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?"

As I witnessed this side of Francis that I had never seen before, I tucked away the pepper spray that I was holding.

All these years of struggling alone had taught me how to protect myself.

He had never protected me before, so there was no need for him to act like he cared all of a sudden.

I struggled to get on my feet. I wanted to leave, but my body wasn't feeling it.

I had barely moved a few steps when I collapsed at the door. As much as I tried, I couldn't move a single muscle.

"Sugar, I need sugar…"

Knowing I was suffering from hypoglycemia, I tried to reach for my bag. This was caused by a combination of malnourishment and anemia from selling my blood for cash.

I just needed a single candy, but Francis picked me up before I could do anything.

"I'll send you to the hospital."

I was put in the back seat, and there I sat silently.

Throughout our relationship, he never once sent me to the hospital personally. Even when I suffered a miscarriage, he merely dropped by to sign some paperwork.

In contrast, he would rush Whitney to the hospital even for the smallest issue.

I felt the soft leather seat of the supercar. For the first time in my life, I realized how comfortable it was to ride in a car.

In just ten minutes, we arrived at the hospital.

The lights were green the entire way, and thirty minutes had not even passed when we received my diagnosis.

I had no idea rich people had such privileges. Why did Francis waste five years of his life on me, just for a bet?

Those were five years of my precious life.

For so many years, I was toyed with like a dog.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and checked the balance on my card.

Everything added up to only $858.

After five years of misery, I couldn't even afford a single plane ticket.

All I had was a cheating boyfriend, an empty wallet, and a broken shell of a body.

Every single one of them was pushing me towards the abyss.

But I held back my tears because the man behind all this suffering was right next to me.

For the first time in years, Francis stayed next to my bed the entire night.

That was until his phone rang. Despite being someone who was irritable in the morning, his voice was surprisingly gentle when he answered the call.

"Be a good girl now, I have something urgent to deal with. Go back to sleep if you'd like, I'll buy your favorite soufflé on my way back."

Whitney seemed to be crying especially loudly today. It took Francis ten minutes of coaxing before she started to calm down.

Sure enough, as soon as he hung up, an anxious look appeared on Francis's face.

"Scarlett, I…"

"Go, I can handle this on my own."

Somehow, my straightforwardness caught him by surprise. He hesitated in front of my bed for a while before choosing to leave.

As I watched him go, I made a promise to myself.

This time, I won't be waiting for your return.

The earliest flight out of this city would cost me a thousand or more dollars.

I had no choice but to ask my parents for help.

While I had everything packed, I couldn't find my driver license.

I remember Francis wanted to apply for a credit card while he was in debt, so he took my driver license with him.

I had no choice but to call Francis.

It wasn't until the third call that he finally picked up the phone.

"Where are you?"

Francis was reluctant to answer me, but Whitney's voice came over the line.

"Ms. Lane, we're at the water park. Would you like to join us?"

After confirming their location, I took the subway over immediately.

The place was lively and everyone was in their swimwear. Being the only fully-dressed person there, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Francis enjoyed a portion of the pool to himself, which made him easy to spot.

I marched up to him and demanded, "I need my driver license back, Francis."

Before he could respond, his friends started making a fuss.

"Hey, isn't that Scarlett? Why don't you join us?"

Even Whitney, who was wearing a pink bikini, swam over.

"Care for a swim, Ms. Lane? You came all the way here after all," she said.

By no means was it a friendly invitation. I caught her winking at a nearby person after she finished her sentence.

Before I could react, I was pulled into the swimming pool.

While it was only four feet deep, for a person who couldn't swim, it might as well have been a bottomless abyss.

The farce was far from over. As I struggled to stay afloat, someone pulled off my clothes from under the surface.

Before I knew it, my entire body, including my surgical scars, was exposed to the world.

"Ah! What on earth is that?!"