Ryland did not return home that night.

I did not sleep a wink.

The next morning, the doorbell rang abruptly.

I went to open the door, and standing outside was Ryland's mother, my mother-in-law, Victoria Payne.

She wore a perfectly tailored Chanel suit, her hair combed without a strand out of place, her face bearing its usual arrogance and detachment.

Behind her followed a middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and a briefcase in hand, the Payne family's personal attorney, Harlan Brooks.

She brushed past me and strode straight into the living room, her critical gaze sweeping the room before settling on me, a mocking smile curling her lips. "Elena, where are your manners? I show up, and you cannot even pour me a cup of coffee?"

I did not move, just closed the door and gazed at her calmly.

My silence seemed to enrage her.

She slammed her platinum handbag onto the sofa with a thud. "You dare give me attitude! If not for you, this harbinger of doom, Theo would never have died! What sin did the Payne family commit to let a woman like you marry into the family! You caused my grandson's death, and now you are not satisfied, trying to blackmail Ryland with divorce, tarnishing the Payne name, tanking the group's stock price! Elena, what is your heart made of? Stone?"

I looked at her face, twisted in fury, and suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

She paused deliberately, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "Look at you now, like a ghost, all pallid and lifeless, what man could stand it! Ryland worried about you endlessly, and what did you give him in return? Endless trouble! You should learn from Jolie! At least she was gentle and sensible, knew her place, knew how to soothe a man, instead of you, always losing your mind, pushing Ryland further away! Back then, Jolie's husband died saving Ryland, leaving behind a pitiful mother and son, and you, as Ryland's wife, showed no gratitude, even tried to harm her multiple times, I think you lost your mind!"

Jolie Hayes.

Jolie Hayes again.

In all their eyes, because Jolie's late husband saved Ryland Payne, I owed her servitude, even my own husband.

As for Theo's death, I never believed that car crash two years ago was an accident, it absolutely involved that woman.

Because only with my son's death could her son take his place!

I let Victoria vent, never uttering a single word from start to finish.

That reaction left her punching air, her face shifting from red to ashen.

Finally, she impatiently signaled to the lawyer behind her.

Harlan understood and stepped forward, placing a document on the coffee table in front of me. "Mrs. Payne, this is Mrs. Victoria Payne's directive. If you insist on divorce, the Payne family will use every means to ensure you leave with nothing. Additionally, regarding the details of your son's car accident two years ago, we will 'reorganize' them to make sure all media and the public believe it was you who personally killed your own son. By then, you will have nothing and bear a stain you can never wash away."

A blatant threat.

I lowered my eyes and looked at the document, like a verdict prepared for me long ago.

The entire Payne family, from top to bottom, had no one on my side.

In their eyes, I was never Ryland's wife, never Theo's mother, just an accessory to sacrifice and discard at will.

"Did you get that?" Victoria saw my prolonged silence and urged impatiently, "Put away those improper thoughts, stay in line as Ryland's wife. Otherwise, face the consequences!"

With that, she grabbed her bag, clicked away in her high heels, and left with the lawyer.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

The world fell quiet once more.

I slowly crouched down, reached out, and let my fingertips brush the cold marble floor.

Did the Payne family think this would scare me?

I slowly stood up, walked to the table, ignored that threatening document, and picked up my phone instead.

Theo's gravesite lay in the outskirts at Willowbrook Cemetery, serene and solemn.

I held a bouquet of his favorite white lisianthus and climbed the stone steps one by one.

In the vast cemetery, only my footsteps echoed. "Theo, Mommy came to see you."

I crouched down and gently set the bouquet aside, just as I prepared to share some words from my heart, an untimely voice drifted from nearby. "Ms. Andrews, Ryland worried you might feel too lonely alone, so he sent me to keep you company, he was concerned about you."

My body stiffened, and I turned back slowly.

Jolie stood just a few meters away, dressed in a simple white maxi dress, her face twisted into an eerie smile.

Beside her, she held her son's hand, Max, who eyed me with open curiosity.

Her gaze landed on the lisianthus I had brought, and she covered her mouth in feigned surprise. "Oh, what a coincidence, Theo loved the lisianthus I gave him too."

She drew out the name of the flower slowly on purpose, her tone laced with unmistakable bragging.

I looked at her hypocritical face and felt a wave of nausea.

Jolie seemed pleased with my reaction, and she raised her hand, as if by accident, to touch the necklace around her neck.

The necklace held a delicate small pure gold longevity locket, with the character for "Theo" engraved on the plate.

My breath caught abruptly.

How dared she!

After I had made such a huge scene, she still dared to wear Theo's longevity locket and flaunt it right in front of me!

On the day of the crash, it had hung around Theo's neck, but later, it went missing at the hospital.

I searched like a madwoman until Ryland said it must have been lost by the cleanup crew, and only then did I give up the hunt.

Ryland made such a fine father, using his own son's keepsake to please his lover.

Jolie's fingers traced the "Theo" name lightly, and she leaned down to whisper in my ear, her voice so low only we two could hear. "Ryland said Theo adored me the most in life, and he surely would have wanted me to wear this, to feel the world for him, to feel his love for you in your place."

A sharp crack rang out.

I swung with all my strength and slapped her hard across the face.

My palm burned with stinging pain, but the ache in my heart hurt a million times more.

