Her friends laughed, their voices echoing in the cold air. I reached for the coat to shield my body, but Serena was quicker, draping it over Isaiah with a tenderness that stung.

Isaiah, glancing at me, said, "I heard you gave him a lot of your blood recently, and he ended up in the hospital. What if he gets cold without a coat?"

"What does it have to do with me?" I replied, my voice tight. "I only feel sorry for Isaiah."

Isaiah placed a hand on her belly, and her laugh rang out, hollow and mocking.

Serena walked past me, Isaiah in tow. As they passed, she leaned in close and whispered a cold threat, "Don’t forget the marriage contract you signed in the Netherlands. Unless we both agree, you’ll never leave me."

The bitter wind whipped against my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill gnawing at my heart. She slammed the car door shut, sending a puff of gray smoke into the air.

Her friends, noticing the blue-black bruises on my lips from the cold, shouted at me. "Anthony, come on. You’ve tolerated Serena’s infidelities ten times already. What’s a little cold wind to you?"

"Serena’s already made it public. Now, the whole country knows your nickname—Green-haired Turtle."

I closed my eyes, blocking them out.

An hour earlier, I had been lying in a hospital bed, worried about Serena after her last miscarriage. She’d suffered severe bleeding, and I’d been forced to give her a blood transfusion, nearly losing my life in the process.

But now, my heart had been shattered in a way I never imagined. I had rushed out of the hospital, despite the nurse’s pleas, after hearing from Serena's friends, "Anthony, Serena’s been drinking all day, and no one can stop her."

I thought she was drowning her sorrows over the loss of our child. Instead, she was celebrating the pregnancy of the man she truly loved. The heavy bleeding she claimed was just a ploy to appease Isaiah.

One of her friends, unable to watch any longer, offered me a coat. "Sorry, Anthony," she said softly, her voice thick with regret. "We couldn’t do anything. Serena was willing to sacrifice everything to be with you. How has it come to this?"

Her eyes were filled with disappointment and sympathy, and I felt a wave of numbness wash over me. Of all the people who had pursued me, Serena had always been the one I wanted to stay farthest from. She was bold, persistent, and impulsive. Her love, intense and unwavering, was a double-edged sword. She had loved me completely, but one day, that love would be the weapon that destroyed me.

And that day had arrived.

It had been a car accident, smoke and flames enveloping the wreckage. She had rushed to the scene, desperate, her hands shaking as she tried to pull me out.

My legs were trapped under the mangled car, and the vehicle could explode at any moment. "You can’t save me," I told her, pushing her away. "Go now, or you’ll die with me."

But she refused to leave. "If I die, I’ll let my sisters bury us together. I’ll tell everyone I committed suicide with you."

I looked at her tear-streaked face, her makeup long gone, her hair a mess, surrounded by black smoke. A pang of softness struck my heart, and I shook my head. "Maybe sincerity is always changing," I muttered to myself.

I adjusted my clothes and began walking home, the night thick with winter’s bite. Faint headlights appeared ahead, illuminating the road as though they were guiding me, worried for me. My steps grew slower, more erratic, and soon my vision blurred. The cold darkness consumed me, and I collapsed into the snow.

When I woke up, the doctor was the first to speak.

"You lost so much blood and didn’t take care of yourself. You were found freezing in the snow. Do you realize you were on the brink of death when you were brought here?"

I closed my eyes, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

"Sorry..."

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing to us?" The doctor and nurses exchanged concerned looks. "You should be apologizing to yourself. You’ve pushed your body too far. If you don't take better care of yourself, you could lose your kidneys. It could even be fatal next time."

A sharp thought struck me. "Who brought me to the hospital?"

"Your wife. She cried for a long time when she dropped you off."

I froze, biting my lip to hold back the wave of emotions.

The door to my room opened, and the doctor added, "She's here now. Be more careful in the future. Don't take your health for granted."

I turned, expecting to see Serena, but my gaze locked onto someone I hadn’t seen in ten years: my stepsister, Gwen.

I felt a pang of embarrassment. "Gwen, it's been so long. What brought you back to Los Angeles?"

She wiped her red, swollen eyes and sighed. "I came for a multinational meeting. I didn’t expect to see you on the road to the winery."

I realized then that the car I had seen when I collapsed that night was hers.

She reached out, her hand warm as she gently placed it over mine. "Anthony, if you're tired, come back to me. Auntie’s gone, so you don't need to stay with a woman who doesn’t love you, just to avoid me."

I whispered, "I chose Serena because I love her."

Gwen sighed and placed a plane ticket on my bedside table. "Anthony, this ticket never expires. Whenever you're ready, just take it to the airport, and a private plane will bring you to me."

"You still remember my number, right? Call me anytime, and I’ll be there for you."

When she left, I gripped the ticket tightly for a moment before setting it down.

I opened my phone and bought the next available flight. Then, I called the place where Serena and I had signed our marriage contract.

