On the day of our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband told me he was getting remarried.

His face was perfectly calm as he told me: "The truth is, I'm the CEO of Sanchez Group. I'm worth billions. I only married you to see what an ordinary life felt like. In a week, Sanchez is forming a marriage alliance with the Pruitts."

"But don't worry, my heart still belongs to you. This is only a fake divorce. Once I get the Pruitts' core technology, I'll remarry you. And I won't touch her the whole time I'm tied to her."

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles ached, an explicit video playing on the screen without sound.

The two people in it were my husband and the Pruitt heiress.

I forced myself steady, looked at the sanctimonious mask of my husband's face, closed my eyes, and said, "Fine. I agree to the divorce."

Watching my husband walk away, thrilled to his core, I picked up my phone and replied to an email that had come a month ago.

【If you want me to come back to the Pruitts, fine. Prudence Pruitt's dowry has to be arranged by me. I want 25% of the Pruitt shares. Otherwise I won't honor that childhood betrothal with the Vances.】

——

The moment I sent it, the reply came almost instantly.

【Agreed. In a week she'll marry into Sanchez. You handle the timing however you like. Also, when do you want to marry into the Vance family?】

I stared at that message for a long time, unable to snap out of it.

It wasn't until Charles Sanchez walked over to me that I came back to myself. His face darkened, and he suddenly demanded, "Why are you making that face? Are you backing out?"

Before I could get a word out.

Charles spoke first, terrified I might change my mind. "Louise Mason, you're a woman who keeps her word above all. Whatever you agree to, you have to follow through!"

Looking at that anxious face of his, I felt a giant hand clamp down on my heart and wrench it apart, the pain leaving me unable to breathe.

Ten years ago I'd rebelled and fled the Pruitts, lived on my own for a year, and at nineteen I met Charles Sanchez.

We met because of a promise. I borrowed his umbrella and promised to return it in two hours, so he waited in the gazebo.

When I came back to the gazebo, Charles was checking his watch, astonished. "You really keep your word. Two hours, and not a second off."

From that meeting on, Charles grew interested in me, slowly learning what I liked, gradually folding himself into my life.

And now, Charles was the one asking to leave.

The man who once said he "wished he could tear up the marriage certificate and keep me trapped at his side for the rest of my life" had, in the end, changed his heart.

I pulled my thoughts back and said, my voice bitter, "Don't worry. Whatever I agree to, I'll do."

I had agreed to the divorce, but I never agreed to remarry Charles.

Hearing that, his brow smoothed. "Lulu, don't worry, it's only a formality with her. I don't actually love her."

"You'll always be my good wife, even if Sammy isn't with us now—"

"Shut up." I cut him off sharply. "You don't have the right to say his name!"

"Sammy's death was just an... accident. Why won't you let it go, why do you keep living in the past?" Charles explained, exasperated.

I turned my back on him, my voice raw. "Are you filing for the divorce or not? The county clerk's office closes in an hour!"

Charles said nothing more and hurried out to get the car.

Sitting in the car, I looked out the window. The half-open window rolled shut.

I glanced at Charles, confused. He kept his eyes on the road and said, "Prudence doesn't like the windows down, she worries a bug will get in. And don't mess up the things on the passenger seat. Prudence, she..."

Listening to him go on and on with his reminders, I didn't answer. I just quietly turned my head back to the window, my thoughts drifting far.

At nineteen I was there beside Charles while he built his company. Back then we lived in a two-hundred-square-foot basement, inseparable, unwilling to be apart for a single second.

Just after my twenty-second birthday, Charles couldn't wait to drag me to the courthouse at the crack of dawn to register the marriage. He even went around telling everyone that Charles Sanchez had finally married the girl he loved.

At twenty-four I gave him a son, nicknamed Sammy. He said, "This child came into our lives like a star, brilliant and shining."

