Solana stared at him, completely lost, confusion clouding her face.

On seeing this, Wilbert shoved his phone screen right in front of her.

"You bribed the media to broadcast banners across the entire city—twenty-four hours nonstop—calling Imogen a murderer! Who else would do something this insane?! Do you know she's now so traumatized because of you that her depression has worsened? She doesn't even dare step outside!"

Solana glanced at the screen, her expression flat.

"That wasn't me." But her voice dropped sharply, and a frost settled in her eyes. "Still, every word on that banner is true. Imogen is a murderer. She deserves to pay with her life."

"Shut up!"

Wilbert's face darkened to steel. His hand lifted, ready to strike—but when he saw how pale she was, the slap halted mid-air. His gaze, however, stayed razor-cold.

"Stop spouting nonsense! Imogen didn't mean it. She's been so guilty she hasn't eaten in days! What more do you want?!"

Starving herself?

As if a skipped meal could bring her mother back.

Solana's fists tightened, disbelief flooding her.

Seeing her stay silent, Wilbert cast her a condescending glance, warning blazing in his eyes.

"You will go live right now and clarify that your mother was drunk driving. Say everything had nothing to do with Imogen."

"Or don't expect me to ever look at you again."

His tone held the self-importance of someone offering a divine favor.

"Impossible!"

She wiped her tears away, unwavering resolve blazing beneath them. "You want me to lie for her? I'd rather die."

Her reddened eyes made something inside Wilbert flinch, his fingertips curling involuntarily. But before he could process it, his assistant burst in, breathless.

"Mr. Patel! Miss Turner fainted again!"

Whatever hesitation he had instantly vanished. Chilling indifference swallowed his expression as he looked back at Solana.

"Bring the medicine. Force it down her."

Several bodyguards seized Solana by the arms. Someone grabbed a cup of unknown liquid and shoved it toward her mouth.

"Let go—hmph—!"

Pinned down and unable to fight, Solana could only watch as the liquid burned down her throat.

A searing heat exploded in her chest. Her vision blurred. A feverish wave rolled through her limbs until she could barely stay upright.

The moment her body reacted, Solana understood.

He had given her an aphrodisiac.

As her consciousness swayed, Wilbert gripped her chin, towering over her. "Do you admit you were wrong?"

Even trembling on the edge of collapse, Solana bit down on her lip and forced each word out.

"I... was... not... wrong..."

His patience snapped. Darkness churned in his eyes.

"Very well." His voice turned glacial as he clapped toward the doorway. "Let's see how long you can keep that mouth of yours."

Dozens of filthy vagrants flooded into the room, their eyes crawling over her like greed-soaked fingers.

"What a beauty... skin so soft and pale... You must taste amazing."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll make you feel real good."

As their faces closed in, Solana's heart lurched. She shrank back, trembling. "Get away... don't come near me... don't touch me..."

But the drug surged through her, tearing at her mind. Against her will, her fingers clawed at her own clothes. Painful little sounds slipped from her throat.

This should've been exactly the scene Wilbert wanted—yet something sharp and ugly twisted in his chest at the sight.

He fought the urge to stop everything. His gaze dropped to her like a cold verdict.

"As long as you go live and clear Imogen's name, I'll stop this immediately."

He paused, voice dropping into a threat. "Otherwise, once the drug fully kicks in, your little scandal with these vagrants will dominate every major headline by tomorrow. And your Scott family—well, you know very well what that would do to them."

Each word struck her heart like a hammer, sending pain ricocheting through her chest.

Solana dug her nails deep into her palm, her gaze locking onto him. Then suddenly—she laughed.

Tears spilled down her face, but her laughter was jagged, hysterical.

So this was the man she once loved enough to give up everything for.

So despicable. So vile.

To protect the woman who killed her mother, he would sacrifice her dignity—her entire family's name.

Her lips curled into a scathing smile as she wiped her tears away.

And while Wilbert turned—Solana used every shred of remaining strength.

She lunged and snatched the dagger from a bodyguard's belt—and plunged it straight into her own chest.

With a sharp crack, blood burst out instantly.

Solana's strength drained away and she collapsed to the floor, her complexion whiter than paper.

"Solana!"

Wilbert's pupils shrank violently—terror and panic flooding his eyes in a way she had never seen before.

He lunged forward, scooping her into his arms and sprinting for the door as though chased by death itself.

"Doctor! Save her! You must save her!"

Half-conscious, Solana heard his hoarse, broken voice above her.

She forced her eyes open, breath thin as silk.

"Wilbert... I, Solana Scott... never bow..."

And with that, darkness swallowed her.

...

When she woke again, the first thing she saw was Wilbert sitting beside her bed.

Dark shadows pooled beneath his eyes. He clearly hadn't slept in days.

But Solana felt nothing—no warmth, no relief. Only disgust at how fake it all seemed.

The moment he saw her awake, Wilbert shot to his feet, concern spilling from his expression.

"Does anything hurt? Are you feeling uncomfortable?" He reached out, wanting to check her wound.

Solana jerked her head away, avoiding his touch as if it were poison. "Don't touch me."

The ice in her eyes froze him mid-movement.

A flicker of panic crossed his face—quick, subtle, even he hadn't expected it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the ringing of his phone cut through the air.

"...Rest first. I'll take this outside."

The moment Wilbert stepped out—Imogen pushed the door open without hesitation, a triumphant glint blazing in her eyes.

