After my wife was sexually assaulted by her superior, she became averse to any physical contact with me, and I chose to divorce Chapter 1

Late that night, my wife stumbled home, disheveled.

Her stockings were shredded, her skirt barely clung to her waist, and her skin was a canvas of angry red marks.

The moment she walked through the door, she rushed into the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the marks on her body.

She scrubbed herself raw.

I wanted to take her to the police.

But after countless washes, there was no bodily fluid evidence left on her. The police ultimately refused to open a case, citing insufficient evidence.

Rage consumed me. I stormed into her office and beat that bastard boss within an inch of his life.

That landed me seven days in a holding cell.

Not only that, but after the incident, my wife developed severe psychological issues, refusing my touch for two whole months.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped the bombshell: I wanted a divorce, right there in front of her entire family.

Seraphina stared at me, disbelief etched on her face.

"Was it my fault I was assaulted? You're divorcing me because of this?"

I looked at her coldly, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes. Precisely because you were assaulted, I'm divorcing you."