I Want a Divorce Every Day, But the Superstar Says No-Chapter 79: I Just Want to Keep Her Locked Up Forever
"Cece..."
Out of nowhere, Durrell Landon suddenly spoke. His tone was calm, but it sent chills down her spine.
"If I kept you by my side for the rest of your life, would that finally prove what I’ve been saying?"
In that moment, she seemed to forget how to breathe. She could feel that Durrell was utterly, deadly serious as he said those words.
He really wanted to keep her locked away in Imperial View Manor for life.
Her face darkened. "If you really dared do that, I’d hate you for the rest of my life. Besides, you don’t have what it takes to keep me locked up forever."
Durrell kept his gaze lowered, quietly watching her. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile in his eyes, those pitch-black pupils shut out any light, the curve of his lips frosted and cold.
If you looked closely, you could see the veins on the back of his hand rising under the skin.
He was clearly holding back to his absolute limit.
After a long pause, he finally stood up without saying a word. He was terrified that if he said anything more, he really would just take her back to Imperial View Manor and lock her in his room—better yet, chained to the bed—so she would never be able to see anyone but him for life.
With rage burning, Durrell opened the door. Julian Haworth, plastered right against it, didn’t even have time to react and fell straight inside.
He let out a few embarrassed laughs. "Haha, Durrell... What a coincidence..."
As he spoke, his gaze kept flicking over to the strangely made-up woman sitting not far away.
Durrell shot Julian a dismissive glance, saying nothing, then turned to Oliver Gale standing a short distance off. "Oliver, take her back to Gentle Breeze Cottage."
Oliver gave a helpless nod. "Fine..."
Durrell strode out of the room. Oliver walked inside, glanced at Quiana Sutton, who looked as if she could barely breathe, raised an eyebrow, then made a grand, very proper gesture. "Your Highness, let’s go—allow me to take you home."
Quiana was caught off-guard for a moment. After a long pause, she muttered, "How childish..."
Julian: "..."
This ugly woman was Quiana Sutton? He’d been overthinking it for sure—there was no way Durrell would be gossiped about with any other woman.
His curiosity was like a blazing fire instantly doused until not even a spark remained.
On the drive back to Gentle Breeze Cottage, it was rush hour and traffic crawled along. Oliver Gale drove the car slowly.
He took a look at the silent Quiana in the passenger seat and asked blandly, "Did you and Durrell have a fight?"
She lowered her lashes and answered coolly, "No."
Right then they hit a red light, so Oliver stopped the car.
"How should I put it... I think Durrell really likes you. He’s been in control of everything since he was a kid—like some all-powerful god, looking down on the masses without a scrap of feeling.
But when he’s with you, it’s as if that high-up god has been dragged down to earth by you—suddenly he has all the emotions and confusion the rest of us do.
I’ve never seen him this obsessed with anyone, so drawn in he can suppress every instinct just for you."
Oliver glanced again at Quiana, who’d been silent the entire time, and continued, "Life’s really not that long—there isn’t that much time to waste.
If Durrell likes you so much, and you don’t really dislike him, why get divorced? Why not try accepting him?"
Quiana didn’t move, her eyes still fixed on the ever-changing scenery out the window. "But what if I do accept him—and then he regrets it later, and wants a divorce then?"
"Then just cling to him. Ruin his reputation. Let everyone know he’s the kind of man who dumps women after getting what he wants."
Quiana: "..."
"Are you really his friend?"
Oliver arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
...
Not long after Oliver dropped Quiana back at her apartment, Durrell Landon called him.
"She home yet?"
Oliver replied, exasperation in his voice, "Yeah. If you’re so worried, why not take her yourself?"
Durrell only said two words: "Thanks..."
Then he hung up.
Oliver stared at his phone in disbelief as the call ended.
Such a shitty temper.
No wonder Cece wanted a divorce from him so badly.
Quiana went back to her apartment, looked down at the shattered mirror on the floor—each shard reflected a different version of her face.
She ignored it, wiped off her makeup, washed her face, changed her clothes, and got ready to head out.
Psychotherapy clinic.
She slumped on the couch, sounding almost defeated. "That personality came out again."
Ian Donovan was a little taken aback. He got up to pour her a cup of her favorite coffee. "Miss Quiana, have your moods really been swinging a lot lately?"
No shit!
Her life had been nothing but trouble lately—how could her moods not be a mess?
Nathan Firth suddenly showed up in Capital City, his intentions unclear.
After Durrell lost his memory, he’d been hounding her with a near-compulsive intensity.
Angrily, she grabbed the coffee and downed it in one gulp.
Right after the last drop, her eyelids grew heavy. She started hearing a repeating, familiar tune—then she realized something. She wanted to yell out, but couldn’t. She could only feel her body collapsing into darkness.
Within that familiar melody, fragments of memory began to gather, gnawing into her heart once more.
"You and Heng were both kidnapped—so why did he die, and not you?"
"Heng was a once-in-a-century genius. He graduated college at thirteen. Compared to him, you’re nothing."
"From now on, you’re not allowed a single toy in your room. Heng never got to enjoy any of this—so neither do you."
...
She stood at the heart of her memories, replaying these scenes over and over. At first her heart was numb, but gradually she spiraled toward madness. Even the figure she hated most appeared before her, eyes full of pity as he looked at her:
"You want to destroy everything too, don’t you? If you don’t have the guts to do it yourself, then leave your body to me." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮
She backed away, body radiating resistance. "Even if I end up destroying it all, I don’t need you to do it for me."
The voice was full of regret. "One day, you’ll need me..."
...
Suddenly, the melody sped up. That figure turned blurry, fading out of her memory, disappearing.
She snapped her eyes open, glanced at Ian Donovan sitting nearby, got to her feet, walked over to his desk, and kicked it hard.
The desktop split instantly, everything on top crashing to the floor. Her eyes were murderous and cold:
"You actually dared drug me and hypnotize me?"
Ian was so terrified he could barely talk, stammering, "Miss Quiana, you’re usually so vigilant—if I don’t drug you, I can’t help you suppress that other personality."
The violence in Quiana’s eyes lessened a bit, but she was still icy cold.
"Forget it. I’ll let it slide this time."
Ian: "???"
Did he really just get away with it this time?
Quiana stayed silent. Incense burned in the therapy office, its scent lingering in the air. It brought back painful memories—but also a few beautiful ones, too.
