"A beggar like you deserves to be beaten, Jackson! How could a penniless fool like him ever understand the value of such a fine diamond necklace, Jacob?!" Madam Ester lashed out furiously.

"What are you doing, Dear?!"

Brielle, too, burst out in anger at Jackson's actions. She had been waiting for that diamond necklace to be placed around her neck by Jacob-the genuine diamond necklace she had always dreamed of.

Jackson was stunned. He had just been punched, and yet his wife cared only about the necklace?!

"You are my wife, dear. Why would you accept gifts from another man?"

With boldness, Jackson asked that question. This time, he didn't care if his mother-in-law grew furious again.

"But you've never given me anything, have you, Dear? Let alone an expensive piece of jewelry like this-you can't even afford to buy me simple makeup, right?"

"Darling?! You can't compare things like that. No matter what, we are husband and wife. You must listen to what I say, my love."

"A poor beggar like you has nothing to be proud of! All you do is bring trouble!"

Unable to hold back any longer, Madam Ester stepped forward and shoved Jackson, who was still holding his wife's hand.

Jackson staggered back a few steps but remained standing tall. He had braced himself beforehand.

He was stunned. What had all his efforts been worth, then? Every day he worked tirelessly without choosing what kind of work-doing everything sincerely. He alone managed their vast plantation, cleaning and tending to it himself. The sales profits reached hundreds of millions every month, yet not a single percent ever went to him. Still, Jackson had never complained or kept score.

"Mother. No matter how poor or wretched I am, I am still Brielle's husband."

"Brielle will divorce you! What else do you have to say now?!"

Madam Ester's voice thundered, leaving Brielle utterly shocked.

Not because she feared separating from Jackson, but because if they divorced, they would need to hire servants again-just as before-to clean their large house. Their palm oil plantation would also need several workers, all of whom required expensive wages. No. Brielle couldn't bear to see tens of millions spent each month just to pay for labor again.

Quickly, Brielle bent down, picked up the diamond necklace that had fallen earlier, and showed it to Madam Ester.

"Mother, it's fine. The necklace isn't damaged, just a small scratch. You can't even see it. It's still very beautiful and perfect for me to wear."

Jackson smirked slightly. From the way the so-called diamond from South Africa had glimmered earlier, he had already doubted its authenticity. His suspicion was confirmed after hearing his wife's words.

He stepped forward, pulled some cash from his pocket, and handed it to his mother-in-law.

"This is to repay Jenny, Mother."

Madam Ester froze for a second, then gave a mocking smile.

"Where did you borrow this money from?! Whoever was foolish enough to lend money to someone useless like you must regret it. Hmph! Just don't let debt collectors come here and cause a scene later!"

"Don't worry, Mother."

"Unless he stole it or even robbed someone, Auntie! Haha! To get that kind of money, he must've stooped to the lowest of lows. Pathetic."

Jacob sneered, laughing arrogantly.

"Oh, I just want to remind you all. A real diamond would never scratch so easily-not even if stepped on. Especially one supposedly from South Africa."

Thud.

Jacob swallowed hard at Jackson's words.

Jackson spoke calmly, then walked away.

"Worthless beggar! What would he know about diamonds? This is probably the first time he's ever seen one!"

As always, Madam Ester's words cut deep, aiming to wound Jackson.

But he didn't care. He kept smiling faintly as he walked to the back to wash himself.

The night wore on, but Jackson still couldn't close his eyes. His mind was restless, his heart unsettled since noticing strange things about his wife lately.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Half past midnight," Jackson muttered, deep in thought.

Determined, he rose and left his room.

The house was dim, silence covering every corner-everyone was surely fast asleep by now.

Jackson walked toward his wife's room at the front.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Darling. Please open the door for a moment."

He knocked and called softly.

"Darling?"

A few seconds later, the door opened.

"What is it, Dear?!" Brielle asked groggily, her voice heavy with sleep.

Jackson stepped inside, took her hand, and closed the door behind them-locking it.

"What are you doing, Dear? Why did you lock the door?!"

Brielle's eyes widened, startled awake by Jackson's unexpected action.

"Darling, I miss you. We've been married for two years. Tonight, I want to claim my right as your husband."

Jackson placed his hands on Brielle's shoulders, his breath ragged with longing.

After all, he was a normal man. A grown man of twenty-eight, already married. He was grateful he had managed to wait two long years before asking to touch the wife who was rightfully his.

W-what do you mean, Dear?! I'm not ready."

Brielle's voice trembled as she backed away in panic.

"You've finished college, haven't you, darling? I've waited two years for this night. You are my wife, and I am your husband. What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine. I don't want to delay this any longer. I want us to have an heir."

"W-what are you saying, Dear?! That's impossible. Leave. I'm not ready!"

"Darling, until when will you be ready?!"

"Until you can give me a life of luxury. Until you can buy me a grand palace to live in. Until you can buy me the most expensive car in the world. Well? Can you do that, Dear?!"

Silence.

Jackson's heavy breathing slowed. The fiery passion in his eyes dimmed. His heart, which had been racing with desire, steadied again.

"Don't you love me, darling?" Jackson asked suddenly.

His voice wavered slightly, filled with the desperate need to know the truth. After two years of marriage, he wanted-needed-to understand his place in her heart, here and now.

