Over time, our relationship deepened naturally and I began investing my own money into the company. Eventually, I acquired a 2% stake.

As the business grew, so did Barly’s wealth—and then he proposed. I accepted.

Three months before the wedding, he brought Aurel over from her hometown, saying it was to support her medical studies. To welcome her, he unilaterally decided to transfer my shares to her—without even discussing it with me.

That decision sparked our first major argument.

Looking back now, maybe that was the beginning of the cracks forming between us.

When I woke up, my face was damp with sweat and tears.

At some point, Barly had returned home. The sight of the suitcase I’d packed and left by the door infuriated him.

“What are you planning now?” he demanded. “Wasn’t the scene you caused at the company yesterday already enough? Now you’re stirring up more trouble?”

I splashed cold water on my face, then placed the spare front door key on the edge of the sink.

“I’m planning to move out for a while,” I said calmly. “Have you signed the divorce papers yet?”

“You seriously want a divorce?” His face darkened and his voice turned icy.

“All because of a fake medical report? I know it was fake. I don’t even care. I don’t look down on you.”

I didn’t answer.

It was absurd.

After eight years of being together, he didn’t even understand why I suddenly wanted a divorce.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“Did my mother call and say something to you? Just hold on a little longer. Aurel’s being evaluated for the ‘Most Beautiful Physician’ award right now. Once she wins, I’ll explain everything to the family for you.”

“No need.”

Once the divorce was finalized, I’d clear my name on my own.

If I really listened to him and waited like he asked, I’d probably end up hearing something like, “Let’s just forget it. People already believe it anyway.”

I knew Barly far too well.

My eyes drifted to the gift in his hand—a bottle of perfume from a niche foreign brand.

Barly let out a cold snort and tossed the gift at my feet.

“Aurel picked this out for you. She’s so much more thoughtful than you.”

I didn’t bend down to pick it up. Instead, I sneered.

That gesture? That gift?

He had the nerve to criticize me for lacking manners.

How ironic.

If I remembered correctly, this same perfume box appeared in one of Aurel’s instastory updates at the end of last month.

“Barly,” I said coolly, “you like to talk about manners. Have you ever seen someone give a sample as a gift? Have you ever seen someone throw a gift at another person’s feet?”

I casually used the umbrella by the door to lift the ribbon off the box, opened it and pulled out the tiny vial inside—0.2 milliliters.

“It’s already been used.”

Barly’s eyes flickered with guilt.

“The full-size version has a lighter scent,” he said quickly. “Aurel deals with patients all day, so a stronger fragrance wouldn’t be appropriate.”

I smiled.

I didn’t bother exposing his lie. I didn’t even open my phone to show him her old story post.

Before I left, I reminded him one last time.

“Just sign the papers already. Dragging it out any further is pointless.”

Almost as soon as I moved in with my best friend, Aurel posted a new story updates.

She even mentioned me by name—just to make sure I saw it.

[Why can’t good men ever find good women? If it were me, I wouldn’t let you struggle so hard between career and family.]

The photo she posted showed Barly, slightly tipsy, gazing blankly out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the city skyline.

For the next two weeks, her feed didn’t stop.

She gathered all the perfume samples from her apartment and gave them away to her coworkers and patients.

[Some people treat kindness like weeds. Others treat it like treasure.]

She and Barly had dinner together in his office, both of them wearing the newest Cartier couple's watches on their wrists.

[Everyone says we’re a perfect match and I’m getting so annoyed hearing it. If someone misunderstands, they’ll start causing trouble again.]

I stared at the photo carefully. The simple men’s ring that used to sit on Barly’s middle finger was now gone—only a faint indentation remained.

My best friend was so furious that she started cursing under her breath. She grabbed my phone and furiously typed out a long response.

[Who doesn’t know how to be sarcastic?]

Before she could hit send, I stopped her.

I was used to these kinds of story update posts. Ever since Aurel and I added each other, she had posted like clockwork—something small every three days, something dramatic every five.

“Do you think she’d dare mention me so openly?” I asked.

My best friend went pale.

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when my relationship with Barly had started to shift. But by the time I noticed, every argument between us was soon followed by a new post from Aurel.

Once I confirmed her suspicions, my best friend let loose again—cursing Barly’s ancestors all the way back through history.

After staying at her place for about a month, just as I was preparing to officially file for divorce, Barly called.

He sent me an address, along with just four words.

[Come over. Let’s talk.]

I thought he had finally come to his senses and agreed to the divorce. I grabbed my bag and drove straight to the location.

But instead of discussing our marriage, he’d summoned me… to attend a dinner party on Aurel’s behalf.

“These are all Aurel’s former patients,” he said, glancing at the four girls sitting in the private room. His voice carried a trace of disdain.

