My husband's true love and I are trapped when a fire breaks out. He's a firefighter—when he arrives on scene, he chooses to save her without hesitation.

I barely make it out alive. Once I do, I demand a divorce.

He doesn't understand why. He asks, "Why do you want to divorce me? Because I didn't save you first?"

I angrily throw the divorce agreement in his face. "Yes, that's exactly why! Because you chose to save your old flame when she was further from you!"

Lying in a hospital bed, I brought up divorce to Benedict Langley.

Rubbing his temples in exhaustion, he sounded impatient. "I was up all night dealing with the fire in Norham and just lay down to rest, yet you drag me here for this? Is this some kind of joke?"

Ignoring his irritation, I coldly took out the divorce papers. "I'm not joking. Let's get divorced. You bought the house in full before marriage—I'm not asking for it. The car is mine, so I'll take it. As for the money we earned after marriage, we split it 50-50. You don't have any objections, do you?"

Seeing that I wasn't joking, Benedict finally took me seriously. "Why are you divorcing me? Is it because I saved Cece first?

At those words, the fury I had been suppressing finally erupted.

Benedict was a firefighter.

A week ago, I ran into Celestine Aldridge at the supermarket while shopping. Back then, I naively thought she and Benedict were nothing more than former classmates, so I stopped to chat with her for a bit.

But out of nowhere, the supermarket caught fire. The blaze spread rapidly. Before we could escape, flames had already surrounded us.

I didn't know how long it took, but when we were barely conscious, the firefighters finally arrived.

By some cruel twist of fate, the one who reached us first was Benedict. Yet he didn't even spare me a glance before picking up Celestine.

I thought he hadn't seen me. Desperate, I clung to the hem of his uniform as he passed.

With barely a breath left, I pleaded with him, "Benedict… Please, save me."

But without hesitation, he kicked my hand away.

"Cece is about to collapse—I have to get her out first. I'll come back for you later."

With that, he rushed out, carrying Celestine in his arms.

Through the flickering flames, I could have sworn I saw Celestine smirk at me in triumph.

At that moment, I suddenly recalled what Benedict's mother, Genevieve Marlowe, had once said—he had a high school sweetheart.

So, Celestine was the woman he could never let go of.

God knew how much I broke down at that moment. My own husband had left me to die while saving his first love. For a while, I really thought I wouldn't make it out of that fire alive.

And now that I had miraculously survived, he had the nerve to act as if my reason for divorce was ridiculous?

I couldn't hold back anymore. I hurled the cup in my hand at him with all my strength.

"I'm your wife! In a life-or-death moment, you chose to save your ex-girlfriend first. Do you even have a heart?"

Drenched in coffee, Benedict looked utterly displeased.

Mindful of the hospital setting, he lowered his voice and snapped, "Enough! Are you a shrew? You're my wife—that's exactly why I had to save Cece first! Otherwise, people would think I was being biased!"

I let out a hollow laugh as I heard Benedict's explanation.

"Benedict, spare me the nonsense. If things were really as you said, I might feel wronged, but I wouldn't be divorcing you over it.

"Do you think I don't know? When a firefighter is faced with a life-or-death choice, the protocol is to save the closest person first. I was clearly nearer to you. Celestine was lagging far behind because she ran slower. Yet, you didn't even look at me—you went straight to her.

"Ask yourself honestly—was there really no personal bias in your decision?"

Caught off guard, Benedict stiffened.

A long silence followed before he awkwardly reached for my hand. "Ophelia, I admit it—I just wanted to get her out first and come back for you right away. She's my friend. I couldn't just leave her to die, could I?"

I yanked my hand away and sneered. "Amazing. Leaving your wife, who was closer, and going out of your way to save a friend instead. Did she give you a fortune, or did she save your entire family, for you to be so devoted to her?

"And tell me. In the three days I've been hospitalized, have you come to see me even once? Or have you spent all your time comforting your traumatized sweetheart?"

Benedict opened his mouth, struggling for a retort, but no words came out.

Since we were already at this point, I figured I might as well tear the last shred of pretense apart. "If she were your wife, and I were just a friend, who would you have saved first?"

His whole body went rigid. His gaze flickered evasively.

I closed my eyes. "Let's get divorced."

I already knew the answer.

He still didn't nod. But he had nothing left to say. In the end, all he did was hastily throw out an "I don't agree to the divorce" before rushing out the door.