"I will love you if everything I just mentioned can be fulfilled, Dear. Life isn't just about love. Life requires luxury and everything that comes with it. And I cannot hand over my precious life for love alone."

Thump!

Jackson's chest felt pierced once again. Though Brielle hadn't directly said the words, he understood the answer hidden in her statement.

He froze, staring deeply into his wife's eyes-the eyes he had never been able to fully read. Now, he realized there was no spark of love in them. The woman he had always been proud of, the one he had placed above all else, looked at him without affection.

Jackson had never once done household chores before in his life, yet he was willing to do them all for her. Even the kitchen work, he carried out gladly.

Suddenly, it was as if he awoke from a long dream. He began to suspect there was some kind of scheme behind all of this. But perhaps he needed to endure a little longer if he wanted to uncover the truth.

"Very well. Then I'll go back to my room, Brielle. Good night."

Jackson released Brielle's shoulders, opened the door, and left the room without glancing back at the woman who had been his wife for the past two years.

Days passed, and during that time Jackson simply remained silent as he watched Jacob come and go-always picking up and dropping off Brielle at her workplace.

Yes, Brielle was now working at Jacob's company. And day by day, her arrogance grew more apparent, even toward her own younger sister.

"Jenny! Jennifer!"

That morning, Brielle's voice rang out sharply from the front.

"Yes, Sis Brielle. What is it?"

Jenny ran up, responding quickly to her older sister whom she had always loved dearly.

"Why haven't you polished my work shoes? Look at this-dust is still clinging to the heels!"

"Huh?! Oh-yes, let me clean them quickly, Sis."

"Hurry! I don't have much time!"

Brielle immediately thrust out her foot, already wearing her red leather shoes, while she remained seated. Jenny crouched down and carefully polished them until they shone.

Jackson had witnessed such scenes many times, and each time he grew more baffled by Brielle's increasing cruelty toward her own sister.

-

That night, the clock struck nine, yet Brielle still hadn't returned home.

Though he knew deep down that his wife could not-or rather, would not-love him because he had nothing, Jackson's heart was filled with worry. As her lawful husband, he felt responsible if anything were to happen to her-even though he had never once touched her.

[Darling, why aren't you home yet?]

Jackson finally sent a message.

[I'm working late tonight, Dear. Don't wait for me.]

Reading that reply made Jackson even more uneasy.

Though Brielle had never told him the address of the company she worked for, Jackson had easily found out. And now, here he was, standing in front of the company parking lot.

Sure enough, Jacob's car was still parked neatly there. Normally, office hours ended at five. Even with overtime, why would it be this late?

"Excuse me, Sir. Who are you looking for?"

The security guard, an older man, approached politely.

"I'm looking for the owner of this company. His car is still parked over there."

"Oh, Mr. Jacob. Earlier, Mr. Marck did leave his car here, but he and his companions went out in a friend's car."

The elderly guard explained respectfully.

"I see. Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not too sure, Sir. But from what I overheard, I think they were heading to a club or bar-though I don't quite remember. Sorry."

Jackson was touched by the guard's courteous manner. The man was clearly aging, yet still working late into the night.

"I understand. Thank you very much."

Jackson smiled faintly, then left. But unease gnawed at his chest as he thought of Jacob taking his wife to such places. Still, his clear mind reminded him that the clubs and bars around here were exclusive and high-class.

Without delay, Jackson pulled out his phone and made a call-to begin tracking his wife's whereabouts.

Do not call Jackson anything less than the only heir of the Raksa Hethawey Sultan family-for there was nothing he could not accomplish in the blink of an eye.

Less than an hour later, he was already standing in front of Munich Light Club, the most luxurious nightclub in town. Few could enter, and certainly not without prior arrangement. Yet, for Jackson, it was never a problem.

Unfortunately, his steps were halted right at the entrance.

"Please show your membership card-Gold, Platinum, or Titanium."

A burly guard blocked his path.

"Titanium. But I forgot to bring it. I'm a member under the Raksa family," Jackson answered quickly, hoping to head upstairs without further delay.

The guard looked him up and down. Then burst out laughing.

"Raksa family?! Are you trying to fool me? Get out before I beat you half to death!"

Thump!

Jackson's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening instantly.

"I don't have time for this. Step aside!"

"With that shabby appearance, you dare dream of entering a Sultan's circle? Hah! Go home and take a look in the mirror. Then check your wallet-see if you can even afford gas for your motorbike, if you even own one!"

"Stop wasting my time. I'm not here to play around."

Brughht!

The guard suddenly threw a punch at Jackson's stomach.

But in the same instant, Jackson countered, striking back with controlled fury.

Brughht! Brughht!

"I already told you-I don't have time for games! I told you not to make me angry!"

Jackson punched again and again, his blows landing squarely on the guard's stomach and face.

"Call your manager! Call Bastian here, now!"

Seeing the commotion-and especially hearing Jackson demand for their manager by name-one of the staff, who had been watching the scene unfold like free entertainment, quickly made a call.

"Manager, please come downstairs at once. There's a disturbance here."

"What disturbance?! Why didn't you handle it right away?!"

"The man is forcing his way in without a membership card. He claims he's from the Raksa family, and-he mentioned your name, sir. He's demanding you come down."

"W-what?!"

Click!

Bastian immediately hung up and sprinted toward the elevator.