📕He had me slapped 100 times for his widowed sister-in-law.I called:“Still want to marry me?”

Vivi had tried to seduce her aloof and indifferent husband countless times, yet every attempt to consummate their marriage ended in failure. Eventually, she gave up and began making arrangements for a divorce.
The call from her lawyer came with hesitation.
“Vivi, there’s something wrong with the official seal on your marriage certificate. It's fake.”
Vivi instinctively denied it. “Impossible!”
The lawyer sighed. “I had someone look into it. Legally, you’re single. But Cyrus... he is married.”
“To whom?” she asked in a daze.
“Ivy.”
Ivy—Cyrus’s widowed sister-in-law.
The words struck her like a thunderclap. Refusing to believe it, Vivi rushed to the study to confront Cyrus. But just as she pushed the door open a crack, a muffled groan stopped her in her tracks.
Under the dim light, Cyrus, usually cold and ascetic, leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and his neatly pressed trousers lay in a heap at his feet. One of his hands was moving beneath him.
All traces of his usual composure were gone, replaced by the telltale flush of desire on his face. His cold, impassive eyes were now burning with unmistakable passion, fixed on a photo frame on the desk.
Inside the frame was Ivy’s picture.
Only then did Vivi realize the truth: from the very first night of their marriage, when Cyrus had insisted on sleeping in separate rooms, it hadn’t been because of some lack of desire. He simply wasn’t attracted to her. The only person who could arouse his passion had never been her.
Cyrus eventually stilled. On the other side of the door, Vivi stood frozen, tears streaming down her face.
“Ivy...” he murmured hoarsely, his head tilted back against the chair in a daze. “I love you…”
The sharp pain in her palm brought her back to her senses—her fingernails had dug so deep into her skin that blood seeped out.
She quietly closed the study door, returned to the bedroom in silence, and then, with trembling fingers, pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Lancelot, do you still want to marry me?”
There was a brief pause on the other end before the man responded with a lazy drawl. “Not into married women.”
Vivi moved to hang up. “Forget it, then.”
His voice changed instantly, now urgent. “Wait! I’ll be back in a week!”
She paused mid-motion, then let out a soft laugh. “See you at the civil affairs bureau. One week from now.
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