Leopold snorted with a touch of arrogance, "What difference does it make what they think? It's what I think that matters." Aurelia still couldn't wrap her head around it. He was surrounded by a bevy of women, each more stunning and curvaceous than the last, throwing themselves at him. Could he really be unaffected? "How do you resist the advances and temptations of such beauties?" she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow, with a mocking glint in his eye, "Women I'm not interested in are just air to me." Aurelia took a deep breath, fearing the day she, too, might becair.

She still believed he once had feelings for Megan, but now that he despised her. The past dream lover had turned to air.

"With your hormones raging, how do you deal with physical needs? Are you sure you have never had a fling with others?" Leopold choked on her question, coughing lightly with a mix of amusement and exasperation, "I only have those needs when I see you." Usually, his hormones were as still as a frozen pond, completely dormant.

Aurelia pulled a face. She knew her worth well enough, even if she was fairly attractive, she wasn't that irresistible.

"Are you trying to sweet-talkbecause you want to remarry?" "Can't you trusteven a little?" He had opened his heart to her, been honest and forthright, and yet she still doubted him.

Aurelia lowered her gaze. The thought was too overwhelming, too shocking, too incredible, and she was flattered beyond belief.

Deep down, of course, she wanted to believe him. Who doesn't want to be the sole desire of their beloved? But chances were that he was just sweet-talking her was ninety-nine percent.

Even Mr. Leopold, high and mighty, imperious and authoritative, had learned how to woo a woman.

She yawned.

"I'm too exhausted by you, and my brain's not working. I need sleep." Leopold sighed in resignation. "Sleep then. Hopefully, when you wake up, you'll be able to trust me." Aurelia closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep.

That night, she dreamed she was walking down the aisle in a stunning wedding dress, with Leopold by her side.

White gowns, red carpets, beautiful roses, bubbling champagne... everything was perfect.

But upon waking, all she felt was an immense sense of loss.

She could no longer wear the white dress. Tradition dictated that only a first-tbride could wear white.

They had even set a wedding date, and she had started planning her gown. Instead, she got a divorce certificate.

Now, even if they remarried, what would it mean? She was no longer the first wife, just the third-tbride.

Thinking about it was agonizing.

When the dawn broke, she sat up, ready to get out of bed, encircled by Leopold's arm, "Can't sleep?" Irritated, she pried his arm away, with her mind in turmoil.

"Leopold, I've thought about it and I won't remarry you." Her cold words instantly banished his drowsiness, and he leaped up from the bed.

It seemed that her clarity hadn't led to trust but instead turned her into a knife.

"Why?" "Because I refuse to be the wife of a thrice-married man. In the Stirling family, the first wife holds the highest honor. I've gone from first wife to third. Then, not only has my value plummeted, but I've also lost the right to wear a white gown. If we have a wedding, I'll have to wear pink, and I hate pink!" Her frustrations ballooned to the extreme.

Leopold was utterly disheveled by her outburst, caught off guard by her unique way of thinking.

"Arnold's been divorced too, and marrying him wouldn't make you the first wife either."

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