Conned by Francis Slade, I sold my kidney to raise funds for his failed investment.

And the house was bought with all my savings. But now, it had become their love nest.

"Ms. Lane, you look like you were rolling around in a mud pit. What happened to you?" Whitney Jones smiled smugly.

My already injured body trembled with anger when I saw her smug expression.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I answered, "This is my home. What are you doing here?"

In response, Francis glared at me angrily.

"Whitney caught a cold, so I invited her over to take a hot shower. Can't you even tolerate such small acts of kindness?"

Whitney had accidentally stepped on blood that was flowing from my leg. She instinctively grabbed Francis out of fear. With a trembling voice, she told him, "Francis, I think she's injured."

I knew Francis thought I was just trying to gain his sympathy again.

"Alright now, Whitney will be sleeping in your room tonight. Once you're done with the act, go clean yourself up and set up a bed for her."

If she was after my room, she could have it.

If she was after the man who never loved me, she could have him.

My heart ached as I looked at the house that I had bought using all my savings.

Francis Slade had promised he would marry me after I bought it. I had emptied all my savings just to make the down payment.

But now, this house had become their love nest.

The loving voices coming from inside left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Holding my empty stomach, I wanted to confront them, but was hit by a wave of dizziness and collapsed onto the floor.

When I looked up again, I saw Francis standing over me with a frown and wrapped in a bath towel.

"Aren't you supposed to be working? What happened to you?"

He seemed upset, presumably because I interrupted his fun.

"I…"

"A-choo!"

Before I could speak, I was cut off by someone sneezing in the bathroom.

The displeasure on his face was instantly replaced by a concerned expression. He instantly turned around and went back into the bathroom.

I was left there with my mouth agape. As always, he couldn't even bother to hear my explanation.

My injuries were nothing in his eyes compared to the tiny sneeze from the woman in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he emerged with Whitney Jones in his arms while I was completely brushed aside.

It was Whitney who broke the silence. "Ms. Lane, you look like you were rolling around in a mud pit. What happened to you?"

My body trembled with anger when I saw her smug expression.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I answered, "This is my home. What are you doing here?"

In response, Francis glared at me angrily.

"Whitney caught a cold, so I invited her over to take a hot shower. Can't you even tolerate such small acts of kindness?"

Hearing this, Whitney made a sorry expression and got down from his arms.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lane. I'll leave now if that is your wish."

Right as she touched the ground, she squealed, "Ah, what's this?!"

She had accidentally stepped on blood that was flowing from my leg.

Whitney instinctively grabbed Francis out of fear. With a trembling voice, she told him, "Francis, I think she's injured. Why don't you send her to the hospital? Don't worry about me."

"It's fine, she's doing this on purpose to get my attention," he replied.

The moment he rolled his eyes, I knew Francis thought I was just trying to gain his sympathy again.

"Alright now, Whitney will be sleeping in your room tonight. Once you're done with the act, go clean yourself up and set up a bed for her."

My wound was still throbbing with pain, but in Francis' eyes, only Whitney mattered.

After thinking everything through, I replied calmly, "Alright."

Sensing I was unusually calm, Francis gave me a look of doubt. However, he was quickly distracted when Whitney called for him.

I watched as he left to check on her. This time, I made up my mind.

If she was after my room, she could have it.

If she was after the man who never loved me, she could have him.

I haven't had anything to eat the entire day. While making her bed, I felt dizzy again.

While moving around, I accidentally tore my wound open again.

The sudden jolt of pain made me sober up. I glanced down and saw fresh blood seeping out and staining my clothes.

I endured the pain while looking for our first aid kit. I had just started bandaging my wound when I heard Francis warning me, "Quiet down, will you? Whitney's fallen asleep."

That night, I slept on the sofa with my wound half-bandaged.

Just to fall asleep, I forced myself to swallow a mix of painkillers and sleeping pills.

Just as I was dozing off, I was woken up by Francis.

"Whitney's complaining that she's hungry. Go cook her some chicken soup. You know how to make it best, don't you?"

Of course. Francis had always faced stomach issues. I deliberately learned this recipe because it was easy on his stomach.

Resisting the pain, I got up to cook her some food.

Perhaps it was the pain or the sheer exhaustion, I accidentally placed my hand on the casserole while the soup was boiling inside.

I yelped in pain, which prompted Francis to stare coldly at me.

"You know, you don't have to keep using the same method to get my attention," he said.

My palm was burning, and I wanted to hold out, but my body had reached its limit.

I was hit by a wave of nausea, causing me to throw up. The bitterness from the bile and the piercing smell of the stomach acid resulted in a rancid stench that filled the room.

Whitney, who was watching from the side, cried out immediately, "Ugh, that's disgusting! I've lost my appetite."

"Francis, why don't we eat out tonight?"

"Alright Whitney, anything you like."

The pair walked past the mess and left the house while completely ignoring me.

I glanced up at the clock. It was already 3 in the morning.

It turned out that Francis was able to stay up late. To take it further, he was willing to stay up late to bring a girl out for some supper.

What he gave her was unconditional love. For me, all I felt was an empty void.

No one cared about the soup or the empty home.

Everything that I so desperately sought to protect, what was it all for?

I dragged my body into the study, to the corner where random items were kept. There, I found our only photo covered in dust.

The couple in the photo was smiling so brightly.

