When I got home, I came face to face with Stanley. There was a softness in his voice.

　　"Cindy, don't take the talk online to heart. It's only temporary."

　　"Did you watch the video?" I cut straight to it.

　　His eyes flickered. He tried to change the subject. "Stop going after Sam from now on. She's a new artist my company signed. She's going to make me a fortune. Once she's earning, I can buy you anything you like."

　　"I asked you a question. The video I sent you, did you watch it?" My face was blank as I pressed him.

　　I already knew the answer in my heart, but I still wanted to hear him admit it with his own mouth.

　　"No." Stanley let out a helpless sigh. "It's already happened. There's no undoing it. Why do you have to keep clinging to it?"

　　By the end, a thread of resentment had crept into his voice.

　　My throat went bitter, as if a wad of wet cotton were jammed tight against it, and I couldn't force out a single sound.

　　In that moment my heart cramped with pain, and it felt like all the blood in my body had frozen solid.

　　Seeing me say nothing, Stanley assumed I'd taken it in. Relieved, he said, "There. Go apologize to Sam, and this whole thing blows over."

　　I dodged the hand he reached toward me and bit back my temper as I demanded, "Why was the villa's keypad code changed? Why won't you admit Sammy was your son? Why would you rather believe a stranger than believe me?"

　　"Stanley, we've known each other eight years. Don't you understand me at all by now?"

　　He met my questions with a flat gaze, his brow knitting faintly. "Cindy, stop making a scene."

　　"I don't know where you got these absurd conclusions, but you are not to touch Sam. Understand?"

　　"Stanley, can you live with yourself? I kept our marriage a secret for you, I went through everything to bring our child into the world for you, for you I—"

　　I hadn't finished when Stanley cut me off, his voice low. "Did I tell you to do any of that?"

　　His tone turned glacial. "Wasn't all of it your own choice? Did I force you to have the child? Did I force you to spend your life with me?"

　　"Cindy, don't act like I owe you something. Sam came into my life when I needed her most, and that was the moment I realized who it was I really loved. But I still have a conscience. I didn't divorce you."

　　"You should count yourself lucky, Cindy. Don't keep testing my patience. Be good and go apologize to Sam. Otherwise... I can't promise where your son's ashes might end up scattered."

　　It was as though a pair of merciless hands had torn my heart wide open. The violent pain left me unable to come back to myself for the longest time.

　　I didn't even notice when Stanley left.

　　By the time I came around, my body had gone numb, my limbs cold to the point that I couldn't move.

　　For Samantha, Stanley could actually stoop this low.

　　I gave a bitter, mocking laugh inside.

　　There was a time when some fool with no sense tried to harass me, and Stanley threw himself into a fight without a word. Afterward he pulled strings and had the man locked up.

　　I remembered how, covered in bruises, he'd said, "You're mine. No one gets to touch you. Now that you're with me, I will never let you be wronged."

　　But every bit of bitterness and grief I carried now had come from Stanley himself.

　　For the sake of Sammy's ashes, I still chose to go to the hospital. Before that, I took a shower and changed into clean clothes.

　　When I arrived, I took the VIP entrance and didn't run into anyone irrational.

　　The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Stanley feeding Samantha rabbit-shaped apple slices with his own hand.

　　My expression froze for a beat. Then, after a moment, I let it go.

　　So Stanley's tenderness could be handed to anyone, anytime.

　　His love really was cheap.

　　"You're here?" Stanley glanced at me, set down the dainty fruit plate, and picked up the plastic container beside it to hand to me. "Saved these for you."

　　I gave it a careless glance. Inside were nothing but scattered, irregular chunks of pulp, obviously the scraps left over from carving his rabbit-shaped apple slices.

　　I still remembered how, after Stanley first stumbled across one of those videos, he'd thrown himself into trying it, nicking his fingers three times before he finally produced a single perfect little apple rabbit.

　　Back then I'd teased him, laughing, "You're getting this good at it. Which little sweetheart are you trying to win over?"

　　He'd pulled me close, doting all over me, flicked the tip of my nose, and said, "Who else would I bother for, except my own little tyrant? I'll never make these for anyone else as long as I live. If I do, may I get hit by a car the second I step out the door."

　　Pity. Promises only hold while love does.

　　I didn't know exactly when Stanley's heart had turned, but I'd traced it back: Samantha first appeared on his radar two years ago.

　　Seeing that I didn't take the container, Stanley frowned.

　　On the hospital bed, Samantha lay pale and fragile, her voice soft and pitiful. "Miss Stephens, do you find dear Stanley beneath you? He didn't make you a rabbit, sure, but he set some aside just for you."

　　"If you throw his kindness back at him like this, you'll break his heart. And then that child's ashes, I'm afraid, might just..."

　　I didn't miss the malice glittering at the bottom of her eyes.

　　She was provoking me on purpose. Threatening me.

　　Stanley set the things down hard. "Sam, watch what you say."

　　He looked at me, his gaze calm, as though looking at a stranger passing on the street.

　　"Since you came to apologize, don't just stand there."

　　I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms, and I didn't even feel it.

　　No physical pain could touch even a fraction of what my heart was going through.

　　Watching Stanley flaunt his favoritism so openly, my chest twisted in agony.

　　"So as long as I apologize sincerely enough, you'll give me my child's ashes?"

　　I couldn't be sure my father would actually get those ashes, and I didn't dare gamble on either side's conscience.

　　Stanley's face darkened, displeased. "What are you questioning? You think I'd lie to you? Sam is kind and generous. All she's asking is an apology."

　　"Fine." I nodded.

　　I bowed ninety degrees toward Samantha and said, every word landing hard, "I'm sorry, Samantha. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I shouldn't have refused to repent and apologize."

