Everyone in Paris knew.

Everett Myers was completely devoted to Maggie Crawford, the young woman he had mentored over the years. As for me, his lawfully wedded wife, I was merely a cover.

At what should have been the ninth anniversary celebration of our marriage, the screen intended to show our wedding photos instead displayed moments of Everett's joyful times with Maggie over the years—their first time holding hands, their first kiss...

In the final sequence, Maggie appeared, scantily dressed, her eyes glistening with tears, like a fragile lily swaying in the breeze.

"Uncle, I'm sorry. I can't forget you, and I can't watch you marry someone you don't love."

"I've taken something to, you know, make myself want you... If you're not here by midnight..."

The video hadn’t finished playing when Everett, usually so composed, raced out of the venue like he had lost his mind, just as he had done on the previous occasions, leaving me alone in the grand reception hall.

Everyone was betting on when our tenth ceremony would be. Only I knew there would be no next time.

After seeing off all the guests, I dialed the number.

"Is your offer still valid?"

Receiving an affirmative response, I replied, "In three days."

After hanging up, Maggie's Twitter post popped up on my phone.

"The stars I've wished for over ten years are finally mine."

The photo showed a floor scattered with condoms and shredded clothing, along with a vague glimpse of Everett's sleeping profile.

The comment section was already flooded with 99 responses. Paris’s social circle was small; everyone knew what had happened, yet no one mentioned me.

I chuckled and liked the post, casually adding my own '99.'

A moment later, Maggie video-called me. She wore a large white shirt—the one I had specifically chosen for Everett that morning. It hung loosely, with only one button fastened, her skin marked with passion.

She beamed at me.

"Auntie, don't be upset. I just love Uncle too much; I can't help it."

Everett’s voice chimed in, scolding yet indulgent, "Don’t be silly, Maggie, and stop bothering Ophelia."

Maggie, feigning innocence, replied, "Uncle, I’m afraid Auntie might be angry. She just commented '99' on my Twitter."

Everett frowned, taking the phone. "Maggie is young and doesn’t know any better. Why are you engaging in this nonsense with her?"

Then, turning to Maggie, he added, "Just this once, it won't happen again."

Maggie responded by sticking her tongue out.

I had seen this scene many times, from our first wedding until now. Every time Maggie would stir up trouble, and Everett always took her side, leaving with the promise of "just this once."

Yet, each time, he would make exceptions for her.

I calmly ended the call.

The hotel manager approached, asking, "Ms. Lawrence, would you like to continue postponing the wedding banquet?"

I glanced around at the meticulously arranged wedding venue. After ten years, I knew every detail by heart. My heart ached for a moment, then I smiled and shook my head, "No need."

Maggie had reached for her stars.

I should find my own stars, too.

By the time I got home, it was already afternoon. I tried entering the door code a few times, but none of my attempts worked. Finally, someone opened the door from the inside.

Maggie greeted me with a playful smile and a cheeky grin. "Auntie, I changed the door code. Uncle said I should stay here for a few days. The code is today's special date." She seemed eager to settle in.

Behind her, I heard Everett's voice urging me inside. I saw Maggie lying on our bed—mine and Everett's. Beside her, Julien was busy drawing her blood. My belongings were scattered carelessly in the living room. It was only then that Everett paid me a bit of attention.

"Maggie's meds haven't worn off yet. Julien said we need to monitor her for three days, so I asked her to move in," Everett said, trying to sound reasonable. I nodded absentmindedly, not rising to the expected confrontation. Every time Thanksgiving ended, it would lead to a shouting match between Everett and me about Maggie, followed by a week of icy silence until I inevitably caved.

Everett tried to reassure me. "Ophelia, next month we'll have a proper wedding." Another promise, but Everett, usually a man of his word, seemed unable to keep them when it came to Maggie. I looked up at him, watching his concerned gaze locked onto Maggie's face, unable to conceal his worry.

For the first time, I rejected his offer. "No need." Everett frowned as he looked at me. "Maggie's still young, don't hold it against her," he said.

I cut him off, looking him in the eye seriously. "I'm not holding it against her; I just don't want the wedding anymore." It felt pointless. Before Everett could say anything else, Maggie's sultry voice floated out from the room.

Everett looked angrily at Julien. "Didn't you say Maggie was fine? So what's going on now?"

Julien replied, confused, "Mr. Myers, the blood test results show no traces of drugs in Ms. Crawford's system."

Maggie started tugging at her clothes, and Everett quickly closed the door. Moments later, indescribable noises came from the room.

I spent the night on the couch, listening to the chaos until dawn, when I finally drifted into a restless sleep. It seemed my heart, which had always ached so much, had gone numb now.