On our fourth wedding anniversary, I waited at home in vain.

Ethan set off fireworks across the entire city for his first love.

I was burned by the sparks and ended up in the hospital.

Seeing my blackened wounds, he shielded his first love from the doorway and said coldly, "Don't look. It's disgusting."

After returning home, I found lace lingerie in the washing machine on the balcony.

I calmly took it out, folded it, and placed it on the living room table.

Closing the lid, I booked a flight to London.

: Betrayal

I had just finished paying for my order when Ethan Carter walked in from the outdoor balcony.

He used to never smoke, but now he'd spend half an hour outside with his cigarettes.

Seeing the London flight booking page on my phone, Ethan chuckled softly. "What, planning a vacation?"

I replied calmly, "Yeah, that's right."

He didn't respond, just turned and sat on the couch to check his messages.

He picked up the herbal tea I brewed for him every night—something for his tired eyes from staring at screens all day. After taking a sip, he asked, "When did you learn to make tea?"

I didn't look up, casually saying, "Last week."

But I'd been brewing this tea for him for four years.

He lit another cigarette, exhaling smoke rings.

I instinctively shifted my chair away—having just been burned, I was terrified of fire and smoke.

Hearing the movement, he glanced at me. "I checked with the doctor. Your injuries aren't serious. You don't need me to drive you to work tomorrow, right?"

In the past, I would have thrown a fit and started a huge argument with him.

Now I just scrolled my mouse and replied nonchalantly. "Yeah, no need to trouble you."

Today, the doctor said the leg injury could be fixed with skin grafts.

But I could never undergo fertility treatments again.

I looked down at my stomach, covered in needle marks from hormone injections, with an ugly scar running across it.

Ethan refused to be intimate with me, yet his mother pressured me to give her grandchildren.

Despite all those fertility shots, I still hadn't gotten pregnant.

Seeing me with my head down, Ethan frowned and was about to come over when his phone rang.

It was his first love, Sophia Miller, her voice sweet and soft. "Come over, Ethan. It's my birthday today."

He smiled gently, turned to grab his coat, leaving behind just one sentence. "I won't be coming home tonight."

The next morning, I was woken by the phone ringing.

Ethan's commanding tone came through, "You have ten minutes. Get downstairs. I'll drive you to work."

I hurried as fast as I could, hobbling on my crutch to his car.

When I opened the passenger door, I was greeted by Sophia's sweet smile, "Oh, you opened the wrong door."

"Sorry." I backed away and got into the back seat.

Ethan drove through various detours, finally stopping in front of a burger shop.

He said to Sophia like he was showing off, "Here's that burger place you've been wanting to try."

I smiled bitterly.

So it was all for her craving. Driving me was just convenient.

They were gone for ages.

The car was warm in the winter air.

In the sealed car, oxygen grew thin. My vision blurred as I nearly passed out.

Finally, the car door opened, a gust of cold air rushed in, and I gasped desperately for breath.

Before me, as soon as Ethan settled into his seat, Sophia eagerly held up a loaded burger, "My favorite! You have to try one."

As she spoke, she leaned forward, deliberately showing off her cleavage.

Ethan bit into it, sauce spilling out, and he laughed, saying, "So juicy."

When the car stopped at the underground parking garage, they swiped their cards and entered the elevator together.

Ethan coldly dismissed me, "Don't follow us up. Don't want people in the office talking."

With that, the elevator doors closed.

My access card only worked up to the 99th floor, but my desk was on the 100th floor, right next to his office.

I'd once shamelessly begged him for higher clearance, but he only said, "Executive floor access isn't available to regular employees."

Yet as soon as his first love returned from studying abroad, he couldn't wait to bring her to his side, arranging her workstation right inside his private office.

: Desolation

The elevator doors opened on the 99th floor. I hobbled on my crutch, step by step toward the emergency stairwell.

The wound on my foot hadn't healed yet, and my heels were rubbing it raw again.

My phone buzzed with a message about Ethan and his guest attending a business association event on the first floor.

I was about to get up to notify him when Ethan appeared before me, grasping my ankle. "Just wear flat sneakers next time."

He pulled out a pair of flats and helped me change into them. "From now on, you don't need to accompany me to corporate events anymore."