"Solana, aren't you always so proud? So noble? Didn't you look down on us 'low-class people' all your life?"

Twisted hatred flashed in her gaze. She grabbed a thick stack of photos and flung them across Solana's face.

"Take a look at yourself. Even the cheapest streetwalker has more dignity than you."

The photos were taken from vicious angles—shots of Solana disheveled, drugged, seemingly throwing herself into the vagrants' arms.

Solana's expression darkened. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails nearly broke skin.

"What are you trying to do?"

Imogen's lips curled, venom dripping from every word.

"Oh? You haven't heard? These photos are everywhere now. The entire internet knows that the almighty Miss Scott—your glorious family's jewel—is actually an easy, filthy slut who even lets beggars touch her."

Solana's knuckles turned bone-white as she gripped the bedsheet, her gaze sharp enough to tear flesh.

"Imogen, I'll kill you."

"Oh? I'm shaking," Imogen mocked, fake fear covering her face.

The fear vanished instantly—replaced with savage jealousy and hatred.

"But will you really? Do you think Wilbert would let you lay a finger on me? He's always on my side. A few tears from me and he drops everything for my sake. And you? You're nothing but a pathetic, unloved joke."

Her voice dipped, twisting darker. "I might as well tell you the truth. I always knew it was your mother in that car. I did it on purpose because I wanted her dead."

Solana felt the world crack open.

"And you don't even know—she tried to call you for help. If I hadn't stabbed her a few more times myself, she might've held on long enough for you to see her alive."

A thunderous roar exploded through Solana's mind.

Rage—pure and absolute—flooded her veins.

Before Imogen could react—Solana grabbed the flower vase beside her and smashed it onto her head.

"I'll kill you!"

Crack!

Shards of porcelain and blood sprayed across the room.

Imogen howled, clutching her bleeding head.

Solana, eyes blazing red, yanked her by the hair and raised the vase again.

But Imogen suddenly laughed—low, poisonous.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? Wilbert knows about all of this. Every detail. And he said as long as I'm happy, I can do whatever I want. He'll clean up after me."

She leaned closer, whispering like a viper coiling around Solana's ear.

"Even those photos? He was the one who released them. And all the past scandals of you being with other men—who do you think helped spread them?"

Her smile widened, drenched in triumph.

"The one who wanted to destroy you... was Wilbert. Your beloved husband."

Imogen threw her head back, laughing wildly as she roared, "He did all of this to take revenge on the Patel family for forcing him to marry you! That marriage you treasured so much? It was nothing but a grand, meticulous act of vengeance!"

Every word was a blunt, poisoned blade, hacking mercilessly at Solana's already shredded heart.

It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. She stood rooted to the spot, frozen from the inside out.

So the villain had never been somewhere far away.

He had always been beside her.

Five years... For five years, he crushed her pride under his heel, breaking her spirit piece by piece.

And all of it... because she had taken the place that should've belonged to his beloved.

The door to the ward suddenly slammed open.

"Imogen!"

Wilbert burst in, shoving Solana harshly aside. She fell hard onto the cold floor as he rushed to scoop the bloodied Imogen into his arms. His entire body radiated a terrifying, icy rage.

"Solana, you've gone completely mad!"

"Wilbert, do you know?"

Solana pushed herself up, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"I've never regretted my actions. Not once. But today—"

She paused, a bitter, broken smile twisting her lips.

"Today, I suddenly do."

Her eyes burned red, her voice hoarse and splintering with despair.

"I regret marrying you without looking back. I regret the five years I spent lowering myself just to earn a shred of your attention. And I regret—more than anything—loving a worthless man like you for so long."

Each word pierced like a needle. Each sentence carved itself into bone.

Something slammed inside Wilbert's chest; a strange, suffocating ache surged through him.

His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he was about to speak. But Imogen tugged his sleeve, choking back tears.

"Wilbert... Miss Scott just has a strong temper... I'm used to it..."

The sight of her blood-soaked hair tightened his expression instantly. Whatever waver had flickered a moment ago vanished without a trace. His voice dropped to a glacial chill.

"Take her away, and discipline her properly."

"She'll return once she knows her mistakes."

The bodyguards approached. Solana stepped back, her jaw tight.

"Don't touch me. I can walk on my own."

The car drove out of the hospital, heading toward the Patel family estate.

But then—a sharp screech tore through the air.

Dozens of black cars shot forward from behind, surrounding the Patel family vehicle in seconds.

A man in a fitted suit stepped out, opening Solana's door with a respectful bow.

"Miss, I apologize for being late."

He handed her a stack of documents.

"The divorce agreement has been finalized. These are the prepared visa documents. Chairman Scott is waiting for you at home."

Solana took the folder. She looked toward the distant Patel residence.

'Goodbye, Wilbert.'

She heard her own voice echo it.

Then she stepped out of the Patel family car without hesitation and got into the one waiting for her. It drove off—away from the Patels, away from everything she once clung to.

Sunlight spilled through the window, warm and clean. For the first time in years, Solana felt light.

At the same time, a trending topic exploded across the entire internet.

[Solana Scott: I just lost my husband. Any gentlemen willing to marry into the Scott family, please line up at our doorstep.]

Attached was a scandalously bright red photo of her newly issued divorce certificate.

The internet went feral in under a minute.

But what nearly made the world's jaw drop—was a single reply under her post.

From Wilbert himself.