I brought my husband, Victor Boone, back from the disaster zone and sent the girl I’d raised for six years to become a trainee. That was when he, who had always been cold and restrained, finally snapped.

He took our infant son to the desert’s no-man’s-land. “Tell me where Keith Warner is, or I’ll bury him alive.”

“There are five mounds of sand here. You have five chances.”

Victor placed our son into a shallow pit. The scorching sand instantly seared his delicate skin, and he cried out in pain.

My heart felt as if it had been thrown into boiling oil.

Before I could even beg, he began to shovel sand onto our son.

The first pile—my mind flashed back to little Victor glaring at me: “You’re the orphan my mom adopted? Don’t think living in my house makes you worthy of being my child bride.”

The second—when I was eighteen and had plans to study in Rivergate City, Victor had banged on my door, red-eyed, holding me tightly: “I won’t let you leave. I won’t let you go to Rivergate City.”

The third—on my 20th birthday, Victor proposed to me. “Claire Whitmore, you mean more to me than life itself.”

The fourth—he’d been caught in an earthquake while away on business. When he returned after six months, Vanessa Bright was with him.

From then on, Victor would silently slip from our bed at night to go to hers.

At first, they truly just slept.

Until one day, his body carried the lingering scent of roses—her scent—for three full days.

That’s when I knew everything had changed.

Our son’s cries weakened into strained, choking sobs.

I begged, “He’s your son, too!”

Victor’s face didn’t flinch. “Without Keith, what use do I have for a son?”

As my baby was nearly buried alive, I had no choice but to yield.

I told him where she was.

Without a word, Victor ran to Keith Warner—never looking back.

When I pulled my son from beneath the blistering sand, his tiny body was limp, his cries fading to faint groans.

I called for an ambulance, then dialed another number.

“I’ll join the organization. I’m leaving with my child in a week.”

...

The man who once bought a hundred stars for our son, Ethan Boone, the day he was born…

He’d said then, “Every year on his birthday, he’ll be named after a star. Our son will live a hundred years.”

But now, for Vanessa Bright, he was willing to bury that same child—barely a hundred days old—alive.

I tried to explain, desperate, “She wanted to go. It was her dream!”

“No,” Victor murmured, his eyes briefly softening. “Her dream… is that I sleep soundly.”

“So she’ll never leave me.”

Staring at his deranged expression, I knew—once again—I had no choice but to surrender.

After Victor left, the ambulance rushed us to the hospital.

Ethan’s life wasn’t in immediate danger, but large portions of his skin had been burned and badly infected.

I held him in the hospital bed. His body was feverish, curled tightly, whimpering even in his sleep.

My phone buzzed. A message from Victor.

[I’ve arranged the best doctor. Ethan will recover. I’ll bring Keith back later. As long as you don’t embarrass her, you’ll still be my wife.]

I stared at the screen, my fingertips trembling.

Becoming Victor’s wife had been my dream since I was a teenager.

When I was adopted by the Boone family, he hated me. Cold and aloof, he rarely spoke. But whenever I was bullied at school, he’d appear—fists flying—leaving himself battered to defend me.

When I turned eighteen, he begged me not to leave, cornered me against the wall, and kissed me.

My face burned under his kiss, and when I was gasping for air, he whispered into my ear, “Claire, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

“I just didn’t have the courage to admit it.”

On my birthday that year, he lit fireworks across 18 city landmarks, turning the whole night sky into a spectacle just for me.

When he proposed, he bought me a private island—made me feel like the most cherished woman under the stars.

“Claire, you are more important than my life.”

Back then, I thought that happiness would last forever.

But it only lasted until the end of our honeymoon.

Victor went on a business trip and got caught in an earthquake. He was trapped for 99 hours—starving, weak, surrounded by death. And in that moment of darkness, it was Vanessa Bright’s rose-scented presence he clung to.

Her parents shielded a small space with their bodies, saving only water for the two of them—sacrificing their lives to ensure their children survived.

Before dying, they entrusted Vanessa Bright to Victor.

