I got with Brandon when I was 19. At that time, Dad had fallen victim to a scheme and owed loan sharks money for construction payments. The debt collectors drove him to jump from a building.

Eventually, Mom abandoned our family to become a wealthy overseas businessman's mistress and fled the country. Only my seriously ill grandmother and I were left to rely on each other.

I worked various part-time jobs during the day and at a nightclub in the evenings to earn money for tuition and Grandma's medical bills.

Once, I encountered a difficult drunk customer who cornered me. He hissed, "You're working at a nightclub and still playing hard to get? I'm going to have you today no matter what."

I broke a glass, cut him with it, and as I fled through the door with bloody hands, I crashed right into Brandon's arms. He was the club's behind-the-scenes owner, and I had heard about him—ruthless, cold-blooded, and with a terrible reputation.

Later, I heard Brandon's associate say, "In all these years, this is the first time I've seen Bran go soft for a woman."

He helped pay Grandma's medical bills and found her the best private hospital. His way of pursuing me was straightforward. He showered me with money, and I could have anything I wanted within his means.

Others described him as cold-blooded, merciless, and decisive. But with me, he was devoted, gentle, and responsible. I fell for him quickly, and on my 20th birthday, he coaxed me into my first time. Once I had a taste, I knew I wanted more, and we completely became one.

Gradually, I began to understand Brandon's business. A significant portion of his enterprises operated in gray areas, with all sorts of people working under him.

His associates had warned him, "Bran, in our line of work, having a weakness is taboo. Your woman is too innocent, she'll hold you back."

What they did was dangerous work, walking on a knife's edge where one misstep could mean disaster. I promised, "Brandon, I won't become your burden, trust me."

The way he looked at me then was so tender it could have drowned me. So, I hardened my resolve. From a delicate girl who got winded just from running, to someone who could take down three men with her bare hands—it only took me two years. Even his associates were amazed that my shooting skills eventually surpassed Brandon's.

Later, for the sake of Brandon's business, I cut my hair short, got tattoos, and collected countless scars. I became Brandon's most reliable support, managing his operations efficiently—I was no longer his burden.

However, Brandon wasn't happy about it. On countless drunken nights, he would gently trace my tattoos and scars, sighing softly. "Cami, I wish we could go back to ten years ago. I still prefer the way you were then."

I knew it was drunk talk, but it was also his true feelings. After everything we'd been through, my heart had hardened. Even so, I couldn't help feeling hurt.

I thought, "Brandon Schmidt, you're such a fucking heartless bastard. The youthful, bright, and pure Carmelia from ten years ago died along the path of fighting alongside you."

...

When Brandon came home, it was already late at night. He habitually pulled me into his arms, but when he tried to kiss the top of my head, he missed. He asked, "Why aren't you asleep yet?"

I didn't answer him, which caught him off guard. He pressed, "What's wrong? Who upset you? I'll take care of them."

He still had traces of orange-scented perfume on him—I never used anything that sweet. I looked up at him and said, "Your little pet crossed the line."

He frowned and let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, Cami. I didn't know she would come looking for you."

I placed the finalized bid documents into a folder and sealed it, casually lighting a cigarette. "You know my methods. If there's a next time, she'll end up dead or crippled—I've never been a patient person. She says she's pregnant. I have no interest in raising a bastard child, so you have one week. If the child still exists after that, I'll handle it myself."

I once suffered a severe injury while saving Brandon. The doctors informed us that I could never have children of my own. Then, Brandon told me he didn't want children, that we would live lovingly together for a lifetime. He said our relationship didn't need children to prove its worth.

I believed him and his words.

When Brandon remained silent for a long time, I let out a soft snort. His eyes met mine, and I noticed that they held hesitation and reluctance.

He said, "Cami, I'll handle the child. Don't touch her."

I found this curious. "What's this? Getting soft?"

He anxiously rubbed his brow, "Cami, you two aren't the same. She's too pure and innocent—she's no match for you."

The word "pure" stung me. Distant yet deeply carved memories came flooding back, making my heart ache. So, it was purity that he liked after all.

Seven years ago, Brandon was betrayed by a trusted associate during a shipment run, losing both the cargo and being kidnapped. In Harbor City's underworld, everyone knew who was behind it.

They were jealous of Brandon's meteoric rise as a "newcomer" in the business and had conspired to set him up. To humiliate Brandon, they said they would release him if I entertained their boss. We had just gotten married then and were deeply in love.

Murder might end a life, but this was designed to destroy the soul.

I was terrified. In the video they sent, he was covered in blood, having gone two days and nights without water, looking frighteningly pale.

Eventually, I approached his enemies on my own. I knew what I would endure, but I would do anything as long as Brandon could live.

Two days later, I was delivered to the hospital, barely clothed. They released Brandon as promised, but they had despicably recorded videos of everything. In the footage, I was on my knees, actively begging while enduring multiple men's brutality. They even sent a backup copy to Brandon.

