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The day I got divorced, I received a system. It promised me the world, on one condition: I had to make my bastard ex-husband suffer. Oh. My. God. This was going to be epic. Aurora POV "Sign the papers if you're awake. Evelyn is waiting. I don't have time for this." Owen's voice was low, layered with the arrogance of unchallenged authority. It felt colder than the conditioned air in the room, a chill that seeped straight into my bones. My throat was packed with wet cotton, the ghost of a suffocation that wouldn't fade. I jerked upright. My vision focused on the opulent yet stark crystal chandelier, and then on the man across from me, his head bowed, checking his watch, a look of impatience etched on his face. Owen. On the table, the divorce agreement lay, a stark, blinding white. Memories exploded in my mind. In my last life, I'd wasted three years on this man. I concealed severe depression and swallowed every humiliation for the sake of the Owen family's reputation. Finally, on a storm-ravaged night I died of a heart attack. The trigger was a viral post: him and his lover Evelyn watching fireworks from a yacht. When I died, I was still clutching that absurd crucifix, the one I'd prayed over for his safety. "Five million dollars isn't enough?" mistook my silence. The line between his brows deepened, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. "Aurora, know your place. Evelyn has endured far worse than you. This five million is your last chance to leave with some dignity." Dignity? I really wanted to laugh, but my lungs still ached. "Ding!" "Grudge Level: Achieved. Emotional Monetization System: Activated." "Target Locked: Owen." "Rule Set: Any negative emotion (anger, shock, regret, pain) generated by the Target toward the Host will be converted into currency in real time, at a proportional rate." "Special Warning: Should the Host develop positive affective attachment to the Target, all assets will be liquidated, and the Host will be terminated." Lines of translucent, icy blue text hung suspended in my vision. I froze for half a second, then pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart was slamming against my ribs. I just have to not fall in love with him to live? And I get paid to piss him off? This wasn't a divorce settlement. This was a goddamn jackpot! "Aurora, my patience is limited." Owen's finger tapped the coffee table, a 'tap-tap' like a death knell. "Don't force me to get my lawyers involved. Then you won't even get this five million." Five million dollars. In my last life, hearing that number, I'd bawled my eyes out, begging him on my knees not to leave me. I was so foolish back then, actually believing feelings were more important than money. I lifted my head. Those eyes, once filled with tentative affection and adoration, were now starkly empty, like a dry well reflecting none of Owen's image. I reached out, bypassing his tapping hand, and snatched the divorce agreement. I flipped straight to the end. Grabbed the pen. The pen scraped across the paper, a soft, deliberate sound, without a single pause. I signed my name, a firm, decisive stroke that tore through the last page. I saw Owen open his mouth, as if he'd prepared a mouthful of scorn and threats, but the words died in his throat. He stared at the still-wet ink of my name, his face blank for a moment. Signed. She signed it. The woman who would call him three times, crying, if she so much as pricked her finger, the one who clung to him with no dignity - she just signed it. No wailing, no tearful pleas about not being able to live without him. I could feel a strange, almost irritable sense of defeat radiating from him. It was like punching a cloud, leaving him utterly frustrated. "Ding! Target detected generating 'irritation and frustration'." "Plus the frustration of wanting to rage but finding no legitimate excuse." "Account credited: $500,000.00." My phone screen lit up on the table. A bank SMS popped up: "Your account ending in 8888 has received $500,000.00. Current balance: $500,000.00." I gazed at that pleasing string of zeros, and the color swiftly returned to my pale cheeks. Even my breathing felt easier. Owen's discomfort really was this valuable! I tossed the signed agreement casually onto the coffee table with a crisp thump. Then I stood up, light on my feet like a bird finally freed from its shackles. "It's signed. Mr. Owen, the access card is on the cabinet in the hallway, the password hasn't changed. I'll leave now, make room for Ms. Evelyn." I didn't even spare Owen another glance, turning to pack my handbag. Silence behind me, but I could clearly feel his gaze burning into my back. I felt the knot of unease in his chest. In his silence, I could almost hear a flicker of unvoiced doubt: Did she really not care anymore? Ding! Target 'Self-Doubt & Trace Anxiety' detected. Critical Hit! Bonus Activated. Account credited: $2,000,000.00. Two million! I almost burst out laughing. With my back to Owen, my lips curved into a wild, delighted smile, and my hands worked faster. I had to strike while the iron was hot, gather some startup capital. "Aurora!" Owen finally lost it, covering the distance in a few angry strides and gripping my wrist. His palm was searing hot, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my bones. "What game are you playing?" He stared into my eyes. "Taking this five million and leaving me, what kind of life do you think you'll have? Sleeping under a bridge?" My wrist throbbed. I lowered my head slightly, my gaze falling on his hand clamped around mine. Once, I'd longed for these hands to hold mine, even for a second. Now, they just felt dirty. I extended my other hand, slowly, deliberately, prying his fingers open, one by one. My movements were unhurried but firm, not allowing any resistance. "Owen, you think too highly of yourself." I stepped back, rubbing my reddened wrist, then met his gaze. There was no love in my eyes, no hate, just the disgust one might feel for trash on the roadside. "I was blind before, I cherished you like a treasure. Now my eyes are open, and looking at you..." I let out a soft laugh, clear as a bell, each word a knife: "You just make me sick." Boom- I saw Owen's body visibly stiffen, as if something had exploded in his brain. At that moment, I'd bet Owen felt his dignity had been utterly trampled, then ground into the dirt for good measure. "Ding! Target detected generating 'extreme shock and damaged self-esteem'." "Assessed as S-Rank Emotional Fluctuation!" "Account credited: $5,000,000.00." With the previous amounts, that was seven and a half million dollars. In a few words, I'd earned more than his pathetic divorce settlement. My mood soared. I pulled out my phone and, right in front of Owen's ashen face, called for the most luxurious private car service. "Hello, Apex Car Service? Location: Hillside Villa district, I need a car now, I'm willing to pay extra." After hanging up, I tilted my phone screen to show the massive balance that had just cleared. "Don't worry about me sleeping under any bridge." "After all, since I left you..." I drew a slow breath, and for the first time since my rebirth, a smile of pure, uncomplicated bliss spread across my face. "I've discovered the air itself smells sweeter when it's scented with money."