Six months later, he brought her home.

I never imagined that this so-called debt of gratitude would become a lifelong torment for me.

I kissed the corner of my son’s eye. “I’m sorry, baby. Mama let you suffer.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

I unblocked contact.

“I’ll join the organization. But I have one condition—I’m taking my child with me.”

The voice on the other end was low and amusing. “Your child… he’s just a few months old, right?”

The caller went by the codename Ferryman—leader of a top-tier global hacker syndicate. Once inside, your former identity is erased.

Exactly what I needed.

I said, “You’re well-connected. I want to leave in a week. Can you make that happen?”

“Of course,” he replied, a low chuckle in his voice. “In a week, the Ferryman will personally ferry you.”

Two days later, Ethan’s fever finally subsided, and I brought him home.

Before leaving, I wanted to personally erase every trace of myself from this house.

I had carefully preserved everything Victor gave me—our souvenirs, memories of a time I once cherished. Now, they were easy to pack away.

I only kept my computer, a few sets of clothes, and Ethan’s baby essentials. Everything else, I boxed up and asked property management to collect.

Ethan played quietly on the sofa, his tiny hands probing the gaps between the cushions. With a proud giggle, he held up his “trophy.”

It was Victor’s ring.

Our wedding ring—the one that witnessed our vows and symbolized our promises.

Now, it lay forgotten in the crack of a sofa. Seeing it again, my mind flooded with memories of this shattered marriage.

When I first heard Victor was caught in the earthquake, I nearly miscarried from the shock.

At the time, with his life hanging in balance, I did everything I could to protect our baby.

Six months later, Victor came home. That very day, our child was lost.

I had simply reached out to pat Vanessa Bright’s head, to welcome her into our home as family.

But she suddenly snapped—violently slamming her arms into my belly and shoving me to the ground.

The child I had fought so hard to save was gone, just like that.

Victor said she had post-traumatic stress,and told me not to blame her—blame him instead.

But he had just escaped death. How could I bring myself to blame him?

So in the end, I swallowed the grief alone.

After that, Victor treated me better—twice as attentive, even.

But I still noticed the changes in him.

At first, he would wake in the night from nightmares—the earthquake haunting his sleep.

Later, once I was asleep, he’d quietly slip into Vanessa Bright’s room.

Only her scent in the darkness could bring him rest. He’d fall asleep beside her and return to me before dawn.

Eventually, he stopped hiding it. He stayed out all night. Even when I caught him coming out of her room in the morning, he’d greet me with a calm, “Good morning. Is breakfast ready?”

I pitied him for the trauma he endured. And since I knew—at first—they were really just sleeping, I tolerated it all.

Until one day, Victor came home with the scent of roses on him.

The scent lingered for three days. Even though he stayed in our bed those nights, it clung to him.

Vanessa Bright had grown up, and everything between them had changed.

He would take the wildflowers she picked from the roadside and turn them into everlasting bouquets—while tossing the lilies I’d bought for our home into the trash, just because they masked her rose scent.

He’d keep me tending the stove for ten hours to make tonic soup, only to dump it out because she didn’t like it, even though it was brewed for him.

He’d leave me alone on our anniversary just to stay by her side, worried she might feel lonely.

The dream was broken, and it was time to wake up.

The person who meant more to Victor than his life... was no longer me. It was his little rose.

I didn’t care anymore. In five days, I would vanish from his world without a trace.

A knock came at the door. I assumed it was the property staff, but when I opened it, it was Victor.

His face was dark, as if he had come to confront me about something.

But then his eyes fell on the items I had sorted on the floor, and he froze.

“You’re... throwing these away?” He picked up a cup. “Isn’t this your favorite? You use it every day.”

His confusion pierced me like a knife.

It had been a matching set of couple mugs, custom-made by the two of us. But because Vanessa Bright liked it, Victor had given her his.

The next day, her cup shattered. After that, I never used mine again.

It had been a full year. And he never even noticed.

