After quietly sorting things out in her mind, she finally came to two conclusions.
She had been reborn, from Hedy Everett to Irene Morgan.
The one inhabiting this body before her was a worthless girl madly in love with Lennon.
Her mother had gotten sick and died a while ago, and her father was a pathetic scumbag.
There was a knock on the door.
The sound startled Irene out of her reverie.
A cold voice came from the other side of the door.
"May I come in?"
She hastily rolled up the bottom of the pants and hurried to open the door.
A tall and dull-looking man stood there, holding a stack of papers in his hand.
"Ivan."
Irene quickly searched her memories and retrieved the man's name.
His face expressionless, Ivan Chavez handed her the documents and a pen.
"Mr. Marshall asked me to see you out. As soon as you sign the divorce papers."
Irene glanced at the documents, recalling what the butler had said earlier.
Today was the second wedding anniversary of Lennon and Irene, but from now on, it would also be the end of their marriage.
Was the divorce agreement cooked up in less than an hour? Lennon must really hate Irene.
She took the agreement and started turning pages, signing 'Irene Morgan' neatly wherever it was necessary.
She was done in less than thirty seconds.
"There you go," Irene said as she returned the papers to Ivan and clicked the pen.
Ivan looked at her in astonishment, eyebrows raised. He didn't expect it to be so easy.
When Lennon asked him to bring over the agreement, he told Ivan that Irene didn't want to sign it, so he might have to use force.
"Don't you want to read it first?" Ivan said, still not reaching out to take the papers.
Irene raised her eyebrows and replied flatly, "No."
"Aren't you curious about what you are getting out of this divorce?"
Ivan was frowning now, looking more and more confused.
Irene raised her eyebrows while hitching up her pants. She flashed Ivan a smile.
"There is no need to read it. I know that there are two possible outcomes.
One is that I am in a world of debt and go bankrupt soon, and the other is that I have to leave this marriage without a penny.
I am sure Lennon put together a team of exceptional lawyers to work on the best option for him."
Ivan's eyes darkened. He took the divorce papers and said, "Mr. Marshall just wants you to walk away without getting any of his assets."
"Well, make sure you thank him on my behalf."
Irene really didn't give a shit about it at all. It was this body's former occupant that loved Lennon, not her.
She didn't even care if the man lived or died. She didn't want a violent man like him for a husband — a man that would strangle his own wife to death.
She now had another chance to live and she intended to make the best of it.
Ivan's eyes fell on Irene's neck.
"Would you like me to call a doctor for you?"
Irene was at a loss for a moment. Then she remembered the bruises around her neck and raised her hand to touch them.
The feeling of suffocation came back to her and she had to shake her head to get rid of it.
"No, thanks. I'm fine. It's not that bad," she replied, shrugging.
"Then please pack your things." Ivan's tone was back to normal — cold and businesslike.
She nodded and left Lennon's bedroom barefoot, still pulling up her pants.
She had a long way to go to reach her own bedroom.
Lennon hated Irene so much that he didn't even want to bump into her in the corridor, so her room was all the way to the other side of the huge house.
It took her nearly two minutes to get there.
Her bedroom had originally been a storage room, but soon after Irene and Lennon's wedding, Irene moved in here.
She pushed the door open and walked through the narrow doorway nimbly.
The room was really small. It only contained a bed and a dressing table. The furniture was so close together that there was no room to walk around properly.
Irene didn't have much to pack. Except for her cosmetics strewn all over the dressing table and a few clothes, she didn't have much else.
She changed into her own clothes and stuffed the rest of her things into a suitcase.
"Okay, I'm all packed. I'm leaving now. I hope I will never see you again, Ivan! Goodbye!" Irene said in a carefree, cool voice as she dragged her suitcase across the hall.
"Irene, where do you think you are going?"
Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open, revealing a woman in a business suit.
Her high heels clicked on the marble floor, the sound crisp and curt, matching her sharp voice perfectly.
Irene stopped to look at the woman approaching her.
"Alice?"
Alice Jenkins was her half-sister — a veritable two-faced bitch.