As soon as Savannah's words fell, a gentle voice buried them. "Sorry for being late."

Chantelle Stone walked in with her clicking heels. All eyes were on her.

She wrapped her arm around Hendrick's with a smile and intimately leaned against his shoulder.

Savannah quickly shut her eyes at their intimate display.

Chantelle had grown up with Hendrick, and she had been a ghost-like presence, haunting the couple and infiltrating their life since the start of their relationship.

Not once had he set a boundary with her. Instead, he indulged her every time she crossed one.

Of course, Savannah had suspected that Hendrick and Chantelle had been a thing. When she came across those love letters, however, she had a painful realization that Chantelle was merely a tool used to fuel her jealousy.

He simply adored watching Savannah burn with envy for him.

It was only then that Hendrick noticed Savannah standing at the door. He furrowed his eyebrows, asking, "What are you doing here?"

Savannah's grip tightened around her bag handle, and she belatedly realized he hadn't heard a word she had said.

"My necklace at home is missing," she said, staring at him. "I'm here to ask if you've seen it."

He was noticeably taken aback before his gaze darkened, clearly dissatisfied. "You're here just for that?"

"Yeah? Why else did you think I'd come?" she countered with a question.

Hendrick's expression immediately dimmed, and Savannah was all too familiar with what it conveyed. Every time she strayed from his script, he wore the same unamused expression, just like he did now.

"Are we thinking about the same necklace?" Chantelle suddenly chimed in. "I mentioned that I liked it previously, and Ricky decided to give it to me."

She then tilted her head, looking innocent. "But then, when I got home, I realized I'd accidentally lost it…"

A buzz pierced through Savannah's head at the moment, and blood instantly rushed to her head. "Who gave you the right to give away my stuff?"

"It's just a necklace," Hendrick coldly remarked. "You're overreacting. If it bothers you that much, I'll just buy you ten more identical ones."

"That was my mother's keepsake!" Savannah shouted, though her voice trembled with grief.

The private lounge plunged into another silence.

Though initially stunned, Hendrick quickly resumed his usual aloofness. "Well, it's gone now, so what do you expect me to do? You're blowing this way out of proportion."

Savannah was so furious that she bit down on her lip until the taste of iron seeped into her mouth.

That was her late mother's keepsake, and he dared to think she was throwing a tantrum for nothing. Was that his twisted way of loving her?

Knowing the necklace was irrecoverable, Savannah turned on her heels and walked away, sparing herself the breakdown that loomed just seconds ahead.

Then came the squeak of the leather seat as Hendrick rose to his feet. "That's it for tonight. Let's go."

He went after her.

As Savannah walked out of the club, the night wind stung her pink-flushed cheeks. She kept her head down and walked quickly, not wanting anyone to see her red-rimmed eyes.

Suddenly, a loud creak sounded above her. Before she could react, someone behind her shouted, "Watch out!"

When Savannah looked up, she saw a huge billboard falling straight toward her. In a flash, Hendrick lunged toward her.

However, just as their eyes met, he suddenly changed direction and threw himself over Chantelle to shield her instead.

Following a bang, excruciating pain and deep sadness spread over Savannah. Hendrick was willing to risk her life like that, just to keep his feelings for her a secret. How ironic.

When she woke up, all she saw was a pale white ceiling. She turned her head slowly, her neck aching, and saw an empty hospital room.

At that moment, a nurse pushed open the door and walked in with fresh bandages.

"You're up," the nurse said. "You've been out for two days. Lucky for you, it's just a mild concussion."

"Who sent me to the hospital?" Savannah asked hoarsely, her throat dry.

"Your husband, of course." The nurse adjusted the IV drip, continuing, "You were covered in blood when they brought you in, and he was frantic. He almost tore the whole hospital apart."

She paused, then added with a puzzled look, "Strangely, though, when the doctor said you'd wake up soon, he rushed off, said he had something urgent to take care of. Odd, isn't it?"

Savannah closed her eyes, a bitter smile crawling across her lips.

No, it wasn't odd. Hendrick would rather risk her life than show his true feelings, after all.

Hendrick was a no-show at the hospital for the following days. It wasn't until Savannah was preparing her discharge that she finally saw him.

He and Chantelle stood at her ward's door. She clung to his arm, her complexion rosy and visibly healthy.

"You're healing so fast, Savannah. Unlike me, I've always been sickly since I was a kid. I just had a little cold, but Ricky freaked out and insisted on dragging me here for a checkup," Chantelle said with a playful pout.

Meanwhile, Savannah calmly packed her bag, not lifting her head once.

Hendrick's gaze lingered on her face, as though searching for a trace of emotion.