Look at that—he knew he was in the wrong and was too ashamed to even face me.

I put away the divorce papers and called my best friend, Anwen Sinclair, a lawyer.

I asked her to prepare the legal documents for filing a divorce suit and to find me a place to live after I was discharged.

If Benedict refused to settle this amicably, then we would do it through the courts. I wasn't going to endure this for another day.

After I was hospitalized, waves of people came to visit me—old classmates, friends, and coworkers. But never in a million years did I expect Celestine to show up.

Gone was her smug smirk from that night. Now, she was crying like a delicate flower in the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Ophelia. I didn't know Benedit would save me first. I had already passed out from the smoke. If I had been conscious, I never would've allowed him to do that.

"Please don't be mad at Benedict. If you want to take it out on someone, take it out on me."

Saying this, she grasped my wrist and weakly slapped her own face a few times.

I watched her little performance with cold indifference.

She knew full well that my hand was burned, still wrapped in bandages, and too weak to exert any force.

How convenient—she used that to stage this pathetic act.

I must have been blind before. How had I never noticed she was the ultimate manipulative schemer?

The stench of pretense was so thick that I was suffocating.

Just like a cheap soap opera, in the next second—right on cue—Benedict burst into the hospital room. He violently swatted my hand away and pulled Celestine into his arms, his face filled with distress.

"Cece, what are you doing? The fire wasn't your fault, and she wasn't injured trying to save you. Why are you blaming yourself?" Benedict said.

Celestine clung to his chest, sobbing and shaking her head. "But I just feel awful! I wish I had been the one burned instead. If I were the one lying here, I'd feel a little better about it."

Watching this pair of shameless lovers put on such a melodramatic show in front of me almost made me gag.

With a mocking sneer, I said, "You should feel guilty. My dear husband chose to save his old flame while leaving his actual wife to fend for herself. If I were to spread the word, do you think the two of you would be drowned in public outrage?"

Celestine stiffened for a moment at my words, but she quickly recovered and suddenly lunged toward the wall as if to bash her head against it. "Let me die! Let me die! It's my fault Ophelia got burned. I'll compensate her with my life!"

Benedict paled and rushed to grab her. "Cece, don't do anything rash! Ophelia is just upset. She didn't mean to blame you!"

I seized the moment and added fuel to the fire, my voice even louder than Celestine's tearful wails as I said, "Who said I didn't mean it? I do blame her!

"She knew you were married, yet she still clung to you. And you—you knew that whoever wasn't rescued first would likely die, but you didn't hesitate to choose your ex. If it weren't for your coworker arriving in time, I wouldn't even be alive right now. Am I not even allowed to resent the mistress?"

Benedict could no longer tolerate me verbally lashing out at his innocent first love. With a loud smack, he slapped me hard across the face.

"You're being unreasonable! Cece is delicate and fragile. What's wrong with me saving her first? It's not like you're dead, are you?"

That slap severed the last shred of emotion I had for him.

Exhausted, I turned to my caretaker, Thea Winslow.

"Thea, I'll pay you a thousand dollars. Get these two pests out of my sight."

Thea didn't hesitate. She rolled up her sleeves and gave each of them a resounding slap.

Benedict, with his thick skin, barely flinched. Celestine, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Her meticulously styled hair came undone, her face swelled up on one side, and she let out an ear-piercing shriek.

I nodded in satisfaction. "Well done, Thea. Another thousand-dollar bonus for you."

Emboldened, Thea didn't hold back. Despite being a middle-aged woman, she had no trouble chasing the two young lovers out of my hospital room, leaving them scrambling like frightened rats.

After I was discharged, Anwen decided to accompany me home. She packed my things, unwilling to let me be alone.

Forcing a smile, I tried to sound nonchalant. "You're so busy, yet you still made time for me. I feel bad about this."

She flicked my forehead lightly. "Don't pretend you are happy. Do you really need to wear a mask even in front of me?"

With just those words, the walls I had so carefully built around my emotions crumbled.

I threw myself into her arms and broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably. All the grievances, all the pain, I let them pour out.

Holding me tight, Anwen whispered, seething with anger. "Don't cry. The best revenge against a scumbag is to live a happy life."

After a few more comforting curses on my behalf, my sobs gradually subsided.

Wiping my tears, we finally stepped into my home.

But the moment we saw what was inside, Anwen's face twisted in fury, and she nearly jumped in rage.