　　I held the bow for a full three minutes before I straightened up and asked Stanley, "Is that enough?"

　　Stanley's expression shifted slightly. He stopped putting on airs. "I'll have the ashes sent back this afternoon."

　　Even with his word, I still couldn't rest easy, and pressed him. "Stanley. Remember what you said."

　　Stanley waved an impatient hand. "I won't forget."

　　After leaving the hospital, I went back to the villa and picked up where I'd left off, clearing things out. Over the years I'd bought plenty of furniture, decorations, and the like.

　　I packed all of it up to sell.

　　Every piece had been paid for with my own money, back before I got pregnant.

　　Later, after the baby came, Stanley couldn't bear to see me keep working, and since the child needed someone there, he talked it over with me. "Stay home and raise our son. I'll go out and earn the money to take care of you both."

　　He called it talking it over, but the truth was Stanley never left me any room to maneuver.

　　Once I'd dealt with everything and was about to lie down on the bed for a moment, Stanley barged in, bodyguards trailing behind him.

　　Before I could get a word out, Stanley spoke first. "Cindy Stephens, I actually thought you'd truly repented. I never imagined you'd be vicious enough to want Sam dead!"

　　Another crime pinned on me. Made up out of thin air.

　　I didn't even have the strength left to argue.

　　No matter what I said, Stanley wouldn't hear a word of it.

　　A conversation I'd overheard in the stairwell a few days ago came back to me all at once. Stanley had said, "I trust her."

　　That "her" was, without question, Samantha.

　　So even if I hadn't pushed her, Stanley would still believe Samantha over me.

　　My heart sank, inch by inch, and the look I gave Stanley grew calmer and calmer.

　　Stanley caught my gaze, and something jolted in his chest. For one instant, a flash of panic told him the two of us were drifting further and further apart.

　　He came back to himself, his face grim as he stared at me. "Do you admit it or not?"

　　I curled my lip and said, with a sneer, "Whether I admit it or not, you've already passed your verdict, haven't you?"

　　"You—!" He was clearly furious.

　　Fair enough. This was the first time I'd ever talked back to him. No wonder he was this angry.

　　Before I found out Stanley had cheated, before I lost Sammy, I'd done everything he asked. Whatever he said, I obeyed.

　　"You won't repent even to the grave." His voice went cold. "Take her to the cold-storage room. Let her cool off and think hard about what she's done wrong."

　　I didn't resist. I let them lead me away.

　　The moment I stepped into the cold-storage room, I knew something was wrong.

　　A pair of green eyes glowed in the dark, fixed on me.

　　My heart stopped. Why was there an attack dog in here?!

　　It charged. I pounded on the door with everything I had, begging, "Help! Open the door! There's an attack dog in here!"

　　"You locked an attack dog in with me! Stanley, let me out! Somebody help!"

　　Its teeth clamped down on my calf and I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain. The cold storage was freezing. They'd put this dog in here on purpose. They wanted me dead, right here.

　　No.

　　I couldn't die here!

　　I hadn't gotten Sammy's ashes back yet!

　　I hadn't broken free of the Vance family for good!

　　I lifted my arm and swung at the dog's head, wild and clumsy, the arc shrinking with every blow as my body stiffened in the cold.

　　The dog let go, looking for a fresh spot to tear into.

　　Out of the corner of my eye I spotted an icicle frozen along the doorframe. No time to think. I grabbed it and drove it into the dog.

　　It bit into my arm first, but I felt nothing. I just kept stabbing with the icicle, again and again, blood spraying everywhere. I didn't care.

　　Not until the dog went completely still. And the door opened, right then.

　　I saw the worried look on Stanley's face.

　　The strain of it all and the body I'd run into the ground sent me crashing into the dark.

　　When I woke again, Stanley was sitting by the bed, eyes shut, feigning sleep, dark circles bruising under them.

　　I was just about to get up and pour myself some water when he startled awake first. Seeing me awake, his voice carried a note of reproach. "You're up. Why didn't you call me? Didn't you always order me around when you were sick before?"

　　He poured me a glass of water. I didn't refuse it.

　　Once my throat felt a little better, I spoke. "Where are Sammy's ashes?"

　　His eyes flickered. He set the glass down and explained, "That dog the other day was one I'd just bought. The help wasn't watching it for a second, and it got loose into the cold storage."

　　"But don't worry, I've already dealt with the beast. I only meant to lock you in for a few minutes. Are you feeling any discomfort right now?"

　　Watching him fuss like this, anxious and on edge, I felt almost like I was back in the early days, when Stanley and I were head over heels for each other.

　　Because of my parents, I'd grown up starved for love, drowning in low self-worth. It was Stanley who appeared and lit up my gray little life.

　　That day, I'd just gotten out of class and was heading off to eat when a basketball came flying at me. In the split second before it hit, Stanley threw himself forward, shielding me with his body.

　　He turned and asked, full of concern, "Hey, you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

　　That was the first time I'd ever tasted what it felt like to be cared for and respected.

　　After that, I fell for Stanley, hopelessly, unstoppably.

　　Under my relentless pursuit, Stanley agreed to be with me. Only later did I learn that he'd been about to come ask for my number that day. He just happened to see the ball coming at me, and so, as naturally as anything, we met.

　　Once we were together, Stanley took such good care of me. He even bought that basketball, swaggering as he said, "This is Cupid's Orb. It's what brought the two of us together. We've got to put it on a pedestal."

　　Back then I laughed at how childish he was, but inside, I felt warm all over.

　　The instant my thoughts came back to the present, I heard the words that dropped me straight into an ice pit.

　　"Since you're fine now, go write a ten-thousand-word apology letter. Take a picture, post it online, and say sorry to Sammy."