I ignored Grayson's text and went back to the bedroom to pack.

To better take care of Kathy, I had long since moved out of the main bedroom and into the study next to her room.

Looking around, there was barely anything in the room that actually belonged to me.

Boxes of adult diapers, packs of herbal supplements, and nursing pads—all for Kathy—were stacked everywhere. Grayson's paintings, classical poetry collections, and writing desk were all neatly arranged.

As for me, I had nothing more than a shabby wardrobe and a small vanity.

The clothes were all outdated in style, and the few skincare products I had left had expired without me noticing.

Looking at the woman in the mirror—only 30 years old, yet sallow-faced and gaunt—I felt a sudden stab of pain in my heart.

I had actually turned myself into this pathetic person for Grayson.

Thinking of Paul Fulton, my former professor and mentor, who had been so regretful when I resigned, I felt even more ashamed. For the first time in six years, I dialed his number.

It rang only once before it was picked up.

"Dahlia Prescott… You finally decided to call this old man, huh?"

I felt both ashamed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, Prof. Fulton. I let you down before, and I was just too embarrassed to reach out. But now, I'd like to—"

"I've told you before—you can come back anytime. I'll handle the paperwork for you right now. You can come back to work in three days."

"Thank you, Prof. Fulton."

After hanging up, my rough, calloused hands holding the phone wouldn't stop trembling. Tears spilled uncontrollably from my eyes.

Thank goodness, I could still turn back.

Holding on to the last bit of warmth in my heart, I made a list of Kathy's daily necessities.

But just as I was about to leave with my suitcase in hand, Grayson opened the door and walked in with his students.

The foul stench in the air made everyone instinctively cover their noses.

"What is that smell? It's awful."

"Is there a sewage truck outside? Did someone forget to close the windows?"

The moment Grayson saw Kathy's door wide open, he immediately understood what was happening, and his face first darkened, then flushed red. Striding into my room, he started scolding me in a low voice.

"Dahlia, didn't I tell you to get Mom cleaned up? How are we supposed to eat with that smell? Hurry up and change her."

I looked up at him, expressionless.

"Why should I?"

The irritation on his face froze. He stared at me—someone who usually didn't even dare to raise my voice—and asked in disbelief, "What did you just say?"

"I said, why should I? Let's get one thing straight. That's your mother, not mine."

"Dahlia Prescott, have you lost your mind—"

But before he could finish, I pulled out the fake marriage certificate and threw it onto the floor.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I looked straight at him.

"Yes, I must've lost my mind. That's why I happily married you back then. But today, I finally see you for who you really are. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other."

The old suitcase rattled loudly across the floor, completely different from six years ago, when I had entered this house full of hope.

Grayson was also no longer the happy, smiling young man who hugged me and said, "Welcome home". Now, he looked at me with resentment as he called out to stop me.

"I just didn't have the time to hold a wedding with you, that's all. Must you make a scene like this in front of my students?"

The entire room fell silent.

I turned around in disbelief. Even now, he still had the nerve to blame me?

Before Grayson could say anything, Callista stepped in to defend him, looking aggrieved on his behalf.

"Mrs. Strickland, Prof. Strickland is indeed very busy. If you wanted a wedding, couldn't you just talk it over properly? Why force him like this?"

The other students all sided with Grayson as well.

"Exactly. A wedding is just a formality. Why be so old-fashioned about it?"

"Prof. Strickland is swamped with classes every day. He must be exhausted. But her? She has no ambition, chooses to be a stay-at-home wife, lives off his money, and does nothing else. And still, she can't even take proper care of her mother-in-law."

"What could she possibly even do without Prof. Strickland?"

In an instant, all the female students were criticizing me. It was as if they were the face of the modern, independent woman, while I was nothing but a parasite clinging to a man, deserving of judgment.

But none of them knew the truth.

Every bite of food, every drop of oil, every piece of paper in this house came from me scrimping and saving.

Even Kathy's medical fees came from me working part-time grading papers online.

Meanwhile, every penny of Grayson's salary went into taking his students out to enjoy their lives… and into the little love nest he shared with Callista.

My fingers gripping the suitcase handle gradually turned pale. Thinking of everything I'd given over the years, I couldn't help but let out a cold, mocking smile.

"You're right. Prof. Strickland does have a reputation for being refined and elegant. And yet, he's still not above messing around with his student."

Then, I turned to Grayson. "You're just as filthy as the feces and urine from your mother. From today onward, I'm done dealing with either of you."

I turned and started to leave, dragging my suitcase behind me, but several students suddenly blocked my way.

"What do you mean by that? We were just speaking the truth, and now you're slandering people like that? We're just here to learn from Prof. Strickland. How can you make it sound so dirty?"

