The moment Violet stepped into her home, her phone chimed.

Violet unlocked the screen. It was a photo.

In the image, Grayson stood shirtless, his back facing the camera. Ruby, in a strapless mermaid wedding gown, had the long hem of her dress hitched up to her waist. Her pale legs wrapped tightly around his strong torso. The pose left nothing to the imagination.

Another notification followed. A video.

On the screen, Ruby clung to Grayson's neck, her voice breathless, tinged with laughter.

"Grayson, how could you tear my wedding dress... I just got it today."

Grayson chuckled, his voice low as he leaned into her ear.

"Didn't you want the dress just to show it to me?"

His fingers traced the fabric. "I even got the same designer as Violet's to make one for you. Shouldn't you return the favor?"

Ruby gasped. The video ended abruptly.

But that wasn't enough. Another message followed.

[Oh dear, I almost forgot you're deaf. Such a shame! Next time, I'll make sure to add subtitles. *wink*]

Violet's fingers clenched around her phone, the joints turning white. Tears slipped silently down her face, hitting the floor one after another.

She never knew a heart could be split so cleanly in two.

Two wedding gowns, designed for two women.

'Grayson, is this the love you spoke of?'

She didn't want it. She couldn't bear it.

Suppressing the pain in her chest, she lifted a hand to wipe her tears.

Her engagement ring caught the light.

For a long moment, she stared at it. Then, she pulled it off and tossed it into the trash.

Grayson had once visited a jeweler to learn the craft himself. He designed it, hammered it into shape, oversaw every detail. He had said a ring only held meaning if he made it himself. That way, whenever she touched it, she would feel his love.

But now, that love had rotted.

The ring was worthless.

…

Deep into the night, Grayson returned.

Violet felt the bed sink beside her. A faint mix of cologne and the smell after the intimacy filled the space between them. The images from the video surfaced in her mind, twisting her stomach into knots. She bolted upright and ran to the bathroom, retching.

Grayson rushed after her, panic-stricken. "Violet, do you have food poisoning? I'll call the doctor!"

She grabbed his wrist, eyes red. "I'm fine. Just... recalled seeing some disgusting photos and videos."

He knelt, rubbing her back, his gaze filled with concern.

"Don't look at those things again," he signed. "It hurts me to see you suffer."

Afraid she wouldn't understand, he took her hand and pressed it against his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart pounded fast and strong.

She instinctively glanced down—then froze.

His collar was slightly open. A few deep-red marks stood out against his skin.

Her stomach twisted violently.

How could he sit here, full of concern, while carrying another woman's traces on his body? How could he pretend nothing had happened?

Grayson tensed at her reaction. "Who sent you those things? Tell me, Violet. I'll make them pay."

Violet let out a bitter laugh.

'Grayson, the person who did this to me... is you.'

She didn't want to see his face anymore.

"I want to sleep alone tonight," she signed. Then, she pushed him out and locked the door behind him.

He knocked, his voice anxious. "Violet, open the door. Let's talk."

She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over her head. The echoes of his voice in the video looped in her mind.

He had once promised her the kind of love no one else could have.

She had believed he was her salvation.

But in the end, he was the one pushing her down into abyss.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

If she could turn back time, she would rather never have met Grayson.

…

The next morning, Violet opened the door to find Grayson standing there, looking almost... pitiful.

"Violet, why did you kick me out? Is it because I left you at the bridal shop yesterday? I really had an emergency. Don't be mad, okay?"

An emergency?

Yes, rushing to bed with Ruby must have felt urgent.

She didn't call out his lie. In eight days, she would be gone. He would know then that she had already seen through everything.

She shook her head. "I'm not mad. Work is important. I understand."

Her calm response made something tighten in his chest. He immediately shook his head. "No! You're the most important, Violet. I'll never leave you alone again."

He signed the words carefully, then pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he could press her into his bones, make her a part of himself.

She said nothing.

The future he spoke of—

It no longer existed.

Perhaps it was guilt gnawing at Grayson. For the next few days, he stayed by her side, handling work from home while also going over the final details of the wedding.

Then came the business banquet he couldn't avoid attending.

He insisted that Violet accompany him. Before she had a chance to refuse, he had already arranged for a stylist to come over.

At the banquet, she realized Ruby was there too.

Dressed in a tight V-neck gown that left little to the imagination, Ruby approached them with a practiced smile. "Mr. Warhol. Miss Hudson."

Violet met her gaze. Calm and poised, there was no trace of the woman who had provoked her the night before. It was as if she had transformed into someone else entirely.

Quite the actress, just like Grayson.

A moment ago, she had clearly seen his expression shift the moment he laid eyes on Ruby. His gaze darkened, his Adam's apple moved slightly, but he still held her hand, maintaining his cold and distant facade as he gave Ruby a mere nod.

The moment Grayson appeared, guests flocked to him, glasses in hand, eager for conversation.

Some of the wealthy wives tried to engage Violet, but she continued to play the role of someone hard of hearing, letting their words fade into the background.

