Only a few days later, the headlines blared: Christian had paid a fortune for Abigail at auction.

Abigail was now signed to Christian’s entertainment company. Rumors about her and her boss had circulated for years—but this time, unlike before, Christian’s Group openly acknowledged that their president was actively pursuing Miss Abigail.

According to the announcement, Christian had divorced his ex-wife long ago. As for Miss Abigail, she had not yet accepted his advances and was still considering them.

Well-wishers flooded the comments with blessings for the couple, and many voiced their envy of Abigail.

【Christian is so devoted and handsome. If I were Abigail, I’d be over the moon.】

【Our Abby is a total catch! She’s got her pick of wealthy bachelors. Let’s be real—Christian’s divorced. If anything, *he’s* the one marrying up.】

Samantha smiled faintly when she saw the news.

Christian and Abigail had already done everything behind closed doors. Yet publicly, he played the humble admirer, acting as if she were out of his league.

He really did think of everything for her.

Setting the magazine aside, Samantha headed upstairs to pack.

Just then, her phone rang—Christian.

“Abigail’s birthday party is tonight. You’re coming.”

“I don’t want to.”

They were already divorced. Samantha refused to play along any longer.

But Christian wasn’t asking.

“Samantha, when I say come, you come. No arguments.”

“The divorce isn’t final for another month. Legally, I’m still your husband. You *will* be there.”

He hung up.

Samantha listened to the dial tone, bitterness sharp in her throat.

He called himself her husband—yet paraded openly with another woman.

In the end, she went. She just wanted to get through this last month quietly, then leave. No more conflict.

Abigail’s birthday party was lavish, drawing celebrities from every corner of the city—clearly arranged with great care by Christian.

The two appeared hand in hand, soaking in the guests’ flattery and toasts.

When it came time to cut the cake, Abigail blew out the candles and made a wish. The moment she opened her eyes, Christian laid a key before her.

“Abigail, this is for you—the estate at the peak of South Mountain.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“So Christian was the one who bought that three-billion-dollar house on South Mountain—for Abigail.”

“Incredibly generous. She’s hit the jackpot.”

On stage, Abigail looked genuinely moved. Amid the cheers, she rose shyly onto her toes, leaning in as though to kiss Christian’s cheek.

But Christian suddenly took control—cupping the back of her head and capturing her lips in a deep, claiming kiss.

The venue erupted. Screams and applause pushed the atmosphere to its peak.

Samantha slipped away alone into the garden for air.

She stood in the breeze, clearing her head, and was about to turn back when the sliding door opened.

Abigail swept out, posture haughty.

“Samantha, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Why?”

Abigail stopped in front of her and smiled.

“I had a reason, of course. Do you know why I insisted Christian invite you tonight?”

So it was Abigail’s idea.

Samantha regarded her calmly.

“Because I wanted you to see with your own eyes how much Christian dotes on me, and…” Abigail’s smile turned cold. “I wanted you… to be punished by him.”

As she spoke, Abigail suddenly raised her hand and flung something with force. A sharp *plop* echoed as it hit the water of the pool in front of them.

Before Samantha could react, the sliding glass door behind her burst open, and a group of people, led by Christian, rushed out.

“Abigail, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing out here?”

“Christian…”

She threw herself into his arms, her voice trembling with feigned hurt. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect the gift you gave me. The house key…”

“What happened to it?”

“Your ex-wife threw it into the pool!”

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds before dissolving into a wave of murmurs from the onlookers.

“No wonder her husband left her. She looks decent enough, but who knew she had such a venomous heart?”

“What man would dare marry such a jealous woman? Good thing Mr. Christian divorced her long ago.”

Through the rising chatter, Christian strode toward Samantha.

“Samantha, apologize to Abigail. Now.”

“I didn’t throw the key.”

“You’re still lying? There were only two of you here! If you didn’t do it, then did Abigail throw her own key? Why would she do that?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Christian paused, then understood what she was implying. Fury ignited in his eyes.

“Samantha, are you going to apologize or not?”

“No.”

“Fine. If you won’t apologize, then get in the pool and retrieve the key yourself!”

With that, he shoved her forcefully into the water.

A loud splash sent water spraying everywhere. People on the deck gasped, hands flying to their mouths.

The moment she hit the water, Samantha knew something was wrong.

She knew how to swim, but her head felt heavy and muddled, her limbs leaden and unresponsive.

*That drink… Someone drugged my drink.*

Helplessly, her body bobbed in the water, too weak to even struggle. She could only watch as the group on the deck turned and walked away.

Finally, the icy water flooded her lungs, and darkness swallowed her whole.

…

Samantha woke to the sound of voices.

Two young nurses were changing her IV bag by the hospital bed, chattering away.

“Can you believe she’s still pretending to be unconscious? She threw Ms. Abigail’s birthday gift into the pool, and Ms. Abigail didn’t even press charges.”

“I heard she can swim. She must have overdone the act—trying to play the victim for sympathy and nearly drowning herself.”

“Mr. Christian would never pity her. She’s the one clinging to him. If I were him, I’d choose Ms. Abigail too.”

Their footsteps faded as they left the room.

The door clicked shut. Samantha opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A strange sense of relief washed over her. *Thank God I’m not as in love with Christian as they think I am.*

Only by not loving could you avoid being hurt.

That afternoon, Samantha checked herself out of the hospital.

Unbeknownst to her, during the two days she was unconscious, the drama from Abigail’s birthday party had exploded in the media.

She was painted as a jealous, vindictive ex-wife, seeking revenge on Abigail after being discarded by her former husband.

Samantha stepped out of a taxi at the entrance to the gated villa community.

She had taken only a few steps when someone hurled a basin of foul-smelling liquid over her head.

“You bitch! Here’s some ‘holy water’ to cleanse your filthy soul!”

“Our Abigail is kind, but her fans aren’t pushovers. Try bullying her again, and you’ll regret it!”

It was one of Abigail’s delusional fans.

They’d actually resorted to something as insane as throwing urine.

“Stop right there!”

Samantha lunged forward to chase them.

The fan whipped out a phone, snapping pictures of her drenched, reeking state while laughing hysterically.

“I’m sending these to the media right now! Divine retribution for a wicked heart!”

“You—!”