"Do you really want me to lay it all out?"

Whether it was Melvin, who'd stolen my place and tried to ruin me time and again, or Greta, who'd fed off my blood and sweat to climb her way up all these years, neither of them had any right to say those words to me.

The composure drained from Greta's face, replaced by a flash of irritation.

"Victor, what's gotten into you? 'Lay it all out'? You're my husband! Don't act like reviewing a few documents for me at work makes you some kind of hero."

"Other husbands would lay down their lives for their wives. All I did was give you a little extra work and skip bringing you home for the holidays. Is that really worth making a scene over?"

Her brows pinched together, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

I didn't spiral into hysterics the way I used to. My voice was level, almost detached, as I delivered my ultimatum.

"Greta, ask yourself honestly. Have you ever truly thought of me as your husband?"

"In your eyes, wasn't I always just an employee you could summon whenever you needed?"

Greta was the only child in the James family, but she'd never had a head for business. Nine years ago, a catastrophic miscalculation nearly drove James Corp into bankruptcy. Her parents had even floated the idea of marrying her off in exchange for a project deal and adopting a nephew to carry on the family name.

She'd come to me in tears, thrown her arms around me, and said I was the only one she wanted to marry. She begged me to help her.

I remembered how, when I'd first been brought back to the Gilbert household, she was the only person who hadn't mocked me or looked at me with contempt. That small seed of affection in my chest couldn't help but bloom.

I said yes. And with that, I began over three thousand days of quiet misery.

Outside of our wedding night and the occasional crisis at the company, Greta never shared a room with me. She said she was naturally frigid and told me not to be disgusting by always thinking about sex.

So I respected her wishes. I held myself back, never once crossing the line.

But on too many late nights, I watched from the window as Melvin walked Greta to our front door. The two of them holding hands, embracing, and not once did either of them seem to remember that I was her husband.

Years of turning a blind eye hadn't earned me Greta's heart. If anything, it only emboldened her.

Her expression twisted. "Victor, wasn't all of that your own choice? Did I ever force you? Didn't you say you loved me? If you love me, why keep score?"

Melvin shook his head at me. "Victor, real love doesn't ask for anything in return. It doesn't keep a tally. The fact that you're counting every little thing proves you don't deserve to use the word 'love.'"

Between the two of them, in just a few sentences, they'd painted me as some petty, scheming lowlife.

Hearing Melvin's words, Greta's lips curled into a sneer.

"Victor, nine years ago you were nothing but a castoff about to be thrown out of the family. If I hadn't taken you in, you'd probably still be digging through trash somewhere. You gambled on me making a comeback, didn't you? Well, congratulations, your bet paid off. What more could you possibly want?"

My heart went cold. Completely, irreversibly cold.

Images from nine years ago flooded my mind, from when I'd first been brought back to the Gilbert family.

Melvin had wanted to humiliate me. He'd paid to get photos from my years in the countryside: pictures of people shoving my face into garbage, slapping me around. He played them on a screen at our parents' investor gala for everyone to see.

Every wretched, degrading frame, burned into every pair of eyes in that room.

I wanted to run. I was so ashamed I could barely stand.

It was Greta who caught my hand.

"They're the ones who hurt you. They should be the ones drowning in shame, not you."

She saved those photos. She called the police and had every single person who'd tormented me hauled down to the station. She publicly called Melvin out for his jealousy, told everyone he didn't deserve to call himself a Gilbert.

From that day on, Greta was carved into the deepest part of my heart.

But now she'd taken my most painful memories and sharpened them into a blade aimed straight at my chest.

I didn't say another word. I just pulled off the wedding ring I'd never once removed.

"Let's end this while we can still walk away clean."

The expression on Greta's face froze solid. She realized, a beat too late, what she'd said.

"Victor!"

"If you hadn't provoked me, I wouldn't have said those things."

She snatched the ring off the ground and forced it onto my finger. "You swore you'd never take this off. I'll forgive you this once, but if there's a next time, I'll never speak to you again."

That threat had worked on me a hundred times before. This time, it didn't land.

I pushed Greta's hand away, slipped the ring off right in front of her, and dropped it on the ground.

She stood frozen, shock written all over her face.

"Victor! Have you lost your mind?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Yeah. I have. I was out of my mind for nine straight years. That's more than enough."

