"Fu, we should divorce." My voice was flat. The morning light made half my living room shimmer; my hand shook when I set the phone on speaker and watched the red dot blink. "Say that again?" His voice came through like ice. "I want a divorce." I put the words where he couldn't ignore them. I heard cars on the street, a neighbor's dog barking, nothing that mattered. I heard my heartbeat only when I let it. "Have you thought this through?" he asked, clinical. No warmth. No pause. "I have." I pictured silk sleeves, incense, a screen lowered between us. The memory hit like a smell of old perfume—sharp, specific. One sentence flashed: The emperor took another woman's hand in public and laughed. Two sentences later, a woman bowed to him and he looked away. I tasted metal and cold tea. The flash ended the moment I spoke. "Is this about last night?" Fu Yuchen's voice tightened. "About that rumor Chen Li started?" "No." I swallowed. "It's not about rumors." Silence filled the room. He had a way of turning silence into a weapon. "You can't just—" he began. "Yes, I can." I said it slow. "I'll file. I'll sign. We'll be divorced within the week." "You're an actress with a contract tied to StreamWave. You know the losses involved." He laid out numbers like a threat. "You're asking me to accept financial damage and a public