But at twenty-nine, I lost Sammy forever, and the one to blame was the very woman in Charles's marriage alliance—Prudence Pruitt.

After I found out the truth, I appealed like a woman possessed, only to be turned down every single time.

Later the Pruitts told me it was Charles who had helped Prudence escape charges behind the scenes, and they promised that if I would only come back to the Pruitts, they'd help me get justice.

At first I didn't believe Charles had that kind of reach. Back when our funding fell through, we were buried in enormous debt, scraping by every day. He drove for Uber and picked up delivery gigs between fares.

And I wished I could split every hour in two, working five or six jobs a day, sleeping less than three hours a night.

Until today, when I received that filthy video and heard Charles's confession.

I saw the man beside my pillow for exactly what he was.

Ten years of marriage. Nothing more than this.

After the divorce papers were finalized, the corners of Charles's mouth lifted slightly, the way they did when he was in a very good mood.

"Lulu, don't worry, a month from now I'll divorce her and remarry you. My heart has always been with you."

As he finished, his phone rang. He saw the name on the screen, and tenderness instantly flooded his eyes, his voice softening without his even realizing it. "Prudence, missing me? Okay... I'm heading back right now, it's all taken care of..."

Charles brushed past me.

The words I hadn't finished paused for three seconds before I slowly let them out. "There won't be any remarriage. Because I'm marrying someone else."

After the cab dropped me home, I started clearing out everything Charles had given me over the years.

A ring made from a soda-can tab, a crown woven from wild grass, love letters he'd handwritten and printed…

Less than an hour of sorting, and it all fit into two boxes. Almost nothing in them was worth a cent.

Even this cramped, run-down apartment was something I'd only been able to rent by working five or six jobs at once, and I was still three months behind on the rent.

I looked at those two boxes of cheap little things, and they looked back like a mirror of my marriage—cheap, and stripped of any dignity.

Because it was worthless, it was never worth cherishing.

Something gnawed at my chest like a million termites, a thick, crawling ache, until my eyes reddened and my vision blurred.

I carried the two boxes downstairs and, piece by piece, began to burn them.

As if I were saying goodbye to the person I used to be.

Then a startled voice cut in: "Ahem… what's wrong with you, you little maid? Still out here burning things to make offerings to the dead? How unlucky can you get!"

I turned. It was Prudence Pruitt, dressed head to toe in wealth.

The girl my parents had once sponsored. Later she became my adoptive sister.

When Prudence saw me, there was no surprise in her eyes—only a haughty, gloating triumph and a taunt she couldn't wait to throw.

"Well, if it isn't Prudence Pruitt—oh, wait, that's not right. I heard you changed your name. What is it now, Louise Mason? You took your dead mother's surname. Doesn't the bad luck bother you?"

My gaze darkened. I warned her, "Prudence. Watch your mouth."

She covered her lips and laughed softly, saying it on purpose. "Your mom's been dead, what, twelve years now? And you still can't let her go? Figures. Trash raises trash."

Fury boiled up from somewhere deep, and I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.

She didn't flinch. Instead, something calculating flickered in her eyes, and behind it, the pleasure of getting exactly what she wanted.

The next second, my left cheek exploded with pain, and I hit the ground with no chance to catch myself.

I looked up and saw Charles frantically helping Prudence up, his eyes full of concern for her. "Are you okay? It looks swollen. Let me get you some ice first."

"Actually, let's just go straight to the hospital. Don't worry, I'm here. Nothing bad is going to happen."

With that, Charles scooped Prudence up in his arms, turned, and walked off.

From beginning to end, he never once looked at me.

I watched his retreating back, and all at once I remembered a time when some thugs had harassed me at one of my jobs, and Charles had said the very same thing.

He'd said, "Don't worry, I'm here. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Later I asked him, "Have you ever said that to other girls too?"

He answered without a shred of hesitation, "Never. If a day like that ever came, it would only mean I'd fallen for someone else."

Now those words were his to give to Prudence.

Every word of explanation I wanted to give jammed in my throat, and not a single one would come out.

Grievance is meant for the ears of someone who cares. Explanations are meant for someone who'll judge you fairly.

Just as I was about to leave, five or six bodyguards suddenly barged in. Two of them stepped forward, pinned down my shoulders, and forced me to my knees.

My knees slammed hard against the concrete floor, the pain wrenching my brows together.

Someone was fiddling with a phone in front of me, seemingly recording a livestream or a video.

Someone else stood over me, slapping me across the face, one blow after another.

I lost count of how many times. My vision burst with stars, my cheeks swollen so badly I couldn't even close my mouth, blood mixing with saliva as it ran down my chin.

Then, all at once, I felt them stop. Everything around me fell silent.

I heard Charles's voice clearly on the other end of the phone.

"Prudence, did that make you feel better? If it's not enough, let's make it another hundred, how about that…"

I couldn't take in another word after that. My vision went black, and I passed out cold.

When I woke again, Charles was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of porridge and blowing on it to cool it.

"You're awake. Eat something first." Charles pushed the seafood porridge toward me.

I turned my head away to avoid it.

Charles's brows drew together slightly. "Are you angry? Yesterday, that business with you hitting Prudence upset the Pruitts. They wanted me to give them an explanation."

"I admit I went too far there. But I've already transferred two villas into your name. Consider it compensation. Stop making a scene and hurry up and eat."

"I'm allergic to seafood." I frowned in disgust and shrank back, keeping clear of that bowl of seafood porridge.

Charles froze at that, his hand suspended in midair. It was a long moment before he spoke. "Sorry. I saw it on the way and just grabbed it."

I turned my face aside and ignored him.

Charles was quiet for a moment. "That…"

A phone rang, cutting him off.

The instant he answered, Prudence's syrupy little voice came through. "Charlie~ where are you? I feel so awful…"

"I'm out buying food. I'll be right back."

Charles stood as he spoke, picking up the fancy takeout box from the small table beside him and leaving. Not once did he spare me another glance.

Back when Charles and I were madly in love, the slightest thing wrong with me and he'd be beside himself with worry.

Even if I only scraped my skin, he'd insist on checking me into the hospital for observation.

Back then, we'd just failed at our first business venture and were hundreds of thousands in debt. Whatever money he had, he spent every cent of it on me.

He'd said, "You're my wife. If I'm not good to you, who would I be good to? Be good. I'll give you the luxury cars and the mansion someday. That's no empty promise."

I thought I'd met the love of my life.

But in the end it was nothing more than a dreamlike swindle dressed up as love.

The buzz of my phone pulled me back from my thoughts. I lowered my eyes to look. It was a message from Charles.

【The divorce will be finalized in six days. Don't stir up trouble in the meantime. Once I've secured the Pruitts' core technology, I'll remarry you.】

Remarry, again.

I set the phone down, too listless even to reply.

In Charles's mind, I was the lover he could never drive away, and more than that, the wife who slaved without complaint and served him willingly.

Too bad he'd forgotten.

I too had once said, "If the day comes that you betray me, I'll turn around and leave without a second's hesitation. I'll never give you another chance."

On my second day in the hospital, I was taking a midday nap when the shut door was kicked open.

Charles was at the front, fury on his face, staring at me. "Where did you hide Prudence's wedding ring?"

My eyes went blank. "What wedding ring?"

"It's the wedding ring Charlie had custom-made just for me. There's only one of its kind in the world. Yesterday he said he'd bring it to cheer me up, but who'd have thought the box would be empty…"

Prudence stepped out from behind Charles, feigning grievance as she asked, "Excuse me, have you seen that ring? It's the one we're going to use for our wedding. It means a great deal to me."

"If you really love the ring so much, I—I can have Charlie buy you another style. Please, I'm begging you, give that ring back to me."