I turned and walked away.

Greta tried to follow, but Melvin caught her in his arms.

"Greta! He knows exactly how you feel about him. He's playing hard to get. If you chase after him now, you're falling right into his trap!"

Something clicked behind her eyes. She nodded slowly. "You're right. Victor loved me so much he threw away every shred of his dignity. There's no way he'd actually leave. He didn't hand me any divorce papers, didn't even mention splitting assets. He's bluffing."

I heard every word of her muttering. I didn't slow down.

Whatever assets Greta had, I didn't want them.

Divorce papers were beside the point. I knew she'd never willingly let go of a useful tool like me, so I'd already retained a lawyer to file for divorce through the courts.

I stepped onto the empty street, and for the first time in years, I smiled.

I used to believe that leaving Greta would destroy me.

Now I realized that walking away from her was the lightest I'd felt in nine years.

I didn't have to cater to her preferences. I didn't have to sit alone in an empty house all night, waiting for her to come home. I didn't have to ask, with my stomach in knots, whether she'd gone out with Melvin again.

Three days passed. Then a message from Greta lit up my phone:

Don't you want your grandmother's memorial tablet?

I'd been kidnapped and raised in the countryside for eighteen years. My grandmother was the only person who ever truly cared for me. She never raised her voice, never scolded me. She'd sneak me food and water behind that vicious couple's backs.

After she died, I knew they'd never honor her memory.

So at Greta's suggestion, I'd placed my grandmother's memorial tablet at the James estate, where it would receive proper offerings.

My chest tightened. I got in the car and drove straight there.

Two bodyguards blocked me at the gate.

"Sorry, sir. No entry without an invitation."

Greta stood just inside, arm linked through Melvin's. He was wearing a tailored designer suit.

That suit. Greta had given it to me on our wedding day, nine years ago.

Melvin's lips curled with satisfaction. "Victor, I thought you wanted nothing to do with Greta. And yet here you are, crawling back."

Greta looked me over with the kind of disgust she'd clearly been rehearsing. "Enough. I know you're here to win me back. Whatever it is, save it for later. Today is my grandfather's eightieth birthday celebration. Melvin and I are the happy couple everyone expects to see."

Melvin's smile turned icy. He turned to Greta. "Go on in and give your grandfather his gift. Don't miss the auspicious hour. Let me have a word with Victor."

Greta looked at him with concern. "If Victor dares lay a hand on you, tell me. I'll handle it."

She shot me one last warning glare, then disappeared through the gate.

I stepped forward. "Greta, I need to get something from inside."

Guests streamed in and out. I couldn't say outright that I'd come for my grandmother's memorial tablet. Bringing up the dead on the old man's eightieth birthday would be an unforgivable offense.

But Greta didn't spare me so much as a glance. She turned and walked away without a word.

Melvin immediately signaled the bodyguards. They seized me and dragged me around to the backyard. He produced the tablet and held it up.

"This is what you came for, isn't it?"

My eyes burned red. "Give it back!"

Melvin let out a cold laugh.

"It's just a piece of rotting wood. What's the rush?"

I was pinned to the ground, completely unable to move. All I could do was watch as he grabbed my grandmother's memorial tablet and hurled it to the dirt.

He tossed a cleaver in front of me. "You care this much about some old woman you're not even related to by blood? Then what about your uncle?"

"Your grandmother's precious youngest son is lying in a hospital bed with kidney failure. Can't move a muscle. Waiting for someone to pay his medical bills so he doesn't die."

My eyes burned, veins bulging at my temples. "What do you want?"

"Chop this tablet to pieces. I'll wire the money and save your uncle's life."

"He's the only person left in this world who ever gave a damn about you. Think carefully."

I thrashed against the hands holding me down. "Melvin! You animal! This is your own grandmother's tablet! And that's your uncle too!"

Melvin drove his foot into my stomach. "My parents carry the Gilbert name. They run the Gilbert Group. They have nothing to do with some backwater peasants!"

"I'm counting to three. If you don't do it, he dies."

"Three—"

"Two—"

"I'll do it!"

I picked up the cleaver. My whole body wouldn't stop shaking.

Melvin's lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his face alight with pure delight.

Then Greta's voice rang out from behind me.

"Victor! What are you doing?!"