There was a time when Nyla believed that walking down the aisle with Clark, after being together since their university years, would be the happiest moment of her life.

It was only when Clark cheated on her that she realized true love and growing old together were rare. More often than not, relationships ended in separation and loss.

After their divorce, she swore she would never give her heart away again.

But, Damon—Clark’s youngest uncle—barged into Nyla’s life and gave her no chance to escape. She kept trying to distance herself, not wanting any more ties with her ex’s family.

Damon, however, pursued her relentlessly, determined to have her in his arms.

"Uncle Damon, we're not right for each other."

Damon gently pinched Nyla’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You and Clark are divorced. How am I still your uncle?

"Besides, how do you know we’re not right for each other when you haven't tried?"

"I’ve tried," Nyla replied.

"Then try again," Damon said. "Keep trying until it feels right."

Nyla was at a loss for words.

"Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore."

Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him."

"Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..."

Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat.

After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that damn press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece.

Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife.

It was named "Love Nyla."

He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic.

The world was buzzing about their enviable love.

Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?"

Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night.

She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went.

At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you."

Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?]

Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.]

[Your husband is with me now.]

[I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.]

[What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.]

Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it.

The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.]

Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary.

Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding.

She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened.

A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning.

A pair of black lace panties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table.

From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door.

Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, naked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's penis.

Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, moaning, "Yes, that's it, great..."

The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?"

Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla, you little slut?"

Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her hips from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's moans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps.

The scene completely devastated Nyla.

Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in heaven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place.

She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk.

"Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?"

Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now."

Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding."

Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..."

"There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick."

Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school.

"Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly.

A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago."

Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job."

"Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent."

"Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this."

"Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?"

"As soon as possible."

After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life.

She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset.

Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs?

She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate.

With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy.

It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride.

"Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class."

When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me."

Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever.

But now...

She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs.

"Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual.

Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase.

Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home.

"Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal.

Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary."

He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it."

He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you."

Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating.

"Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room."

"Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family.

"Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away.

"You should shower first," she said, turning her face away.

Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day."

He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door.

Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message.

Her blood turned to ice.

On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts.

Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we made love last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.]

Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin.

She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care.

She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch.

Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick.

She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch.

The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves.

Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous.

"Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand.

Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower.

"Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin.

Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner thigh.

"Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes."

Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago.

Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest.

"Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!"

Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features.

"Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much."

He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait."

Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night.

But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can.

That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn.

The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired.

"Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today."

Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party."

As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black Rolls-Royce suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1."

Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly.

"Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath.

Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew.

He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group.

Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner.

As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue.

Clark parked behind the Rolls-Royce. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest.

Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine.

His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build.

This was Damon Summer.

"Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern.

For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze.

Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon.

"Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger.

He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear.

"Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle."

Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle.

"So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly.

Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea."

Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance.

The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here.

In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!"

Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly.

"Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly.

Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years.

"Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her.

As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval.

"Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon."

Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!"

Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful."