After skillfully bidding farewell to all the guests, I made a phone call.

"Does the promise we made ten years ago still hold?"

A soft chuckle came from the other end of the line: "It does."

After hanging up, I noticed the news about Steven's public scene for a woman had already made the headlines.

Ignoring the auction rules, he stormed into the private room, shelled out two million dollars, and left with Zayla, having fought off all the other bidders.

Under that headline, gossip-fueled comments poured in, with only a few voices mentioning that Steven was engaged. These, however, were quickly drowned out by comments like, "The person who lacks love is the outsider."

Zayla's latest Facebook update read:

"Three years of waiting, and today my dream finally came true~"

The accompanying photo showed clothes strewn across the floor and a hint of red on the sheets, along with Steven sleeping peacefully.

I didn’t collapse in anger like I had the previous 98 times. Instead, I simply liked the post and commented, "99."

Not even thirty minutes later, Steven's call came through.

"It took me forever to calm Zayla down, and now you're leaving cryptic comments again?"

"I promise you, this is the last time. She won't cause trouble again."

I can't recall how many times Steven has said, "This is the last time."

At our first wedding attempt, Zayla threatened suicide.

At the second, she faked a pregnancy.

At the third, she threw a hundred grand in my face, demanding I leave Steven.

Each time Zayla made a scene, and each time, Steven allowed it.

The only explanation he'd ever offer was, "This is the last time."

Yet each new incident arrived right on cue.

I finally understood that a man's promises often mean nothing.

So, I calmly said:

"Steven, there won't be a next time. Let's end this."

A long silence stretched on the line before he finally hung up.

When I got home, I found the locks had been changed.

Just as I was about to call a locksmith, the door opened.

Zayla leaned smugly against the doorframe, wearing my silk pajama top.

"Steven was worried about me being out there alone, so he let me stay here. Oh, he didn’t tell you?"

As she spoke, I saw Steven approach, shirtless, his chest marked with hickeys and scratches.

"Zayla's still a bit fragile, so I thought she could stay here for a while," he explained. "I was concerned she wouldn't remember the old passcode, so I changed it to her birthday."

I nodded and walked past him into the house.

When I started packing my suitcase, panic flashed across Steven's face.

"Where are you going?"

It seemed he'd forgotten that I'd suggested we break up only half an hour ago.

He wrapped his arms around me without a second thought, "How about we spend Christmas in Iceland next month and watch the Northern Lights?"

Before he could finish, Zayla let out a soft, pained sound from the doorway.

"Zayla, what's the matter?"

Steven's attention shifted instantly.

He looked at Zayla with undeniable concern.

"Steven, my chest feels tight; maybe it’s a reaction from the auction incense."

Without hesitation, Steven picked her up and carried her inside, not even glancing back at me.

As the bedroom door closed, I met Zayla's triumphant expression.

I chuckled lightly.

I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to put in so much effort.

A few minutes later, sounds came from the master bedroom that would make anyone blush.

I sighed softly.

My heart didn’t ache as I expected, but instead felt a sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted.

They got what they wanted, and now I would fulfill my own promise from ten years ago.

I gathered all my documents and found a nearby hotel to stay for the night. My plan was to head straight to the airport the next morning. However, at the crack of dawn, Steven Cooper burst into my hotel room.

He looked like a man possessed, his face contorted with anger as he grabbed my hair and yanked me out of bed. "Ariana Hansen, how can you be so cruel? Zayla only loves me too much; what did she ever do to deserve this?"

The pain in my scalp left me breathless. Tears filled my eyes as I asked him, "What have I done?"

Steven angrily tossed his phone at me, saying, "You not only secretly recorded videos of Zayla and posted them online, but also smeared her as the other woman, trying to ruin her reputation."

"Do you know she nearly jumped off a bridge because of this?"

Looking at the headlines on his phone, I immediately recognized it as another one of Zayla Stephens’ ploys. I laughed bitterly, "I didn’t post that video, and the internet isn't wrong. Isn't Zayla the other woman?"

Steven, incensed yet mocking, dragged me by the hair out of the room and didn’t let go until we reached the hotel rooftop, where he finally released his grip.

He crouched down, gripping my jaw with vicious intent. "Ariana, you’re going live right now to confess that you came between me and Zayla, and then you're going to kneel and apologize to her. Do that, and this nightmare ends."

Tears rolled down my face from the pain, but I refused to beg for mercy. Steven said "Fine" three times, and his bodyguard restrained my hands, leaving me dangling high above the ground with a rope.

Looking down made me dizzy. Memories of nearly being thrown off a cliff by criminals when I was younger flooded back, draining color from my cheeks. My voice trembled uncontrollably, "Steven... I didn’t post the video online. Please, pull me up..."

His voice echoed ominously above me, "If not you, then who? I gave you a chance, but you threw it away." He then instructed the bodyguard, "Take pictures of her like this and send them to Zayla. Once Zayla's anger cools off, we'll pull her up."

I didn’t know how long I hung there, only aware of my racing heart and churning stomach. My breaths were rapid, and just before I blacked out, I saw Steven kiss his phone screen with devotion.

When I came to, I was lying on the cold concrete floor. Feeling the ground beneath me brought a hint of relief. Just when I thought Steven’s torment had ended, he appeared again, angrier than ever.

Before I could speak, he kicked me hard in the chest, making me cough up blood. But his rage wasn’t satisfied. He yanked me by the collar and slapped me twice.

"Ariana, so you’re the one who called my parents, telling them I had died in the earthquake!"

"It’s because of you they had the car accident that ended their lives!"

"They treated you so well, how could you do something so unforgivable? You’re nothing but a monster!"

He didn’t give me a chance to defend myself, dragging me to the car and speeding off. During the ride, he drove at breakneck speed, leaving me nauseated from dizziness. Our destination was Steven's parents' gravesite.

I knelt before their gravestones, with the bodyguard forcing my head down into repeated bows. By the time I stopped, my forehead was a bloody mess, blood streaming down my face, leaving me looking ghastly.

But Steven didn’t blink, merely watching me with cold eyes. "Ariana, sparing your life for my parents' deaths is merciful enough."

"You have to kneel at my parents' grave for three days and three nights..."

Before he could finish, I let out a bitter laugh, "Steven, you believe everything Zayla tells you. You’re the biggest fool in the world, and I’m just thankful I never married you."

His hand hesitated, then he slapped me again, "Even now, you dare to bring Zayla into this!"

The world spun around me, the scenery blurring uncontrollably. Ariana, this was the man you loved wholeheartedly for years, but he’s not worth it!

With my last ounce of strength, I looked up at Steven, my voice unexpectedly calm, "Steven, I don’t admit to any of the things you’ve accused me of. Even if you beat me to death, it wasn’t me!"