At the same time, Sophia opened the office door and emerged in an elegant dress.

She walked to Ethan's side.

Ethan stood and took her delicate hand. "You're not really suitable for these occasions. Sophia will take your place."

I didn't react, just murmured a quiet "oh."

Ethan frowned slightly. "Don't you want to ask why?"

I gritted my teeth. "Mr. Carter, I still have business partnerships to handle, and they're waiting for you downstairs. There's no need to waste time here with me."

He smiled faintly. "Mr. Carter? How formal of you."

He was about to say more when Sophia pouted at him. "Come on, if we don't leave soon, I'll get tired from standing."

He turned to comfort her. "Alright, alright. Can't have my Sophia getting tired."

With that, they quickly left.

That evening, Ethan returned from downstairs looking exhausted, tossing a red coat at me. "It's getting cold. I saw this at the boutique downstairs—the material looked decent."

My expression darkened. "Ethan, we've been married four years. Don't you know I never wear bright colors like this?"

He slammed his office door shut. "Wear it or don't. I don't care."

Opening social media, I saw Sophia's post showing off a dozen shopping bags around her: "Someone who knows I get cold bought me over ten coats!"

When I got home after work, I washed some black lingerie and left it in a bag on the table.

Ethan came home carrying the bag and opened my bedroom door. "What, are you jealous?"

I kept my eyes fixed on the spreadsheet in front of me. "Just reminding you not to forget your things next time."

I stood up and walked past him. "Mr. Carter seems to be in good spirits, but you should still consider the Carter family's reputation."

"At least on the surface, I'm still Mr. Carter's legal wife. It's best not to cross that line."

He laughed coldly. "Claire Spencer, mind your own business."

I added, "I don't mind if Mr. Carter keeps a mistress, but your mother might feel differently."

Ethan feared nothing except his mother, who was living it up abroad. And she cared most about the family's reputation.

His expression changed.

The phone rang—it was his mother, Mrs. Rachel Carter.

She gave him a thorough scolding.

After hanging up, he confronted me. "Did you tattle on me? How would my mother know what's happening here when she's overseas?"

"Your mother forces the family doctor to give me fertility shots every month, making my life miserable. I never contact her voluntarily."

His expression softened slightly. "My mother was wrong to do that to you."

Then he added curtly, "But stay out of everything else."

Thunder rumbled outside, making me shudder involuntarily.

Ever since being burned by fireworks, I'd become terrified of loud sounds.

Ethan's eyes flickered, and he was about to reach out to hold me.

A text notification chimed with Sophia's sweet voice: "Ethan, I'm scared of the dark. Come keep me company."

He grabbed his jacket and walked away.

Thunder crashed all night, keeping me awake. I was about to call in sick when a colleague called, "Claire, there's a problem with your business deal. Mr. Carter is furious."

: Corporate Conflict

I rushed to the company conference room, where everyone sat waiting—Ethan, Sophia, and the other colleagues.

As soon as I walked in, my coworkers shot me resentful looks.

I smiled awkwardly and opened the case file, only to discover it was the project Sophia had taken over from me.

The moment Ethan saw me, he erupted. "Do you realize your mistake cost the company ten times the normal commission?"

Sophia chimed in smugly, "Exactly. If you can't handle the work, don't take it on. Now we all have to suffer because of you."

I spoke up, "I apologize for any trouble, but I wasn't responsible for this project."

Ethan pointed to the name on the contract, "Your signature is right here as project lead."

I flipped to the final page of the contract, "According to company policy, the signatory on the last page is the final responsible party."

I projected the signature onto the computer screen, where it clearly read: Sophia Miller.

All eyes turned to Sophia. Her face went deathly pale.

It was obvious—Sophia had seized my nearly completed project to impress Ethan, but the client had exploited her inexperience and trapped her in a bad deal.

She started sniffling, tears welling up in her eyes.

Ethan's heart immediately melted, and he pulled her into his arms right in front of everyone.

As the meeting ended, Ethan announced, "This month, the business department's salaries will be reduced by ten percent to cover the company's losses. Especially Claire—her year-end bonus and the next three months' salary will be docked."

Half a month later, when paychecks arrived, everyone was grumbling.

Meanwhile, Sophia was named "Performance Star" by Ethan and received a fifty percent salary bonus.

