Meeting the calculating, triumphant look in his eyes, I tore off my Chief Physician badge and hurled it at him.

The pin grazed his cheek, drawing a line of blood. Natalie rushed forward to shield him.

“You’ve gone mad, Claire Dawson! Richard is the dean—how dare you?”

Realizing she’d overstepped, she pulled back awkwardly, standing aside in confusion.

“Whether I dare or not, it’s not for a mistress like you to judge.”

“Natalie was only worried for me. Dr. Dawson, mind your manners. Security, escort her back to her office.”

Breaking free of the guards, I glared coldly at Richard.

“You want to destroy me for your mistress? You’re not worthy.”

Richard acted quickly. All my consultations and surgeries were suspended.

On the hospital’s official website, the investigation report pinned every bit of blame on me.

At the press conference, Natalie, as a supposed bystander, slipped and accidentally revealed my home address.

Surveillance footage showed yellow-and-white funeral wreaths and blood-red curses plastered across my walls.

The reporters Richard had arranged surrounded my house, blocking it completely.

Everyone was desperate to drag me down.

The crowd at my doorstep grew larger, livestream viewers had already surpassed a million.

When I pressed play, the giant LED screen lit up,

broadcasting videos of Richard and Natalie together—in the Dean’s Office, in the On-call Room, even in hospital beds.

“What the hell, what a scandal! Isn’t that Dean Carter? And the woman—why’s her face masked?”

Even the journalists Richard had sent to feed off my misery looked stunned,

but instinct and professionalism drove their fingers to snap photos.

Click after click. Soon, Richard’s name shot to the top of the trending list.

“Breaking! The shining beacon of medicine Richard Carter caught in explicit video scandal!”

“Masked Queen hooks wealthy dean—sources claim over a hundred women involved.”

“Medical world shaken—prestigious private hospital tainted by scandal.”

As the posts exploded, Richard moved quickly.

Within fifteen minutes, both the reporters at my door and the online posts had vanished.

That night, Richard—who hadn’t stepped foot home in half a year—stormed into my bedroom.

“Claire Dawson, you’ve lost your mind! Where did you get that stuff?”

“You’ve broken the law—believe it or not, I could have you arrested.”

Adjusting the folds of my face mask, I studied his furious reflection in the mirror.

“Arrest me? You wouldn’t dare.” I replied flatly to his threat.

“Claire, must you make this so public? You know Natalie can’t have children. She poses no threat to your position as Mrs. Carter. All she wants is a little love. Do you really have to humiliate her?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping away tears I couldn’t control.

Humiliate her? She seduced my husband. She framed me.

And I’m the one who must bear society’s moral condemnation?

“Richard, stop acting sanctimonious—it disgusts me.”

He knew me well enough to understand: once I start something, I don’t stop.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples, as if making a great concession.

“Claire, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just admit publicly that the masked woman in the video was you.”

“After all, we’re married. At most, you’ll face some insults. But Natalie—if people find out, they’ll destroy her.”

His resolute words left me utterly desolate.

I tore off the mask and washed my face, staring into Richard’s eyes, searching desperately for a flicker of compassion for me.

But I found none.

“I want you and Natalie Brooks dead!” I screamed, my throat filling with blood.

“Absurd! Claire, you’re no young girl anymore—must you still compete with Natalie? You’re irrational! Keep this up, and someone else will take your place as Mrs. Carter.”

Meeting the murderous glint in his eyes, I gritted my teeth.

“You’re right. I’ll keep fighting. Let’s see how many blows Natalie can withstand.”

The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, as thunder ripped across the night sky.

A storm that had been brewing for days finally broke, pouring down with the heavy darkness.

Richard raced into his black Maybach. Judging by the route, he was headed to the love nest he had built for Natalie—

the very place he had hidden from me for half a year.

Facing him on the stage earlier, I had declared it:

I wanted Richard and Natalie to die together.

“Dean Carter, do you have any explanation for this video? Is Miss Brooks the Masked Queen—or just one of them?”

Reporters clamored, their questions filling the air.

The audience was stunned into silence, while the hosts scrambled to cut the hacked video feed.

Richard’s bodyguards swarmed around me, waiting until he had safely escorted Natalie away before they brought me to the tearoom.

“Claire Dawson, I warned you. I have plenty of ways to make you suffer…”

Meeting his furious eyes, I flung scalding tea at him.

With a hiss, the hot liquid stained his pale blue shirt.

He dabbed his face with a handkerchief.

“If it helps you vent, pour the whole pot. As long as you make it clear this has nothing to do with Natalie, you can take it out on me however you like.”

For a fleeting second, I glimpsed the sincerity he once showed me. My heart clenched, as though pierced by a needle.

“What is there to explain? Isn’t it the truth?”

“Claire, Natalie’s only in her twenties. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by scandal—she has a bright future ahead of her.”

His earnest defense made me laugh coldly.

“Richard, don’t tell me you’ve bought into her act. You really don’t know? She’s had nearly a dozen abortions. Do you truly think she’s some innocent little angel?”

“Shut up, Claire! How can an OB-GYN be this cruel? No wonder you don’t have children.”

My last shred of restraint snapped. I hurled the boiling tea at his face.

Even as his skin reddened from the burn, Richard still refused to release me.

“Claire, calm down, will you? You know Natalie has incredible medical talent. The director of the X-Plus Research Program is arriving soon to evaluate the hospital. Once three billion dollars in funding lands, your old dream can finally be realized. The regret of the past will be made whole again.”

“Don’t you see? Natalie is so much like the woman you used to be. What happened, Claire? You’ve become bitter, lifeless, jealous.”

His incredulous accusation made me clench the scar on my palm until it throbbed.

“Richard, have I changed—or have you simply grown insatiable?”

“You dare talk to me about dreams? Fine. Since you mentioned it, then publicly reveal the truth about Patient No. 23’s malpractice. Handle it fairly, and I’ll sit down and talk with you.”

Like a snake struck at its vital spot, Richard flew into a rage.

“The truth? You dare demand the truth? If not for your recklessness—insisting on performing surgery for a measly benefit—Natalie wouldn’t have been implicated, and Patient 23’s family wouldn’t have been torn apart.”