Seven years have passed since Margaret, my husband's ex-wife, orchestrated that explosion in downtown Oakwood. It left me a fool and crippled Larry's left hand. Ever since, I've been the burden he can't shake off.

Today, upon her release from prison, she returned to her wealthy family as the young mistress. At the welcome-back banquet in her honor, Margaret suddenly proposed a game of Truth or Dare. No one dared object. The bottle spun and spun before finally landing squarely on Larry.

Margaret smiled. "Larry, all these years, have you ever regretted saving this fool and ruining your life?"

After a long silence, he said calmly, "I have."

Her smile widened. "Then divorce her, Larry. Leave this fool and come back to me. My father's company will be yours."

Back in the basement, he slammed a bottle of poison in front of me. "Olivia, you said you didn't want a divorce. Drink this, and we'll stay married."

Terrified, I hesitantly reached for the bottle. "Okay!"

......

That day, an unfamiliar luxury car pulled up before our run-down building. The visitor was Larry's former comrade, now exuding condescension. "Larry, Ms. Margaret is hosting a banquet at Sky Peak," he said, glancing at me with undisguised disdain. "To settle your domestic affairs as well."

After a prolonged silence, Larry finally nodded. He dressed me in a faded, washed-out dress and led me from that sunless basement.

Sky Peak Club—Oakwood's most exclusive playground for the rich. Inside the private room, lights blazed, and the air was thick with perfume and the rustle of silk. Margaret sat at the head of the table in a custom-made gown, her makeup flawless—a world apart from the woman in prison uniform seven years ago.

Seeing us, she curled her lips into an amused smile. "Larry, you made it. And this is... oh, Olivia. Silly me, I almost forgot you still drag this little fool around."

A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the room.

Larry's body stiffened briefly. He shielded me behind him, his voice low. "Margaret, what exactly do you want?"

"Nothing much." Margaret picked up her wine glass, swirling the red liquid inside. "It's been seven years. Just catching up. I heard you're delivering takeout now? What a shame. Oakwood's youngest bomb disposal hero back in the day, and now you can't even lift your left hand."

Every word cut like a knife into Larry's pride. His face grew paler, and his grip on my hand tightened unconsciously.

"Let's play a game," Margaret suggested suddenly. "Truth or Dare. How about it?"

No one dared to object.

The bottle spun several times, landing squarely on Larry once more. Margaret smiled, her expression ripe with vindication. "Larry, choose truth. Tell me, over these seven years, have you ever regretted ruining your life to save this fool?"

All eyes were on Larry. I couldn't decipher the complexity in his gaze, only feeling the slight tremor in his hand as he held mine.

He was silent for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then, in a voice so calm it was almost cruel, he said, "I have."

Margaret’s smile widened. She rose and stepped toward Larry, reaching to touch his disabled left hand. “You see, Larry? You still love me. If you regret marrying her, then get a divorce. Leave that simpleton and come back to me. My father’s company—the whole Miller Group—will be yours.”

Divorce.

Even in my simple-minded state, the word struck a primal fear in me. I clutched desperately at the hem of Larry’s shirt, shaking my head with all my strength.

Larry didn’t look at me. He only shook off Margaret’s hand, his gaze turning to ice. “My life is none of your business.”

“Really?” The smile vanished from Margaret’s face, replaced by something cold and calculating. “Don’t be ungrateful, Larry. Do you honestly think you still have a choice? How much can you possibly earn delivering takeout each month? Enough for her medicine? Enough to buy back that old house your parents left you?”

Larry flinched, hard.

That house was his last link to his parents—a wound that had never closed.

“Just divorce her,” Margaret went on, her voice a lethal whisper, “and I’ll buy the house back for you right away. I’ll give you fifty million on top of that. Larry, don’t be a fool. What’s the point in dragging this out with her?”

The people around us joined in, their voices a low, ugly chorus. They called me a burden, a millstone around Larry’s neck, his bad luck charm—the ruin of all his prospects.

I couldn’t make out the words, but I read them on their lips, saw them in their scornful eyes.

Terrified, I hid behind Larry, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.

Larry never spoke. He just stood there, silently enduring it all.

The party ended in an ugly, strained silence.

On the way home, Larry walked ahead in furious quiet, his strides long and hurried. I couldn’t keep up, stumbled, and fell, scraping my knee. Blood seeped through the torn skin.

He stopped and turned to look at me. There was no concern in his eyes, only a thick, impenetrable frustration.

He yanked me to my feet and dragged me roughly back to that dim, damp basement room.

The door slammed shut behind us.

Rummaging in the corner, he pulled out a brown glass bottle and slammed it down on the floor between us.

“Drink it.” He pointed at the bottle, his eyes a terrifying red. “Olivia, you don’t want a divorce, right? Drink this, and we’ll stay together.”

