mocking her without restraint only moments earlier now showed faint embarrassment, though their voices still carried a hint of mockery.

"Wow, Kristina, you arrived pretty quickly."

Matthew's expression darkened, his refined brows knitting together. Before he could speak, several boxes of medicine suddenly flew toward him, hitting him squarely.

Kristina's expression had turned cold, completely devoid of the gentleness and obedience she once displayed. "So this is the stomach pain you mentioned? No wonder you didn't even bother coming home for dinner on our third wedding anniversary. Turns out your sweetheart has returned. You should've told me earlier so I wouldn't have wasted time preparing all that food. Since today means so much to you, I'll give you exactly what you want. Let's end this marriage. I'll set you free."

After finishing her words, she shot him a cold glance. The next second, she turned around and walked away.

The private room fell into absolute silence.

Everyone stared at one another, trading confused and shocked looks, unable to believe what they had just heard.

Kristina, the woman who adored Matthew more than anyone else, wanted a divorce? How could that be?

Matthew sat there with grains of the spilled stomach medicine still clinging to his forehead, making the usually composed man look strangely ridiculous.

...

Outside the club, the taxi driver remained waiting near the entrance.

Kristina climbed into the car. Watching the flashing lights and blurred figures drifting past the window, she fought back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

After arriving home, she pulled a suitcase from the corner and began packing. At the same time, she dialed her friend, Mabel Davies.

"Kristina? What's going on?" Mabel asked.

"Come to Bayview Estates and get me. Zoe has come back, and I'm divorcing Matthew."

Kristina spoke in an even, measured tone. Her words were short and steady, yet the meaning behind them landed like a thunderclap.

The line fell silent for a few seconds. Then Mabel exploded in a furious stream of insults.

"Matthew is a shameless bastard. Doesn't he have even a shred of conscience? You gave up everything and spent three whole years looking after him, and the moment he's finally able to stand again, he runs straight back to some other woman? Honestly, if it hadn't been for you, there's no way he would've recovered that quickly."

The more Mabel talked, the angrier she became, her voice rising until it sharpened into a near screech.

"Alright, that's enough. Quit your ranting and get moving," Kristina urged.

Only then did Mabel finally stop talking, though the silence came with clear reluctance. A second later, warmth returned to her voice. "Okay, okay. I'll drive over and pick you up right now!" she said with a cheerful laugh.

Once the call ended, Kristina remained still for a moment.

The grief she had been pressing down kept creeping back up, and every so often, it threatened to drown her entirely.

After packing her belongings, she cast one last look around the room. Her eyes eventually settled on the photograph resting on the nightstand, the one she had cleaned so many times.

It showed Matthew from behind. He stood facing the light, his tall frame rigid and unbending.

That particular business deal had turned far more perilous than expected. She had been hurt, and when death was within reach, Matthew had pulled her back from the brink.

Later, once she had wrapped up her own affairs and decided to repay that life-saving debt, she discovered that he had been involved in a car crash that left him unable to walk.

Afterward, under the firm insistence of his grandmother, she agreed to marry him and remained by his side, tending to him day and night.

More than a thousand days had passed. What she felt by then was no longer simple gratitude; affection had quietly taken root as well. Otherwise, the pain wouldn't cut this deeply now.

Before long, the powerful rumble of a luxury SUV echoed from downstairs.

"Kristina, I'm here to get you."

Mabel had arrived with remarkable speed.

Kristina forced down the lingering sorrow in her eyes, lifted her suitcase, and hurried downstairs before climbing into the car.

With a clean turn of the wheel, Mabel swung the vehicle around and sped away smoothly, leaving the mansion far behind.

Yet the ache in Kristina's chest refused to settle.

"Oh, wait. Take me to the Cooper estate first," she said.

Back then, while Matthew had been in fragile health, his mother, Kacie Cooper, had taken Kristina's identification documents and handled the process of registering their marriage. The certificate had been locked inside the family safe ever since.

Now Kristina had to retrieve it so she could complete the divorce with Matthew and finally end this marriage that existed only on paper.

It was already deep into the night. Instead of entering through the front door, she climbed through a window and slipped quietly into Kacie's room.

The bedroom was dark. Kacie lay asleep on the bed, her breathing slow and steady.

Kristina silently opened the safe. Inside were property documents and share certificates, and at the very bottom rested the marriage certificate bearing her name and Matthew's.

Everything went smoothly. She took the document and slipped back out to the car without disturbing a single person.

Sitting in the vehicle, she lifted the certificate resting on her lap and glanced down at it. Suddenly, she went still.

The husband's name printed on the certificate wasn't Matthew at all. It was Braeden Cooper, Matthew's uncle.

Braeden was the illegitimate son of Matthew's grandfather, Frank Cooper, conceived when Frank had already reached the age of fifty-four. Actually, Braeden was merely three years older than Matthew.

His standing within the Cooper family had always been painfully uncomfortable, and the family regarded him as nothing short of a stain on their reputation.

