Three years after Jerry lost his memory, Emily decided to die.

She had cancer. After swallowing 520 sleeping pills, she quietly turned on the gas in her apartment.

When she woke again, Jerry’s father and mother stood by her ICU bed, their expressions icy. “Put it out of your mind,” his mother said. “Even if you kill yourself ten thousand times, my son won’t spare you a second glance.”

His father added, “I advise you to sign the divorce papers sooner rather than later. Miss Judith is a Capital City socialite, a perfect match for our family. She’s carrying the heir to the Huo legacy—something a woman of your status could never compare to.”

The words pierced her heart like a needle.

Three years ago, Jerry had loved her to the bone.

He once drove nine hundred kilometers to the peak of a mountain just to pick her a rare alpine rose, all because she’d lingered on a photo of one for three seconds at an exhibition.

When her menstrual cramps were unbearable, he’d abandon multi-billion-dollar deals, rush out into a downpour to scour every pharmacy in the capital for pain relievers, then stay up all night brewing her a soothing tea—only to catch pneumonia himself from the fever it induced.

Later, when she wanted to go abroad as a doctor in a warzone, Jerry defied his family’s fierce opposition. For three days and nights, he faced the family council, willing to be disowned, just so he could join the special forces and follow her. When he appeared before her in that crisp, tailored uniform, she cried. He’d just kissed her forehead gently, holding her close, and whispered, “Don’t cry. It hurts me to see you like this.”

They married, got their license, and became the couple everyone in the special forces envied.

She thought their happiness would last forever.

But during their final rescue mission, she was taken hostage by rioters, her body strapped with explosives.

With fifty-two seconds left on the timer, Jerry shot himself without hesitation. Covered in blood, he offered to exchange himself for her, mouthing the words “I love you” soundlessly across the chaos.

An explosion. Life and death separated.

Every time she remembered that scene, even breathing was agony.

She guarded his empty grave, only to learn he wasn’t dead. The news that followed was worse: he’d lost his memory and fallen in love with Miss Judith.

For three years, he watched her heartbreak with cold indifference, pouring all his former tenderness into Judith. He loved Judith the way he once loved her.

She didn’t know if this was heaven’s mercy or its cruelty.

She had begged. She had suffered. She had tried to end it all. Over one thousand and ninety-five days and nights, she’d shed countless tears.

But Jerry never even looked up. At first, he was cold as a stranger. Later, his disgust for her grew, culminating in getting Judith pregnant.

Hurried footsteps sounded at the door.

Emily looked up to see a cold, aloof man walk in. He wore a black suit, the top button of his shirt undone to reveal a glimpse of his elegant collarbone.

Jerry gripped her chin, the force so great it brought tears to her eyes. His gaze was ice. “Was it you who turned on the gas? Do you have any idea Judith is pregnant?”

Her voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know Miss Judith would be at the villa.”

“Don’t play the victim with me,” he said coldly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Judith is the love of my life, my fiancée. I’m warning you—don’t get any ideas.”

The man who once loved her deeply now looked at her with nothing but distance and disdain.

Just three years ago, a single glance from her would make his ears turn red with shyness. Holding her hand made him sweat with nerves. Kissing her made his whole body tremble.

He had willingly walked to his death to save her. She had held onto the love in his eyes for three long years.

But now… those same eyes held only revulsion.

A cold numbness spread through Emily’s body. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, but not a single tear would fall.

She opened her mouth, her throat tight. “Jerry, let’s get a divorce.”

The air hung silent for a few seconds.

Jerry suddenly let out a cold laugh, a mocking curve lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to trick me into a divorce again, so you can drug my coffee? Emily, using the same trick twice? Aren’t you tired?”

“No, this time it’s real—”

“Enough,” Jerry cut her off impatiently. “Judith had a scare. I need to take care of her. I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

Watching his retreating back, Emily’s eyes stung.

The man who once loved her to the bone wouldn’t even spare her a moment of his time now.

