When Soren made me angry, it was always the kind of thing that could only be fixed with seven figures worth of jewelry.

Wendy was soft-hearted, and Evan could make her incredibly happy just by buying her some sweets.

I always said it—girls who are easy to please are never truly cherished.

Evan said he wouldn’t buy anything, but in the end, he packed up several boxes of egg tarts and mini cakes.

He walked into the house, holding the bags like he was bestowing a gift upon her, placing them on the table.

He had that look, as if waiting for Wendy to jump at him, begging him to forgive her for not calling him the entire night.

"Wendy, where the hell are you? Get down here, now!"

Usually, whenever Evan came home, Wendy would be waiting for him at the door.

She was petite and delicate, and when she rushed to him, she was like a little sparrow.

But today, the living room was empty. Evan searched the bedroom, the kitchen, and the dining room, but there was no sign of Wendy.

The maid, Martha Lam, came over, her voice tinged with anxiety. "Young master, madam didn’t come home all night... what should we do?"

"What?" Evan's face darkened. "She has some nerve, staying out all night. Where the hell is she?"

His fist tightened in anger.

I tugged at his sleeve. "Bro, Wendy’s never stayed out overnight before, has she? Could something have happened to her? You should use my backup phone and give her a call."

I pulled out a phone from my bag and slid in the SIM card I had grabbed from the bar's cup.

As soon as it powered on, a flood of messages came pouring in.

"Evan, something happened to Wendy."

"Evan, Wendy’s dead! Where are you?"

"My condolences, Evan. A life lost can never return."

Evan frowned deeply as he read the messages.

"Are they all out of their minds? Is today April Fools’ Day or something? Wendy's fine, she’s not dead!"

Just then, a call came in from a police number.

"Hello, is this Wendy's husband? We found what appears to be your wife’s body at the Highway 707 intersection. We need you to come down to confirm..."

Evan exploded. "Are you out of your damn mind? Are you all working together to mess with me? Tell her to get her ass home right now, or she’s never setting foot in this house again!"

He slammed the phone down.

I watched coldly from the side. "Bro, you still don’t believe something happened to Wendy, do you?"

"Something happened to her, my ass! That woman’s tougher than a cockroach. If she didn’t kill anyone herself, I’d be surprised."

Before long, Evan's ex-lover, Yara Hayes, called, asking him to meet up.

He agreed almost instantly.

Out of all the calls, this one was the only one that hadn’t mentioned Wendy.

I opened up my social media.

Sure enough, Yara had posted pictures of her eating and watching movies with Evan.

In the photo, she nestled sweetly against his shoulder, and she shared a song: "Finally Waiting for You."

Despite his playboy ways, Evan had always been strict about not letting any woman post photos with him.

Was he seriously thinking that posting this would make Wendy come back to life and catch him cheating?

When Evan got home, the house was filled with people.

At the front was Wendy’s mother, dressed in black, her face heavy with grief.

Evan was confused. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Wendy’s mother answered flatly, "I’m here to collect my daughter’s things."

Evan furrowed his brows. "What does she mean by that? Doesn’t she want to live with me anymore?"

Wendy’s mother’s voice suddenly became sharp. "Evan! Don’t think I don’t know how much of a bastard you’ve been to my daughter. Now she’s gone! I’m here to take what belongs to her!"

Evan stood frozen, as if struck by lightning, his awkward smile failing to hide his discomfort. "Mom, how could you make such a joke?"

Wendy's mom shot him a cold, dismissive look. "I'm not joking. Wendy died in a crash on Highway 707 yesterday. When she passed, where was her husband? You know it well enough."

With that, she shoved past Evan and stormed upstairs.

Where was Evan when Wendy died?

Naturally, he was at a karaoke bar, wrapped around a beautiful woman, singing.

Evan still couldn't believe it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Lorna, this must be one of Wendy's tricks."

"Now the whole family is in on it, trying to scare me, right?"

I pulled out my phone. "Bro, Wendy's death is already on the news."

"Victim Wendy, confirmed dead at 11:00 PM last night."

"There are plenty of people named Wendy. How many Wendys are there nationwide?"

I fell silent for a moment. "Wendy's funeral is in seven days. If you don't believe it, you can go see for yourself."

At the funeral, Evan and I showed up as expected. Wendy had left this world too suddenly, eyes wide open, her death unavenged. The whole funeral had only a few scattered wreaths.

Wendy's relatives and friends had come, each of them mourning deeply.

Especially Wendy's mom, who looked like she'd aged ten years in a single night, her face streaked with tears.

Only Evan remained unmoved, not shedding a single tear. His eyes darted aimlessly around, especially lingering on Wendy's black-and-white photo, where a strange, thoughtful expression crossed his face.

"Lorna, do you think... Wendy, she really is gone?"

I spoke softly from beside him. "Yes, Wendy is gone."

The air was thick with silence.

Evan suddenly spoke again, his voice almost detached. "Lorna, do you think I treated her well?"

I shot him a look of disdain, deliberately responding, "Bro, you treated Wendy well enough. You made her the young madam of the Vance family, dressed her in gold and silver, fed her well, and let her live in luxury. She should be eternally grateful to you."

Evan, oblivious to the sarcasm, nodded in agreement.

"You're right. I never liked this woman. She insisted on marrying me. Her death has nothing to do with me. Lorna, will you arrange a condolence payment for the Hayes family? Consider it the final settlement of our years together."

With trembling fingers, Evan shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to leave.

I watched his heartless back, suddenly feeling like Wendy had picked the hardest possible script for her life.

Evan had no heart. A wife of five years, and he spoke of her death with the detached tone of someone assigning a task to a subordinate.

Wendy had married him out of desperation.

Like countless other women in love, she had hoped to win his heart, but his cold indifference and selfishness slowly drained her of all hope.

Unfortunately, Wendy was even more unlucky than most. She had lost her life.

But Evan didn’t care. He turned around and brought his lover, Yara, home.

She was his first love.

Yara was the kind of girl many men dream of as their first love—pure, innocent, and unaware of the world's darker sides. Only women could see through the mask of innocence and recognize the ugly heart beneath.

Just two days after the death of his wife, she walked right into his home.

Even the servants couldn't stand it.

Yara innocently looped her arm through Evan’s, her voice tinged with hurt. "Evan, it feels like the servants don't like me very much."

"Who bullied you? Tell me and I’ll fire them immediately."

Yara shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's just that I want to stay in the east room. They said I couldn’t go in."

Evan's expression darkened.