Suddenly, he said, "I thought I'd come pick you up while we're here. Elle's place is undergoing a renovation, so she'll be moving in with us for the next few days."

"Oh." Savannah zipped her bag, nonchalantly replying, "Sure."

Once the one-month divorce waiting period was over, they would have nothing to do with each other. Who he wanted to live with after that was none of her business.

At her indifference, Hendrick's expression darkened instantly.

Back at the villa, he acted all close and affectionate with Chantelle right in front of Savannah. No matter how much he tried to get a reaction, Savannah stayed completely unmoved.

At dinner, he fed Chantelle food, while Savannah chewed mechanically, the food tasting like cardboard.

Suddenly, Chantelle let out a scream. She scratched her arm and mumbled, "It's so itchy…"

Savannah looked up and saw large red rashes spreading across Chantelle's neck. Her breathing grew shallow and fast.

Immediately, Hendrick picked her up and shouted, "Call the doctor!"

Soon, their private doctor arrived. Chantelle was diagnosed with a peanut allergy.

Hendrick's face grew stormy as he called the servant over, interrogating, "How many times have I reminded you? Elle is allergic to peanuts! Why was there peanut butter in our dinner?"

The servant, Sammy Larson, lowered her head, nervously twisting the edge of her apron, eyes flickering toward Savannah.

"Mrs. Cook made me do it… I'm sorry, Mr. Cook. I was just taking an order…"

Savannah jumped up in shock, and her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "When did I ever—"

"Please don't deny it, Mrs. Cook," Sammy interrupted, her voice raised. "You said it yourself, you couldn't stand Ms. Stone moving in. You were jealous of how Mr. Cook treats her, so you told us to teach her a lesson."

"Savannah."

Then came Hendrick's cold-plunged voice. He stepped forward, each step echoing sharply on the marble floor.

"Since the day at the courthouse, you've been quiet—and I thought you'd finally learned. But I never expected you'd be scheming against Elle instead!"

He looked down at her, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through her thoughts.

Savannah was just about to speak in her defense when she suddenly froze. She saw it—a faint, fleeting smile tugging at the corner of Hendrick's lips. It vanished almost instantly, but it had been real.

"Since you had the audacity to trigger Elle's allergy," he said as he turned to the wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of strong liquor, "You should know how it feels, too."

The bottom of the glass bottle made a crisp sound as it hit the table.

A chill swept through Savannah, her back pressed against the cold wall. He knew she was allergic to alcohol—he had always known.

Two bodyguards pinned her shoulders from both sides, their rough fingers digging painfully into her skin. The liquor burned like fire as it was forced down her throat, scorching its way from her mouth to her stomach.

She coughed violently, tears oozing out from her eyes, but they still made her drink over half the bottle.

Soon, the familiar stinging sensation spread from deep within her skin. Red rashes bloomed across her neck and arms. Her breathing grew labored, and the world around her blurred into a haze.

Just before everything faded to black, the last thing she saw was Hendrick standing against the light, wearing an almost imperceptible smile.

He was actually smiling.

When she woke again, the bedroom was dimly lit by only a single warm wall lamp.

Hendrick sat at the edge of the bed, his long fingers flipping through a document. He looked up when he heard her stir.

"You're up," he said, closing the file. His tone was calm as if he were merely commenting on the weather. "Don't do it again."

Savannah forced herself to sit up, her throat burning with pain. She looked at the calm expression on his face, so much softer now.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The realization crushed her.

It was never about Chantelle's allergy because he didn't care about that at all. What he cared about was her recent indifference. What he desired was watching her jealous, unraveling for him.

As written in the letters locked away in that safe, he loved seeing her lose her mind over him; loved watching her spiral and become irrational…

Unfortunately, for Hendrick, Savannah wasn't about to continue this game with him.

In another 15 days, they would officially be divorced. By then, they would have nothing to do with each other.

Two days later, Chantelle's design won an excellence award. Hendrick threw a grand celebration party just for her.

Under the crystal chandeliers, he stayed by her side the whole time, blocking drinks for her, smoothing her dress, and being unbelievably gentle and attentive.

The guests whispered among themselves, saying how Hendrick treated Chantelle like a queen while acting coldly to his wife, Savannah. If the latter hadn't begged to save their marriage every time, it would've ended long ago.

Savannah stood in the corner, swirling her champagne glass and turning a deaf ear to the gossips. Halfway through the party, she headed near the man-made lake outside for some fresh air.

The cool night breeze carried away the lingering scent of alcohol.

"What's wrong? Are you finally cracking?"

Chantelle's smug, victorious voice came from behind. She clicked her heels and arrived beside Savannah, lips curling into a sarcastic smile.

"If I were you, I would've packed my bags and left to save myself from the humiliation long ago."