I wondered if our love was ever mutual at one point.

Gradually, it became clear to me who the child was in the photo on Francis' bedside table.

It was Whitney when she was a little girl.

I let out a bitter laugh as the photo frame slipped out of my hand and smashed into the floor.

As the glass shattered, so did my heart.

Blisters started appearing on my palm due to the burn from earlier. As I looked at my scarred hands, I wondered if I should cry or laugh at myself.

'Scarlett, you've wasted so many years on this man.'

For the first time in so many years, I entered Francis's room without his permission.

I walked straight to his bedside table and pulled open the drawer that he warned me not to open.

In the deepest part of the drawer, I discovered a number of luxury car keys. There was also a business card with Francis' photo on it. Printed on his card was the title, "Director of Yves Group."

I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. So this was what Francis had been hiding from me.

The debts and financial losses he spoke of were nothing but lies.

My legs crumpled as I fell to the ground.

No wonder he insisted on hiring a secretary despite facing a financial crisis. No wonder he was able to afford business dinners every night while his working capital was running out.

Only I had taken him seriously and worked so hard to make money for him.

The thousands of dollars I scrounged up for him every month must've felt like pocket change to a boss who was worth over $100 million.

A cold laughter echoed through the empty house.

It must've felt humiliating for him to stay in this house that I bought with my blood, sweat and tears.

I sat on the floor in a daze until they returned.

Francis bought some takeout soup for me.

"It's pretty late, here have something light to eat."

Under the faint lighting, I observed the layer of grease on the surface of the soup.

Instead of accepting it, I calmly responded with a question.

"Aren't you still in debt?"

This seemed to catch him off guard.

"I'm almost done paying it off. Why bring this up so suddenly?"

For a moment, he displayed a nervous look instead of his usual cold and stoic expression.

He was about to explain before he was interrupted by Whitney's voice.

"Ms. Lane, why are there children's toys in your cabinet? Hold on, you gave me the same thing too, didn't you, Francis?"

Her words hit me like a bolt from the blue. Once again, it made my calm heart palpitate.

Francis had bought the toys for our unborn child a year ago.

He lied to me that his investment tanked and was in desperate need of capital. That time, just to make fast money, I gave up my stable job to go dancing and serving drinks in bars.

My body wasn't able to cope with the strain, and I ended up losing the child.

So Francis's affair with Whitney started from there?

"Scarlett, about the toys…"

"Enough, I'm tired."

For the first time, Francis wanted to apologize to me, but I knew it was pointless.

"I have something to do, I need to go out."

Francis did nothing to stop me. Again, it was because Whitney had made a request.

"Francis, can you help me get my underwear? I need to change."

Francis had barely reached out to me when he pulled back his arm and slammed the door shut behind me.

Maybe I should leave for good.

I clutched the bank card in the pocket of my coat and caught a taxi to the bar.

I wanted to withdraw all my wages for the month.

Despite the time, the parking lot at the bar was filled with expensive cars. This bar was a popular hangout spot for rich kids who loved to party all night.

I adjusted my coat and entered the bar.

A familiar voice from one of the private rooms caught my attention.

"It's boring without Frank here with us!"

That voice belonged to his buddy, Charles Langley.

"Frank must be spending the night with his girlfriend tonight. You know how clingy Whitney is."

I had no interest in the rest of their conversation until I heard my own name being mentioned.

"Hahaha, do you remember when that poor Scarlett started working here? I wonder how she'd feel if she knew the wine she served was for Frank and Whitney."

"Careful man, didn't he warn us not to talk about this in public?"

However, they started to get more excited as the conversation went on.

"Still, I think Frank's head over heels for Whitney. A few days ago, she asked if she could borrow a few of my men. I didn't expect she'd use them to beat up Scarlett. I was scared that Frank would get angry at me, but turns out he was more worried about Whitney."

So Francis had known about her plan all along? Even so, he stood on her side unwaveringly.

Who was I to him? A jester to laugh at?

The scene of me being attacked and insulted by those men kept repeating in my mind. My head hurt so much it felt like it was about to explode.

"Speaking of which, didn't he win our bet? Like he said, Scarlett's still unaware of his identity and even fell for him. Why are they still together? Don't tell me he really fell in love with her?"

A bet?

Those words hit me like an eighteen-wheeler truck. I cupped my hands tightly over my mouth as I instinctively tried to move away.

As I turned around, I knocked into a man's chest.

The familiar smell of his perfume already told me who that man was.

"What are you saying?!" Francis's voice boomed.

In an instant, the room went silent. It was the first time he hugged me on his own accord.

I slapped my hurting head a few times and wriggled out of his arms.

"Scarlett, it's not what you think."

I couldn't care less. I was on the brink of mental collapse, and I had to complete my task before my emotions got out of control.

I forced myself to head towards the office. At the door, I was greeted by a stranger's face.

"May I help you, miss?"

I came face-to-face with a man with a potbelly and a gaze that belonged to a sly fox.

"I need to get my salary in advance this month."

"Our policy doesn't allow employees to do that."

As he spoke, he had already placed his arm around my waist.

"I have an employment contract, you can look…"

The man couldn't care less what I said. His greasy face inched nearer to mine when he said, "Why don't you service me for a night? If you make me happy, I'll double the amount for you."

In the next second, Francis rushed over and knocked him to the ground with a single punch.

"How dare you touch my woman?"