He only saw the thumbnail before going berserk.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry, and we huddled together, sleepless for many nights. He swore that those who violated me would pay the price and that he would kill them with his own hands. Later, he did exactly that, consuming all their territories.

Afterward, Brandon desperately begged all those who knew to keep silent about the incident. He paid with both money and his dignity. But at some point, he began to change. Young, "pure" girls started appearing around him one after another. I suddenly realized that people's hearts do change.

...

Brandon stood on the balcony smoking when his phone suddenly rang. He irritably hung up, but the caller persisted.

Finally, Brandon answered. The girl's soft crying came through, but I couldn't understand what she said. He cursed under his breath, "What a nuisance."

Then, he turned to me and said, "There's an issue at the port that I need to handle. You should rest first."

After that, he hurried out, not returning all night. He knew exactly where my boundaries lay. After going through so much together, I could accept everything about him.

I wasn't fond of sex, so I didn't care how many women he sought for release. However, I couldn't accept him truly falling in love with another woman and letting her get pregnant.

He felt sorry that I had suffered so much for him, becoming "unrecognizable". So, when he saw Luna, who resembled my younger self so much, he couldn't help but soften, wanting to protect her.

Yet, the person who had suffered alongside him was right beside him, so why care about a mere shadow? In the decade we shared, the last eight as husband and wife, I had lived almost entirely for Brandon's sake. Now I just felt so tired, so exhausted. I could not help but think I just wanted to be Carmelia again.

After waking up at noon, I calculated my available funds and shares. I contacted my private lawyer and drafted divorce papers. When love had run dry, substantial financial compensation became necessary—this was what he owed me, what I deserved.

Brandon and I were required to attend an afternoon bidding for a crucial company project. However, he never showed up, and his phone was unreachable.

Harbor City's hundred-acre development project—the biggest in our company's history—and he was absent. His driver hemmed and hawed for a long time before finally giving me an address—Mercy Hospital. I was so angry I wanted to laugh.

After the meeting ended, I went straight to the hospital. Luna was lying alone in a VIP room.

She looked at me innocently and said, "Cami, why are you here?"

"Where's Brandon?" I asked.

"Bran went to pay the bill," she said as she tilted her head to reveal faint hickeys on her neck. "He was too rough yesterday. My body couldn't handle it, and the doctor just told me I should keep him under control."

I removed my cufflinks, rolled up my sleeve, and reached toward her stomach, which scared her into scrambling up into a sitting position. I mocked, "If you know enough to be scared, then shut up!"

What a stupid girl.

Luna scoffed, "Do you know why Bran insisted on coming to me yesterday? I told him I was wearing my school uniform, and he came right away. He loves doing it with me so much. He hasn't touched you in a long time, has he? We did it four times last night—once in the car, once in the bathroom, once on the balcony, and once..."

I cut her off, "Have some dignity. How is this any different from streaming porn?"

I looked at her with pity and added, "You actually believe what men say in bed? If he truly loved you, he wouldn't have sent you to the hospital while you're pregnant."

After all, love meant restraint.

However, Luna was a bit indignant and took out her phone to play me a video. The angle was discreet, as if secretly recorded. In the video, she was hugging Brandon from behind while crying, "I don't want anything else, I just want you. Please, let me keep this baby, okay?"

Brandon pushed her away, "I'm not going to get divorced."

"Is it because of responsibility? You clearly love me, so why are you lying? Was your promise to protect me for life also a lie?"

Brandon handed her a bank card and said, "There's enough money here to last you a lifetime. Get rid of the baby."

"It's not about comparing with Cami. I just don't desire her, but she's the most important person to me. I won't divorce her."

Luna threw the bank card away, "I don't want it! I told you I don't want money! I only want you. Please. I won't be a burden to you. I'll try very, very hard. Trust me, okay?"

Brandon paused for a moment, staring at Luna's face as if in a trance. Then, he kissed her as if he'd gone mad.

The video abruptly ended, and I tossed the phone back to her, feeling bitter inside. I asked, "He already said he won't divorce me, so what are you gloating about?"

My calmness infuriated her, "Carmelia Sanders! He's not leaving you because of guilt, not love! I don't believe this guilt can last a lifetime! Every time he gets drunk, he holds me and tells me you're so dirty."

My mind buzzed, and I felt my heart beating frighteningly fast. I stared at her intensely, "What did Brandon tell you?"

Luna looked at me triumphantly, "Yes, he told me everything. I've seen the video too. I never would have thought that someone who looks as cold as you would kneel and beg men, with such a big appetite—three men..."

She continued, "Whenever he can't get aroused, he uses your video as background, and it works immediately. He says every time he thinks about you begging other men, he feels disgusted and humiliated..."

Blood instantly rushed to my head. I stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her off the bed.