Five clear finger marks bloomed instantly on Jolie's face, and she stared at me in disbelief, her eyes welling up fast, tears spilling like beads from a broken string.

"Mommy!" Her son charged at me like a little animal right away and pounded my legs with all his might, "You bad woman! You are not allowed to hit my mommy! Ryland said Mommy is very important to him!"

At that moment, a harsh screech of brakes shattered the cemetery's peace.

A black Bentley sped in and halted nearby.

The door flew open, and Ryland's tall figure leaped from the car.

"Elena!" A low roar laced with fury.

The next second, a massive force shoved me hard.

I staggered back unprepared, my back slamming into Theo's tombstone.

The hard edge sliced my arm open at once, carving a long gash.

A piercing pain spread from my arm.

Ryland did not spare me a glance and rushed straight to Jolie, pulling her and the frightened Max into his arms.

When he looked down and saw the clear handprint, he turned back to me with eyes that seemed ready to tear me apart. "Elena, have you lost your mind! You would not even spare a child? Even at Theo's grave, you had to stir up trouble and disturb his peace!"

Every word from him struck my heart like a heavy hammer.

I watched his protective stance over that mother and son, and suddenly it all felt utterly ridiculous.

He had no idea what happened, nor did he care to know.

In his eyes, I was just the hysterical lunatic.

I braced against the tombstone behind me and slowly straightened up, blood from my arm dripping down my fingertips.

Ryland eyed my bleeding arm, and the arm holding Jolie tightened, a flicker of regret crossing his eyes before anger swallowed it whole.

He looked at me, each word deliberate, his tone carrying some inexplicable anguish. "Do you have any idea what you look like right now, how long will you keep this up before you snap out of it!"

Ryland scooped up Jolie and the boy and drove off in the black Bentley.

I offered no explanation, shed no tears.

I just leaned against Theo's cold tombstone and numbly watched the three of them disappear into the distance.

That night, I thought Ryland would not come back.

But in the dead of midnight, he returned, carrying a heavy stench of alcohol.

I sat on the living room sofa and tended to the gash on my arm with a cotton swab and iodine.

He stumbled in, and when his gaze fell on the shocking blood mark on my arm, his whole body froze.

He reached out, as if to touch my wound, but his fingertips trembled and pulled back just an inch from my skin.

"Why... why did it have to be Theo..." He gripped my shoulders with a force that nearly crushed my bones.

In his eyes, I saw a vulnerability I had never witnessed before, tears blurring his vision uncontrollably.

The next second, his tall frame collapsed forward, and he buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice choked beyond recognition. "Elena, I'm sorry... I did not mean it... I did not want to hurt you..."

He held me tight, as if clutching a priceless treasure.

I did not move, nor did I respond.

Soon enough, overcome by his heavy intoxication, he slumped onto the sofa and passed out.

I looked at his sleeping profile and, moments later, slipped his car keys from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

That Bentley had struck me as off from the day of the crash.

But Ryland insisted I was too sensitive and refused to let me dig further.

I took the keys without a second thought.

That very night, I drove the car to a private repair shop I had arranged in advance, one utterly trustworthy.

The mechanic was a friend of my college senior, whom I roused from sleep, yet he raised no objection.

I handed him the keys, my voice steady. "Spare no expense, inspect the brake system, check every inch inside and out."

At four in the morning, the sky still dark.

I received a call from the mechanic, his voice gravely serious on the line. "Mrs. Payne, this car's brake fluid line shows signs of deliberate sabotage with a high-strength corrosive agent. This tampering was extremely subtle, hidden on the inner side of the line joint, invisible in a standard inspection. But under high-speed driving or sudden braking in the rain, the line would burst from the instant pressure, causing the brakes... to fail completely."

A thunderous roar echoed in my mind.

In a flash, every deliberately buried detail, every doubt I had overlooked, linked into a crystal-clear chain.

Two years ago, on that night of pouring rain, I drove Ryland's car to bring Theo home from the old estate, and on the road, to dodge a truck that veered out suddenly, I slammed on the brakes...

But the pedal sank like stepping into cotton, utterly unresponsive.

Everyone called it an accident, my mishandling in the storm, my fault that killed Theo.

It was no accident at all!

That Bentley was Ryland's usual ride.

Only that day, my own car broke down for some unknown reason and went to the shop.

Ryland happened to switch to a Rolls-Royce that day, so I borrowed the Bentley.

When I drove to the estate, the rain had not started yet, so I noticed nothing wrong with the brakes.

During that period, the only one who could access his private car frequently without raising suspicion, aside from the driver, was his most trusted and intimate personal secretary, Jolie.

I finally understood why, over these two years, her glances at me always carried that faint trace of pity and mockery.

She mocked me for not even knowing how my own son truly died.

I drew a deep breath and swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat, then dialed a number. "Investigate Jolie Hayes for me, all her bank transactions and communication records from two years ago, I want her to pay in blood."

The next morning, I stormed into Ryland's office with the brake inspection report printed overnight and a dossier on suspicious fund flows.

He sat behind his massive desk, his face still etched with the exhaustion of a hangover, and when he saw me enter, a flicker of guilt over my arm wound crossed his eyes instinctively.

That guilt now seemed utterly mocking.

I gave him no chance to speak and strode forward to slam the two documents down on his desk with force.

"Ryland, look closely."