Not long after they left, the duty nurse came to collect payment. “Miss Emily, here is your medical bill. The total is ten thousand.”

Emily glanced at her bank balance and felt a pang of bitter sorrow. “I can’t pay that all at once. Could I owe it? I’ll transfer the money tomorrow.”

The nurse hesitated but went to start the approval process.

Outside, the nurses’ whispers carried.

“Tsk, tsk. What’s the use of being pretty if you can just be tossed aside like that? Can’t even afford ten thousand for treatment.”

“I thought Mr. Jerry was crazy about her. Remember when those thugs harassed her? He’d just had surgery but went and got into a fight for her, came back with a dozen new stitches. Or when her boss framed her? He dropped deals worth hundreds of millions to back her up, almost turned the hospital upside down…”

Hearing those heart-wrenching words, she closed her eyes briefly, a light, self-mocking laugh escaping.

*Emily, stop being a fool.*

*Even if you end your life, who would care? He doesn’t love you anymore. Better to go somewhere no one knows you and enjoy whatever time you have left.*

She handled the discharge procedures alone, then took a taxi to the immigration office.

“Hello. I’d like to cancel all my domestic records and apply for emigration.”

Given how her pursuit of Jerry had once been the talk of the capital, the clerk clearly recognized her. She hesitated before speaking. “Are you sure? Once canceled, you’ll effectively cease to exist in the national system here.”

Emily took a deep breath. “I’m sure.”

From this day forward, she and Jerry would go their separate ways.

Who he married, who he spent his life with—none of it concerned her anymore.

Emily returned to the apartment they had once shared.

The landlord still recognized her, greeting her warmly. "Emily! No boyfriend with you this time?"

Her mind was a jumble. "He's planning a wedding," she murmured. "Getting married soon."

"I knew you two would make it down the aisle! The whole building's been waiting to celebrate," the landlord said, her face lighting up with a mix of envy and genuine delight. "I've kept the place for you. That cherry tree he planted has been bearing fruit for years now. The blossoms every spring—just beautiful."

The words settled like shards of glass in Emily's chest, a sharp, diffuse ache. She offered a vague reply and fumbled with the key.

Inside, everything remained exactly as they'd left it. On the shelf, a framed photo caught the light: she was beaming at the camera, while Jerry, in his military uniform, held her close, his chin resting on her shoulder as he gazed at her with utter devotion.

Memories flooded in, unstoppable.

The rose-patterned blanket he’d painstakingly crocheted for her—a burst of color that felt like holding a whole bouquet.

Her birthday at the pottery studio. He’d made an adorably lopsided rabbit mug, grinning as he said, "Now you’ll think of me every time you take a sip."

New Year’s Eve, the city sky alive with fireworks while they curled on the couch, playing Tower Defense games until dawn.

Their wedding day. He’d solemnly placed his epaulettes and service medals in her hands, then clasped her fingers as he vowed before the officiant, "Ten years, twenty years… when your hair is silver, I’ll still be right here beside you. I will love you forever."

She just hadn’t realized his "forever" would expire so soon.

Hadn’t realized these memories would end up trapping only her.

Her hands trembled slightly as she began clearing the space. Sentimental items went into the trash. Anything of value was listed for sale online.

She looked at the pale indentation on her ring finger. The Oppenheimer Blue Star Diamond. A one-of-a-kind piece, commissioned for ten billion from the world’s top designer—the ring he’d proposed with. She’d never taken it off, not even in the warzone, when death felt inches away.

The blue stone still glittered, cold and perfect. Everything else had changed.

A bitter smile touched her lips as she finally slid the ring off and placed it in its velvet box.

Staring at the half-empty suitcase, it hit her: apart from some clothes and daily necessities, she had nothing left.

*Ding.*

A notification chimed from her phone. A new post from Judith on her social feed.