Grayson smiled as he offered explanations, worried she might grow bored. He personally selected the pastries she liked, placed a glass of juice beside her, drawing admiration from those around them.

"Mr. Warhol really is the perfect man."

"I've heard how much he dotes on his fiancée, and seeing it in person, I can't deny it."

Violet lowered her eyes, her long lashes casting a shadow over the mockery hidden within them.

As the chatter continued, Grayson's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly before he spoke apologetically. "Excuse me, I have some work to handle."

Then, turning to her, he signed in fluid motions, "Violet, wait here for me. I'll be back soon."

She instinctively scanned the room. Ruby was gone too.

Moments later, her phone vibrated.

A message from Ruby.

It was a screenshot of a chat.

In the image, Ruby had sent a photo—her bare back exposed, the zipper at the bottom of her dress left teasingly undone.

Beneath it, a message: [Mr. Warhol, my zipper won't go up. Can you help me?]

Grayson's forwarded response was brief: [Location?]

Then came another message: [He couldn't even wait until he got to the restroom. People were walking by outside. The thrill of it all—he took me twice. My legs can barely hold me up. That's something you'll never be able to give him.]

[Oh, and we didn't use protection. We've lost count of how many times we haven't. He said that if I get pregnant, I should keep the baby. Who knows, maybe I already have his baby growing inside me.]

Violet closed her eyes and pressed a hand against her chest, trying to dull the ache.

He really couldn't even wait a few hours?

Her phone vibrated again.

She assumed it was another of Ruby's taunts, but when she looked, it was a message from the agency handling her fake death.

"Miss Hudson, your new identity is ready. We've booked your flight to the UK for five days from now, departing at 6 p.m. We need you to confirm if you're proceeding with the plan."

She turned on her camera and recorded a short video of herself.

"I confirm the departure."

Just as she was done, a panicked voice sounded behind her.

"What do you mean, leaving? Are you leaving, Violet?"

Instinctively, Violet wanted to turn around, but she remembered that her "hearing impairment" had yet to recover. She forced herself to stay still.

Grayson rushed to her side, his eyes filled with panic.

"Violet, are you leaving me? We're about to get married—where would you go?"

When she gave no response, he suddenly realized and hurriedly repeated his words in sign language.

Violet's expression remained calm.

"A friend of mine is leaving."

He studied her face carefully, searching for any sign of deception. Only when he was sure she wasn't lying did he let out a breath of relief.

"That's a relief. Violet, you don't know how terrified I just was. I can't even imagine how I'd live if you ever left me."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, his face still etched with fear.

Hearing his heartfelt words, Violet felt nothing.

If he was so afraid of losing her, why had he betrayed her?

Was it because he believed she couldn't hear, so he had nothing to fear?

Too bad for him—he was about to be disappointed.

The lingering fear in Grayson's heart had yet to fade. He tightened his grip around her waist, ready to leave.

"Violet, let's go home. I won't let you out of my sight for even a second."

"Oh? And what about your assistant?" she asked.

"She wasn't feeling well, so she left early."

His lie came so effortlessly that it was almost laughable.

Just as they reached the parking lot, Violet saw Ruby struggling against a man's grip. The man held her wrist tightly, refusing to let her go. His other hand was already reaching for her waist when she suddenly broke free and slapped him hard across the face.

The man's expression twisted with anger. He grabbed a beer bottle from the ground and swung it at her.

In that split second, Violet felt the arm around her waist suddenly loosen.

Grayson bolted forward, shielding Ruby in his embrace.

The bottle shattered against his shoulder. Sharp glass cut through fabric and flesh, and blood quickly soaked his shirt.

His face turned terrifyingly dark. He checked Ruby for injuries, and when he confirmed she was unharmed, he grabbed the man by the collar and landed a fierce punch squarely on his face.

"Who gave you the guts to touch one of mine? Do you have a death wish?"

The man recognized Grayson instantly and was so terrified that he begged for mercy, not even daring to resist.

A shard of glass had cut Violet's cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood, but she remained motionless. She simply stood there, watching the man in front of her unleash his fury.

The scene overlapped with a memory from five years ago.

Back then, she had just started dating Grayson. It was their first time attending a business event together.

At the time, his reputation as a devoted lover had yet to be established. When people learned about her hearing impairment, she had clearly seen the scorn and amusement in their eyes.

After Grayson was pulled aside for business discussions, several men had surrounded her. They thought she was nothing more than a passing plaything. Even though she couldn't hear their words, she could read the mockery and lechery on their faces.

She wanted to call for help but was afraid of causing trouble for Grayson. She tried to warn them off again and again, only to be met with even deeper ridicule.

Just as one man reached out to touch her face, Grayson appeared out of nowhere and kicked him several feet away. His eyes burned red with rage as he pinned the man down and beat him mercilessly. Later, he ordered his secretary to cut all ties with them and blacklist them from the industry.

From that moment on, everyone knew that Violet was untouchable. No one dared to lay a finger on her.

Now, the scene replayed before her eyes—but this time, the woman in his arms was no longer her.