"If you request a divorce unilaterally, we’ll strip you of all your assets, transfer everything to the woman, and you’ll face a one-year sentence. Think carefully."

I spoke quietly but firmly, "If it means I can get a divorce, I’m willing to do anything."

"Your divorce will be finalized in a week."

As soon as I checked my phone, I was bombarded with notifications—endless bills for hotels, nightclubs, and Smurfs that had been charged to my account.

Then, I saw a screenshot from one of my friends, showing Isaiah’s Instagram. From the night I collapsed in the snow until now, there had been over a dozen posts.

Serena had taken Isaiah on a vacation to an island.

In one photo, their little hands were overlapped, and the reflection in the window showed their blurred figures. Another showed Isaiah holding Serena’s hand as they cut a cake to announce the gender of their baby.

A comment from someone who knew us appeared: "Serena’s not even divorced yet, and here she is flaunting her relationship with the so-called ‘mistress.’"

Serena’s reply was cold: "Only the unloved are mistresses."

My heart twisted in agony, and a hollow smile crept across my face. Despair was the only thing left.

I checked out of the hospital, and while they were on vacation, I prepared to pack my things.

When I opened the door to my house, I was hit with the stifling air, and the floor was covered in Smurfs.

I trudged upstairs with a pale face, only to find that my master bedroom and studio had been completely transformed into a baby’s room. The walls were adorned with large maternity photos of Serena lying in Isaiah’s arms, her belly exposed. Their sweet smiles—those that had once been mine too—blurred my vision, filling me with a sickening sense of betrayal.

My belongings had been carelessly tossed into the garbage dump in the backyard, including our wedding photo. The one she had once placed so carefully on our bedside table, now lying discarded in a pile of dirt. The photo, my life, was now reduced to nothing.

I glanced at my scratched-up face, the marks and bruises, a cruel reminder of everything I had endured. Footprints from Serena's high heels marred the floor where our shared memories once stood.

I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the ache in my chest.

Forget it. There was nothing left to pack.

I grabbed my passport and some important documents, preparing to leave the place that had once been my home.

Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open, and there they were—Serena and Isaiah, both smiling as if they hadn’t just destroyed everything I held dear.

But when their eyes landed on me, their joy faltered.

Serena’s face twisted into an expression of hidden satisfaction, almost mocking. "Oh, aren’t you proud of yourself? I told you not to come back, and yet here you are. Did you see my honeymoon with Isaiah and feel jealous? Regretful?"

Her voice dripped with spite.

"It’s too late," she continued, her tone icy. "Even if you beg and cry, I won’t forgive you."

Isaiah, trying to force a smile, added, "Serena, this is your wedding room, after all. How can I come here? If your Anthony sees this, he might get angry again."

Serena shot me a sharp glance, her voice cutting like ice. "I’ve made myself clear. Even if I marry him, what does it matter? You’re the third party—the one who’s unloved. You’re not worthy of me having his child. Isn’t that right, Anthony?"

I was exhausted, my spirit crushed. I handed her the divorce agreement, my voice barely a whisper. "Sign this, and you can have everything you want—both in law and in your heart. You can be Isaiah’s wife."

Without a word, she let go of Isaiah’s hand and walked over to snatch the divorce papers from me. In an instant, she ripped them to shreds, the pieces falling like confetti, landing across my face.

I closed my eyes and listened to the venom in her voice as she gritted her teeth. "You want a divorce? You’re dreaming!"

"You’ve wasted years of my life, and now you think you can just walk away? No, Anthony. You’ll pay for this."

I let out a hollow laugh, my voice trembling. "As long as you sign the divorce, I’ll give you everything—every penny. I’ll leave with nothing."

Isaiah froze, his breath catching as he struggled to contain his excitement.

Serena grabbed my wrist, fury and disbelief flashing across her face.

"I don’t want your dirty money!" she spat. "Where do you think you're going? Gwen’s back, and you can’t stand being in this house anymore, can you?"

"What does Gwen have to do with this?" I couldn’t keep the frustration from spilling out. "Do I really have to sit here and watch you two parading around together?"

I glared at her, my words cutting. "Do you have some kind of sick need to make this public? Is it not enough that I’m already here, watching you two flaunt your happiness?"

Her breath hitched, but then a flash of realization crossed her face. She smiled knowingly.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, her voice laced with mock sweetness.

She let go of my wrist and walked over to Isaiah. "You know, every time I went out on a date with Isaiah, you always drove me there, remember?"

The memory struck me like a punch to the gut. I remembered how, after her miscarriage, I’d taken extra care to make sure she wasn’t overexerting herself, worrying about her health. I’d been naïve enough to believe I was protecting her, but it turned out I had been facilitating their affair.

"You knew all my needs," she continued, her voice a sickening whisper. "You knew when to pass me the Smurfs, when to hand me the wet wipes..."

I clenched my fists, the pain in my palms a reminder of how much I had suffered. "Don’t go too far," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

She sneered, her words dripping with venom. "I’m not the one who sleeps with one woman one minute and marries another the next."