Although Frank had formally recognized him and taken him back into the family, the rest of the family refused to welcome him.

After Frank died, Braeden and his mother were forced to relocate to the city's outer edges, forbidden from showing their faces in public.

Kristina had never imagined that her lawful husband would be Braeden.

She heard that Braeden had spent the past few years overseas, working on building his career.

That meant if she wanted to end the marriage, she would have to travel abroad to track him down.

Noticing the pensive expression settling on her face, Mabel lost her composure. "Kristina, you're not still hung up on that bastard, are you? He's just one pathetic excuse for a man. You don't need to ruin your entire life over someone like him. There are plenty of better guys out there. Dumping a jerk like that should be reason enough to celebrate. I'm booking eight male escorts for you tonight so you can properly enjoy the perks of being a rich single woman!"

Kristina abruptly came back to her senses.

Since Matthew wasn't her husband at all, she was in no hurry to divorce.

She tucked the marriage certificate away, then casually propped her chin against one hand and turned to look at Mabel. The warmth that had lingered in her gaze disappeared, replaced by something colder and far more rebellious.

"Make sure every single one of them has eight-pack abs," she said coolly. "Otherwise, I'm not interested."

Mabel finally let out a breath and spun the steering wheel with a sharp motion. "Now that's more like it," she replied with a grin.

At seven in the evening, Kristina walked into Club Prism dressed in a black, ultra-short bodycon skirt, a cropped white blouse trimmed with ruffles and pulled tight at the waist, and a pair of studded lambskin ankle boots.

The top three buttons of her blouse were deliberately left undone, tracing the graceful curve of her chest.

A black choker circled her neck, making her smooth skin stand out even more.

Mabel, on the other hand, wore a red spaghetti-strap dress that made her look fiery and alluring.

The instant the two women stepped inside, they attracted countless hungry gazes from the men nearby.

Mabel guided Kristina straight toward one of the best booths on the first floor and beckoned the manager over, a premium membership card held between her fingers. "Bring me eight of your best male escorts," she instructed.

The manager glanced at the exclusive card, nodded at once, and hurried away to make the arrangements.

Kristina uncorked a bottle of liquor and took a small sip. As the music pulsed around her, she let her body sway lightly with the rhythm, finally allowing herself to loosen up after three years of holding everything in.

The attention fixed on her never faded.

A burly man draped in a chunky gold chain sauntered over, lazily spinning his car keys, and plopped down beside Kristina.

"Hey there, beautiful. Why waste time calling for male escorts? I could keep you entertained just fine," he drawled, his hungry gaze sliding straight toward her chest.

Before he could take in the sight properly, an ashtray suddenly hurtled toward him.

"Get out of here!" Mabel snapped. She hadn't aimed for his skull. Instead, the ashtray sliced through the air between his legs, a clear warning rather than a strike.

The man, Alec Hall, was a familiar face in the criminal underworld, and he clearly didn't regard the two pretty women as any sort of threat.

With a casual flick of his hand, several bodyguards dressed in black closed in and surrounded the booth.

Grinning obscenely, he tugged his belt free and sneered, "Listen carefully, ladies. Be obedient, and I promise I'll be gentle. Otherwise, you'll be groveling beneath me."

He even gave his thick waist a cocky thrust and stretched out a grimy hand toward Kristina.

But before his fingers could brush her, Kristina slipped aside as lightly as air and deftly twisted his belt into a tight knot.

She jerked it so sharply that Alec's mouth flew open with a pained gasp.

With a faint smile still resting on her lips, she chopped her hand down in a swift strike, sending the car keys flying from his grip while splitting his lip at the same time. "Close that filthy mouth."

The bodyguards surged forward immediately.

Kristina snatched a bottle from the table and smashed it across one man's head.

At the same moment, Mabel pivoted and drove a kick into another guard's neck, sending him sprawling hard onto the floor.

Alec finally coughed up the car keys he had bitten down on. His face burned crimson as he began shouting angrily, "Call more men over here! I'm not letting these two bitches walk away tonight!"

Up on the third floor, inside a private booth, someone let out a quiet exclamation.

"Hey, Braeden, doesn't that woman look a lot like Matthew's wife? But the whole aura is different. There's no way that's Kristina, that stay-at-home wife. Just look at her figure and those moves. She's dropping those guys like it's nothing."

Seated across from him in an armchair, Braeden slowly turned his head. In the dim lighting, his gaze settled on Kristina.

At that moment, she moved with the lethal grace of a hunting predator, and as she shifted, a sliver of her slim waist flashed into view.

His friend, Cristian Watson, clicked his tongue. "Things are getting intense over there. Two women against that many men. Braeden, this is your territory. Aren't you going to step in like some hero and rescue them?"

Right then, Alec suddenly pulled a dagger from his pocket and, using the chaos as cover, lunged toward Kristina's back.

Braeden's half-lowered eyes snapped fully open, a dangerous glint flashing through them.

As he rose abruptly to his feet, he grabbed the knife on the table, its blade glimmering coldly between his fingers with a deadly sheen.