“It’s useless now, so I’m tossing it,” I said calmly, then changed the subject. “Did Vanessa Bright find it?”

Victor’s voice turned icy. “You still have the nerve to bring up Vanessa?”

He looked at me—eyes full of loathing.

When Vanessa Bright walked in, I almost didn’t recognize her.

Just five days ago, she was as radiant as a blooming flower. Now, her cheeks were swollen, the corners of her mouth cracked, and bruises mottled her exposed wrists—so severe they were horrifying to look at.

“Claire!” She dropped to her knees the moment she saw me, the dull thud of bone against the floor echoing sharply. “Please let me go. I can’t take it anymore!”

Instinctively, I stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

“They make you train day and night. You’re not even allowed to eat!” She lifted her skirt, revealing dark scars on her waist. “I fainted from hunger and exhaustion. They whipped me awake with a leather strap!”

“That’s impossible!” I blurted out. Before agreeing to send her there, I had thoroughly vetted the company—they had no record of mistreating trainees.

Vanessa Bright’s tears splashed onto the floor. “It’s true! Please don’t make me go back. I can’t be a trainee anymore!”

A chill ran through me. “What do you mean I’m forcing you? You told me it was your dream. You begged me to help you!”

“I never had a dream. I just wanted to stay by Victor’s side.”

Then she turned to Victor with a heartbreaking expression. “Victor, training is too hard. I really can’t handle it. Can I stay with you instead? I promise I’ll be good.”

Victor reached out, gently patting her head and helping her up.

When he turned to me, his gaze was as cold as a blade of ice. “Why did you force her?”

“I didn’t!” I protested, my voice trembling. “She begged me to go! I investigated that company—they don’t treat people like that. There must be some kind of misunderstanding—”

“Look at her injuries,” Victor cut in, his brow furrowed. “What misunderstanding could explain this?”

“Since you refuse to admit it, then you should experience the same suffering Vanessa did. Think of it as penance.”

I tried to speak, but he was already dragging me to the storage room. His grip was so tight on my wrist that I felt the bruise forming instantly.

He called Vanessa Bright over and told her to bring Ethan.

Victor had always been gentle with our son. So when Ethan saw him, he giggled, stretched out his little arms, and nestled against him, seeking affection.

But Victor didn’t respond. With a cold expression, he peeled the child from his neck and shoved him into my arms.

“Vanessa was beaten. I won’t lay a hand on you—but your son will suffer with you instead.”

“Victor!” I clung to his arm. “I swear, I didn’t do anything! We can check the cameras—call the police!”

“So now you’re saying Vanessa is lying?” Victor’s voice dropped, trying to stay calm. “Who would do this to themselves just to frame someone?”

“I’ve raised Vanessa for six years. I know her—she’s gentle, kind, pure.”

“But you...” His eyes turned colder than ever. I felt like a stranger under his gaze. “Claire, when did you become so cruel? You would even harm a little girl?”

It felt like my soul was being dragged into a frozen abyss.

We had known each other for sixteen years. We shared a bed for six.

Yet all it took was Vanessa Bright’s tears to erase everything.

The storage room door slammed shut, plunging us into darkness. Ethan’s cries filled the air, loud and desperate.

The hot, dusty air choked us. My baby, still recovering from illness, thrashed restlessly in my arms. His cries turned from sharp wails to broken, hoarse sobs.

“Victor! Open the door! He’s burning up again!” I pounded the door with all my strength, my palms going numb. “He was just released from the hospital! His wounds haven’t healed! He’ll die in here!”

“Victor, punish me—hit me if you want! But save Ethan!”

“He’s your son, too! I’m begging you!”

Silence.

Only silence.

I slid down to the floor, my body trembling. It felt as if my heart had been carved out of my chest while I was still alive.

Ethan’s cries began to fade. His breath grew shallow.

“Ethan! Don’t fall asleep!” I slapped his cheek gently. “Baby, look at Mommy!”

His lips parted slightly, making a faint sound, but his eyes never opened.

“Ethan!”