Savannah barely glanced in her direction. "Go away."

"What, you're acting all high and mighty now? You'd pursued Ricky for four years and been married to him for three, yet you still can't get him to look your way. Pathetic."

She sneered, continuing, "Believe me, even if I pushed you into the lake right now, he wouldn't bat an eye."

Savannah was suddenly slammed by a strong force. She fell into the lake with a loud splash, and the cold water instantly entered her mouth and nose.

She struggled to scream, only to swallow more water in the process.

Amid her haze, she saw a figure charging wildly toward her and diving into the lake without hesitation.

"Sav!" Hendrick screamed frantically like never before as he swam furiously to her.

He wrapped his arm tightly around her, and in her daze, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were filled with such raw fear and urgency that, for a moment, she felt stunned.

Standing on the shore, Chantelle was completely frozen, unable to believe what she was seeing. The man who was always cold and distant toward Savannah was now diving into the lake like a madman.

The way he held her felt like he was protecting a precious treasure he had just recovered.

No, this couldn't be right. She had to be mistaken!

After being pulled ashore, Hendrick knelt and performed CPR on Savannah.

His long fingers were visibly trembling. Only when Savannah coughed up a few mouthfuls of water did he finally exhale in relief.

Yet, the next moment, his expression suddenly stiffened, as if something had dawned upon him.

He stood up, hiding all emotion, and slipped back into his usual distant demeanor. "You managed to fall even at a party?"

Savannah, soaked and sitting on the ground, clenched her wet dress tightly in her fingers. However, she spoke with surprising clarity. "I didn't fall. Chantelle pushed me."

Immediately, Chantelle's eyes reddened. She eagerly shook her head and denied, "I didn't, Savannah! Why would you frame me like that?"

"Fine."

Savannah scoffed, fishing out her phone with a trembling hand. "Since you're not about to admit it, I'll let the cops do their job. Attempted murder? You're really asking for it."

Her finger was just about to press the dial button when Hendrick clasped her wrist.

"Enough," he said, his grip on her arm almost crushing her bones. "Elle didn't mean it, so stop blowing things out of proportion."

Savannah was in utter disbelief. She furiously shook her head and exclaimed, "She almost got me killed!"

"But you're breathing and talking now, aren't you?" He narrowed his eyes, warning, "Quit it now."

What an absurd situation. She understood that he needed to use Chantelle to provoke her, but did he have to risk her life for his stupid game, too?

"Quit what?" she retorted strongly, determined to dial 999. "I'm calling the police."

"I said, enough!" Hendrick snapped, snatching her phone away. "If you can't get any sense into your head, go home and reflect."

With that, he beckoned the bodyguards over. "Bring her to the confinement room. Do not release her until she's figured things out."

Savannah struggled violently as the bodyguards dragged her toward the confinement room. She yelled hoarsely, "Hendrick, are you crazy? She was trying to kill me! You know that!"

Her nails raked bloody scratches down the bodyguards' arms, and her high heels fell off during the struggle. However, their grip was too strong.

She resembled a butterfly with its wings crushed, flapping helplessly.

When the heavy door slammed shut behind her, Savannah's pupils contracted sharply. The tiny room, barely six feet by six feet, had no windows. Darkness overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, swallowing her whole.

"Let me out," she begged with a trembling voice.

The panic of claustrophobia gripped her throat like an invisible hand. Then, she recalled how her stepmother had locked her in the basement for three days and nights when she was only ten.

That crushing feeling of being abandoned by the whole world washed over her again, as strong as ever after all these years.

Curled up in the corner, Savannah dug her nails deep into her palms. In the darkness, she heard the scurrying of rats and bit her lip hard to keep from making a sound.

Time blurred—maybe it had been an hour, maybe a whole day.

She refused to eat any of the food that was brought to her, and the water cup was knocked over on the floor. Her throat felt like it was on fire from thirst, but the mental torture broke her far more than the physical pain.

The next day, the door finally opened. The bright light flooding in blinded Savannah, and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut.

"Still calling the cops?" Hendrick asked, his voice ringing from above.

She weakly lifted her head and saw him standing against the light. After a day apart, he was still impeccably dressed in his suit, every cuff perfectly in place.

Meanwhile, there she was, disheveled and battered like a madwoman.

She broke into laughter, but tears started streaming down her face.

"No," she uttered softly, defenseless. "I won't do anything anymore."

Instead, she simply wanted freedom—to be far away from Chantelle, from Hendrick, and from this cage that was slowly devouring her.

Hendrick frowned at her unusual reaction, and an inexplicable unease rose. Soon, though, he regained his usual aloofness. "Remember what you said."

With that, he turned away, perfectly missing the look of determination in Savannah's eyes.