“They wanted to treat her to a meal, but she’s too busy and doesn’t want to offend them. Could you go in for her?”

I looked at him in disbelief, feeling like a complete fool for even showing up.

“Absolutely not.”

I shook off his hand and turned to leave.

“I’m filing for divorce. From now on, the only thing left between us is splitting up our assets.”

Panic flared in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Why are you always so harsh toward Aurel? What did she ever do to you? What about me? What have I done to deserve this from you?”

“Ever since you brought up divorce, you’ve either been cold or sarcastic. Now you won’t even sit down for a meal? Marina, why are you so damn stubborn? It’s just dinner. Eat a little, drink a little—it doesn’t cost you anything. I’ll wait for you outside and take you home afterward.”

“Is bringing up divorce all the time really that satisfying for you?”

“Let go!” I snapped.

He ignored my struggles and forcibly dragged me into the private room.

Before I could say a single word, he introduced me to the guests—on Aurel’s behalf—and then snatched my bag, turned on his heel and walked out.

He locked the door from the outside as he left.

Four women sat behind me, all staring with visible hostility. One of them, a small and delicate-looking girl, stood up and poured me a glass of wine.

“Dr. Grann,” she said, her voice dripping with resentment, “this glass is for you. Thank you for the medical report that made my fiancé dump me on our engagement day. I became the laughingstock of both our families. I still don’t have the courage to show my face in public.”

She downed the wine in one gulp.

The other three followed, rising to their feet and emptying their glasses just as swiftly.

A cold sweat crept down my spine. Something felt very wrong.

“I’m not Aurel,” I said quickly. “If you have something to say, wait until she gets here…”

Before I could finish, a sharp slap landed hard across my face.

It came from a tall, slim woman who’d been quietly standing in the corner. Her scream echoed through the room, shrill and hysterical.

“This is all your fault! If you hadn’t given me that gynecological exam report about 24 premature births, my boyfriend wouldn’t have dumped me so suddenly! I wouldn’t have been humiliated and forced to explain to my classmates and friends where the hell those 24 babies went!”

My head was still spinning from the first slap when the other two girls struck me again—this time, hard on both sides of my head.

“What kind of ‘most beautiful doctor’ are you, huh? On my very first date, you told my boyfriend I had moderate cervical erosion and a messy, immoral nightlife. He posted the diagnosis on the campus forum! Give me back my innocence, my reputation and my future!”

“What did I ever do to you? You told my husband I’d had more than two children and now he won’t even come home! Every time he opens his mouth, it’s about divorce—he says I cheated on him! I hate you!”

I was forced to the floor, pinned down by all four of them. They beat and kicked me while I covered my head, screaming in panic.

“I’m not Aurel! You’ve got the wrong person! She’s the one who treated you—don’t you even recognize her face?!”

They finally paused, but just when I thought I could breathe, one of them spoke again—and her words froze the blood in my veins.

“Hmph. When you treated us, you wore your mask so tightly that we could only see your eyes. Do you think we brought you here just to have dinner? Let me be clear: we’re not letting you walk out of this room until we’ve had our revenge. Not until I’m satisfied.”

Pain and fury surged inside me. I banged on the private room door, calling out to Barly for help, crying out again and again.

But there was no response.

By the time their anger had cooled, my entire body was covered in bloody scratches. Their fingernails had torn my skin and my clothes were ripped to shreds—barely covering my body.

Shaking, I grabbed a tablecloth, wrapped it around myself and stumbled to open the private room door.

The hallway outside was empty.

My body throbbed with pain. As I turned the corner, what I saw made my blood boil.

There stood Aurel, head bowed, crying softly. Barly stood beside her, gently comforting her.

“Barly… Do you think they’ll go to the hospital to report me after venting their anger? I didn’t mean to mess up those orders… I was just confused.”

“I know. I know it wasn’t your fault,” Barly replied, stroking her shoulder. “That’s why I asked Marina to help. After this, treat Marina to a nice meal sometime, okay? I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll pay off the people who got the wrong orders—they’ll leave soon.”

My chest heaved with rage, my head buzzing and my trembling fingers clenched so tightly I could barely keep from striking someone.

In that moment, something inside me snapped.

Forget a peaceful divorce. Forget saving face. Forget her dinner.

I stormed forward, catching them both completely off guard and slapped each of them across the face.

Two crisp, echoing slaps. Two bright red handprints.

Barly stared at me, stunned, eyes wide as they locked with my bloodshot glare. He was too shocked to speak.

Even Aurel, who had turned to bury her face in the sink and was crying while splashing cold water on her face, didn’t notice at first.

“Barly,” I said slowly, my voice shaking with rage.

“Get ready to start from zero again—with your precious little sweetheart.”

“This is the last time you’ll get to enjoy the perks of being Mr. Hudson.”