**[So happy~ Picking out wedding dresses with my hubby!]**

The man in the photo had a cool, detached elegance. The pure black suit accentuated his tall, straight frame, and his deep-set eyes were captivating. Under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, he was focused on fastening the intricate back of Judith’s gown, his long fingers resting at her waist. His usually stern expression was softened, almost tender.

Emily found Jerry’s chat, still pinned to the top of her list. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. *You look good in a suit…* she typed, then deleted it. Finally, she settled on: **I’m leaving. I wish you both happiness.**

She hit send. The message immediately turned red, marked with an exclamation point. *Message delivered but blocked by recipient.*

She stared blankly for a moment, then turned off the screen.

As she approached the villa, Judith’s cheerful laughter carried from far away.

There she was, nestled against Jerry on the couch, a tablet in hand as they played some co-op game. Jerry was peeling grapes, feeding them to her with a natural ease.

Emily averted her eyes. "I’m back."

Jerry’s gaze flicked to the bare indentation on her ring finger. A slight frown creased his brow, but before he could speak, Judith wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him sweetly.

"Jerry, I haven’t had much appetite lately," she said, her voice a soft plea. "I heard Emily makes an amazing angelica and red date soup. Could she make some for me?"

Jerry’s eyes shifted coolly to Emily. "Making some tonic soup for Judith isn’t too much to ask, is it?"

An invisible fist closed around Emily’s heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.

The angelica and red date soup. Back when Jerry had lost his memory, she had consulted with a master herbalist, practicing for three grueling months just to perfect it. *Angelica*—the name itself meant "should return." It was her silent, desperate hope that he would return to her, that his memories would.

He had never taken a single sip. Every time, he’d poured it down the drain right in front of her, calling it disgusting.

And now he wanted her to make it for another woman.

No words came. She walked into the kitchen without responding, washed the angelica root and dates, added water and the other ingredients, and set it to simmer over a low flame.

An hour later, she carried the steaming pot into the living room, only to find Jerry’s parents had arrived.

His mother was holding Judith’s hand, her voice full of gentle concern. "If you feel any discomfort during the pregnancy, you must tell us. You’re the first daughter-in-law of the family now. We’ll make sure you want for nothing."

She was busily arranging an array of prenatal supplements she’d brought, along with piles of baby items—a crib, a high chair, bottles, tiny clothes…

"And this," she said, placing documents and a jade pendant in Judith’s hands, "is 30% of the family’s corporate shares, and our ancestral jade heirloom. It has been passed down from the first lady of the family for generations. It belongs to you now."

Power. Wealth. Love and blessing.

None of which Emily had ever received when she married Jerry.

She withdrew her gaze, her expression flat. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it did.

Emily carried the soup bowl over, but Mrs. Hunt’s sharp eyes caught the movement instantly. “What is this?”

Judith covered her mouth with a light laugh. “I heard Emily used to make that special medicinal broth for Jerry. I was curious what it tasted like, so I asked her to make me a bowl.”

“Don’t drink it!”

A violent force struck Emily’s wrist. The bowl overturned, and scalding liquid splashed across the back of her hand, raising angry red blisters almost instantly.

Mrs. Hunt’s face twisted with fury. “You little witch! How dare you try to poison my future daughter-in-law? Are you trying to end the Hunt family line?”

The searing pain in Emily’s hand was so intense her eyes stung. “I didn’t—”

With a cold sneer, Mrs. Hunt shoved her hard. “Don’t think I don’t know your scheming. Since you can’t have my Jerry, you’re targeting his bride!”

Emily fell, her lower back striking the sharp corner of a table. She curled inward, gasping.

“You have no shame,” Mr. Hunt said with a derisive snort, playing the stern patriarch. “Our family has already rejected you, yet you still cling to Jerry.”

“Let me be blunt,” he continued, his voice icy. “This is the Hunt family villa. It will be Jerry and Miss Judith’s marital home. How much longer are you going to play the cuckoo in our nest?”

Emily suddenly laughed.

Beside her, Jerry’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He had seen her cry. He had seen her rage. He had seen her in despair. But he had never seen her laugh like this—quiet, tinged with mockery.