A skull and crossbones was printed on the label. I couldn’t read, but I knew—instinctively—to fear it.

Poison.

I scrambled backward, shaking my head wildly.

“What, scared now?” Larry let out a cold laugh. Step by step, he advanced, backing me into the corner. “You love me so much, don’t you? Said you’d do anything for me. Isn’t that what you told me seven years ago?”

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Now all I’m asking is for you to drink this, and we’ll never be apart. Drink it!”

His grip was painfully tight.

I looked into his wild eyes, saw the despair and agony buried deep inside, and suddenly, my fear melted away.

Trembling, I reached for the bottle.

Just as my fingertips were about to touch the glass, Larry suddenly swept his arm out, knocking it to the floor.

Brown liquid splashed everywhere, filling the air with a sharp, acrid smell.

“You idiot!” He shoved me away, his voice cracking like a sob. “Who told you to actually drink it! You stupid—stupid fool!”

I crashed into the wall, my forehead blooming red on impact.

I stared at him, stunned.

He sank to the floor, crouched there like a child, and began pounding the concrete with his good left hand, his body shaking with silent, choked sobs.

Slowly, I crawled over and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

There’s a scar on my temple. Years ago, Larry got into a fight, and I stepped in front of a brick meant for him.

Back then, he’d held me just like this and cried.

He’d said, “Olivia, you’re so foolish.”

He’d said, “Olivia, I’ll protect you from now on.”

But now, the man who was supposed to protect me wanted me dead.

After that night, Larry retreated into deeper silence.

Three days later, he still took me to city hall. The blinding sunlight made it hard to keep my eyes open. Outside the county clerk’s office, people came and went, every face lit with a happy smile—only we were out of sync with all that joy.

“Well, well. Getting divorced, Larry?” Someone recognized him, tone thick with gleeful malice.

“Can you blame him? Who’d want to be stuck with a fool like her?”

“He was so impressive back in the day… what a shame.”

Whispers buzzed around us like gnats. Larry stood rigid, his back unyielding, but his white-knuckled grip betrayed the turmoil inside. Ignoring them all, he simply took my hand and walked straight in.

The process was quick. So quick I barely had time to think.

Only when the clerk handed over the two red divorce certificates did it hit me—Larry and I were really over.

I grabbed onto him, refusing to let go, tears dripping down my face. He pried my fingers away, one by one, without a trace of emotion.

“Olivia, be good,” he said, giving me one last, unreadable look. “Take care of yourself from now on.”

Then he turned and left without a backward glance.

I chased after him just in time to see him slide into a black Bentley. The window rolled down, and Margaret’s triumphant face flashed past before the car sped off, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.

I stood there, abandoned and utterly lost. The world had narrowed to this patch of concrete, and I had nowhere on it to belong.

A car pulled up beside me. A woman in a black trench coat and sunglasses stepped out—tall, slender, with an air of cool detachment. She walked over, removed her sunglasses, and revealed eyes that looked a little like mine.

“Olivia?” Her voice was soft.

I stared blankly.

She sighed, pulled a slip of paper from her bag, and pressed it into my palm. “I know you don’t understand right now. But remember this: if you’re ever in danger, call this number.”

After a long, searching look—as if she wanted to say more—she simply turned and left.

I clutched that slip of paper like a last lifeline.

For hours I wandered the streets, until night fell, when instinct finally led me back to the basement.

The door was unlocked.

Larry was there. He hadn’t turned on the lights, just sat alone in the dark, the ember of his cigarette glowing and fading between his fingers. Seeing me, he stubbed it out and stood.

“Come with me.”

I didn’t know where he was taking me. I just followed numbly.

The car sped along until it stopped in front of a brightly lit hillside villa. Margaret stood in the doorway to greet us, wearing a sleek silk nightgown. She linked her arm through Larry’s and gave me a taunting smile.

“Olivia, welcome to my home.”

That’s when I understood: Larry’s “come with me” hadn’t been a rescue. He’d just moved me from one hell to another.

“Larry, you must be tired. I drew you a bath,” Margaret cooed, sickly sweet.

But Larry calmly withdrew his arm and pointed at me. “Get her a room.”

Margaret’s face darkened. “Larry, what’s this? We had an agreement.”

“I said I wanted the house and the money,” Larry replied, his voice ice. “And I said she stays with me.”

“You!” Margaret was too furious to speak.

“Or the deal’s off.” With that, Larry headed upstairs.

Margaret watched him go, her eyes venomous. Then she turned to me, her gaze sharp as a poisoned blade.

“Olivia, you just can’t stay gone, can you?” she sneered, taking slow steps toward me. “But that’s fine. We’ve got plenty of time. We’ll… take it slow.”