Sophia smiled graciously, "I owe today's success to everyone's support. I hope you'll continue backing me."

After she finished speaking, the room fell silent.

Feeling the awkwardness, she left.

I noted down everyone's bank account numbers and used my savings to compensate each person for their docked wages.

I looked around the room, "Working with all of you these years to build this company has been my privilege.

"It's just unfortunate that it will never bear my name."

My colleagues understood what I was implying and felt indignant on my behalf.

I sat down and printed out my resignation letter.

My flight was approaching—I needed to finalize my departure quickly.

I walked into the office to find Sophia sitting on Ethan's lap, feeding him orange segments mouth-to-mouth.

Seeing me, Sophia jumped up in panic, about to scold me before changing her tone, "Ethan, your secretary startled me."

Ethan pointed to the chair in front of him. I understood and laid out the documents.

I handed him the pen and pointed to the signature line, "Sign here."

He was busy flirting with Sophia, barely glancing as he took the pen and signed where I indicated.

I closed the folder and said, "I'll be going then."

Ethan murmured his acknowledgment.

I bowed my head and left the office.

After finishing the handover, it was already late at night.

I returned home to pack my luggage just as Ethan stumbled in drunk.

I prepared hangover tea and helped him drink it before trying to go to bed.

But he got up and tried to be intimate.

Now that I was leaving, he was suddenly interested.

He turned his head and vomited everywhere.

I hated the smell of alcohol.

I got up and went to the study to sleep.

The next morning, Ethan was nowhere to be found.

He called me, with loud club music in the background.

He commanded, "There's a major business conference coming to City Andes this week. You must help me secure their contract."

Seven years ago, when the law firm where I worked caught fire, Ethan had saved me.

I thought for a moment—this would be the last time I repaid that life debt.

I dressed up and contacted the clients.

At the hotel, the client was a middle-aged man.

Our company wasn't the only one present—other local competitors were there too.

The client set the rules after sizing us all up, “Whoever drinks the most wins the contract."

Seeing I was the only woman, they all laughingly suggested I drop out of the competition.

I picked up a bottle of high-proof brandy and downed six bottles straight.

They were all stunned.

After signing the contract, I endured excruciating stomach pain and went to the hospital for gastric lavage.

The doctor looked at me with pity, "Child, don't push yourself so hard. Keep this up and you'll need your stomach removed."

I smiled bitterly.

I used to never drink. But I'd built this company one sip at a time.

Ethan, I don't owe you anything anymore.

As soon as the contract reached the company, Ethan wanted to throw a celebration party.

I didn't want to attend, but my colleagues—knowing it was my achievement—messaged me to come.

Ethan texted me to bring wine, the kind that gives a light buzz.

At the celebration, Ethan handed the wine to Sophia.

Sophia took a small sip and her cheeks flushed, “Ethan, I think I'm drunk."

She pretended to stumble, and Ethan anxiously caught her, glaring at me, "Didn't I tell you to buy low-alcohol wine? What are you trying to do with this stuff?"

I laughed coldly, pointing to the label. "This is just an alcoholic beverage. There's barely any alcohol content."

Sophia looked displeased, "It's okay, don't blame Claire. I was just so excited, I forgot I'm allergic to alcohol."

Ethan was about to scold me when he noticed my pale complexion, and a concerned question slipped out, "Those clients didn't give you too hard a time, did they?"

I pointed to the bottles on the table, "Just six bottles of brandy."

Ethan's expression turned pained.

Seeing this, Sophia dramatically exclaimed, "Oh my, I'm going to faint!"

Ethan quickly supported her and took her upstairs to rest.

Before leaving, he instructed me, "Take Sophia's coat home to wash and bring it back tomorrow."

The other colleagues exchanged glances.

Knowing I was leaving, they wanted to persuade me to stay.

I just smiled gently, "We'll meet again somewhere down the road. Goodbye, everyone."

Then I picked up my luggage by the door and headed to catch tonight's flight.

No one knew that my parents, whom I'd never mentioned, actually lived in London.

Ethan, the only one who knew, thought I was just going on vacation.

My parents welcomed me home and brought me back to their house.

After resting briefly, I drafted a legal complaint.

Defendant: Ethan Carter.