“Fine. I’ll move out.”

She was leaving anyway. The Hunt villa meant nothing to her now.

As Emily turned to gather her things, Judith caught her arm. “Mom and Dad are just worried about me, so they overreacted. Don’t take it to heart. There’s a banquet tonight. You should come.”

“No, I—”

Emily began to refuse, but Jerry’s voice cut through, cold and abrupt. “If Judith wants you there, you go.”

His eyes were dark and utterly cold. It was an order, leaving no room for negotiation.

A faint, self-mocking smile touched her lips. “Fine. I’ll go.”

That evening, she arrived at the hotel.

Beneath an exquisite crystal chandelier, the floor was carpeted with vivid pink roses, each petal dusted with crushed diamonds that glittered under the lights.

“Mr. Hunt certainly spares no expense. Every diamond here is unique. A sea of pink roses this size must cost a fortune.”

“That’s nothing. He’s famously devoted. Rumor has it he hired a world-renowned philharmonic—the kind that commands eight-figure fees for a single performance—to play the entire evening.”

Under the dazzling lights, Judith stood in a black evening gown, elegant and regal.

Jerry, usually all sharp edges and cold efficiency, had softened. He knelt on one knee, gently sliding silver crystal heels onto her feet.

He gazed up at her, his eyes filled with tender affection.

Someone stepped forward, sighing with admiration. “You must be Mrs. Hunt. I’ve heard so much about the extraordinary way Mr. Hunt cherishes you. You truly are a perfect match!”

The person beside him nudged his elbow, whispering, “That’s Judith. *She* is the actual Mrs. Hunt.”

The man flushed. “Mr. Hunt didn’t even prepare a gown for his wife, yet he puts Judith in the spotlight. No wonder I was mistaken.”

Just as murmurs spread through the crowd, the massive screen at the front of the room changed—to a series of private photos of Judith.

The woman on the screen was nude. Across her pale, elegant shoulder blades was a dense spray of vivid marks.

The fiery red passion marks made a stark pattern against her porcelain skin.

The room erupted in gasps. Several men discreetly raised their phones to snap pictures.

Tears welled in Judith’s eyes. “Emily… I know you don’t like me. You can hit me, you can yell at me… but how could you… how could you do this…”

Her voice broke into a sob.

The guests began to murmur louder.

“How vicious! Judith is about to be married. Is this woman trying to destroy her?”

“She’s just jealous. She thinks this will make him change his mind? She’s delusional.”

Every scornful gaze in the room converged on Emily.

Jerry’s eyes, devoid of any warmth, locked onto her. His gaze was so cold it seemed to pierce straight through.

His voice was like frozen steel. “I warned you not to lay a finger on Judith.”

Emily’s throat tightened. “It wasn’t me. Check the security footage. I’ve been—”

*Slap!*

A sharp blow across her face cut off her words. Her cheek burned.

Jerry’s eyes were glacial. “Using such a despicable method… it’s disgusting.”

“You think humiliating Judith will make me look at you differently? Stop dreaming. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last woman on earth.”

Tears sprang to Emily’s eyes. “I told you, it wasn’t me!”

His expression turned colder. “Still denying it?”

Jerry had her forcibly taken to a hotel room. A dozen cameras were trained on her. He looked down from his height. “You like taking secret photos? Then let’s see how you like being the subject.”

*Riiip—*

Her clothes were torn open roughly, exposing soft, pale skin. Hands forced her into different positions, holding her down while the cameras flashed.

“Stop… Jerry, please, don’t do this…”

Emily struggled, pleading, but was met only with his cold, detached stare.

“Did you think about *her* having a day like this when you were photographing Judith? She is my wife. I swore I would never let her suffer.”

“Anyone who dares hurt my wife will pay a thousandfold.”

Her cries tore from her throat.

Jerry didn’t look back as he walked out. “Keep shooting. I want 999 photos. Not one less.”