I slowly turned my head, my gaze landing coldly on Grayson. I must've looked like a completely different person. It was like the proud, brilliant woman I once was had finally returned.

Grayson's breathing hitched. When he glanced down at the marriage certificate I had thrown earlier, a flicker of unease crossed his face.

But then he thought back on how meek and hardworking I'd been for the past six years, enduring everything without complaint, and he reassured himself that my words just now were only a fluke. In reality, I couldn't possibly leave him.

So, he pulled out 200 dollars from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"A wedding is just inviting others for a meal. If you really want one, go rent a wedding dress and wear it.

"I'm taking the students to the Silent Bridge by the lake to enjoy the winter scenery. I hope that by the time we get back, dinner will be ready and everything will be back to normal."

With his slender, uncalloused fingers, he pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up, then grandly led the group out.

The very moment the door slammed shut behind them, the sound of shattering glass came from Kathy's room.

I instinctively rushed in.

Blood was rapidly dripping from her thin, withered wrist, pooling on the floor beneath her. I hurriedly called for an ambulance.

Amid the piercing wail of sirens, Kathy pleaded weakly, "Lia, you're a good kid. Grayson just lost his way for a moment. I won't burden you anymore… Please, don't blame him, okay?"

A loud buzz exploded in my head, and a sharp ringing filled my ears. I swallowed the "Mom" that almost escaped my lips and asked, my voice trembling, "So you've known all along? He secretly told you before he and Callista got married?"

Kathy shut her eyes tightly and gave the faintest nod.

I collapsed heavily onto the floor.

My eyes fell on the phone hanging around her neck—the one she always kept on her to contact me in emergencies—and I reached for it, almost as if possessed.

I clicked on her social media. There, in a post made public to everyone but me and my family, were photos of Grayson and Callista's destination wedding.

Snow-capped mountains. A wedding dress. Flowers everywhere as far as the eye could see.

The two of them stood in front of a church, fingers intertwined, exchanging sweet vows.

"I love you. For all my days, my heart will be forever faithful."

That was the exact romantic wedding he and I had once dreamed of. Even the vows had been personally chosen by me.

Every single comment below was filled with blessings for the couple, including some from those same students who had so self-righteously condemned me just moments ago.

Their comments all carried the belief that the one who wasn't loved was the real "other woman". They even saw Grayson's deception as an act of charity and sympathy toward me, simply because I was a worthless housewife who needed this "caretaker job" more than anyone.

The everyday grind versus romantic dreams—Grayson had divided it all so neatly and without any guilt. The former belonged to me, while the latter went to Callista.

And when a mutual friend of ours mentioned me, he simply posted his marriage certificate with Callista, silencing her completely.

Large tears fell onto the screen one after another. Only when there were no more tears left did I finally come back to my senses.

Looking at the mother-in-law I had once exhausted myself to care for, I felt nothing anymore.

Coldly, I said my final words to her, "I will never forgive any of you."

Her lips trembled. With the last of her strength, she whispered an apology before completely losing consciousness.

The ambulance arrived quickly and rushed her to the hospital. A doctor ran over with a surgical consent form, asking for a family member to sign.

I grabbed the pen, but then suddenly remembered the fake marriage certificate.

I had no right to sign this.

I quickly called Grayson. "Get to Mercy Hospital right now. Your mother slit her wrist and needs surgery."

The mocking laughter of young voices came from the other end. Callista even blatantly snatched the phone from him.

"Mrs. Strickland, you don't need to lie like this just to get Prof. Strickland to come home."

"I'm not lying."

"Then just sign the form yourself."

I glanced at the glaring red light above the operating room door and the anxious doctor beside me, and a nonchalant laugh escaped me.

"If you don't believe me, then forget it. Either way, I'm not signing it."

"Go on, Dahlia. Keep being so dramatic," Grayson snarled before hanging up.

I scoffed coldly. I gave the doctor Grayson's number, then quickly downloaded all the surveillance footage from Kathy's room.

When the doctor called him, Grayson rejected the call outright and even sent me a text message.

"Dahlia, I haven't finished painting the snowdrops blooming around Silent Bridge yet. Stop making a fuss.

"Prepare a good dinner. We'll be back soon. And don't forget to make plenty of braised pork ribs."

Seeing those words strung together felt utterly absurd.

Even so, out of kindness, I took a photo of the emergency room and sent it to him, only to find a red exclamation mark above my message.

I had been blocked.

After the doctor tried calling several more times, Grayson even turned off his phone.

Looking at the droplets of blood leading to the operating room, a bad feeling settled in my chest. Skipping Paul, I contacted that person directly.

"Hey dummy, what's the penalty for forging documents and marriage fraud?"