I woke up in the hospital to a blinding, rhythmic throbbing in my skull.

My head felt heavy, wrapped in thick gauze that was already seeping with a faint, metallic scent. Groggily, I fumbled on the bedside table for my phone. My fingertips barely grazed the screen when a social media notification popped up.

It was Silvia. [Vittorio is still willing to coax me.]

My thumb hovered over the screen as I tapped the video. In it, Silvia was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, pouting and extending her index finger toward the camera. "Look, I scratched my finger when I smashed that bottle." she whined playfully.

The camera panned slightly to reveal Vittorio. He was kneeling on his heels in front of her, his usually aloof face softened by an expression I had never seen. His slender fingers delicately held a pastel band-aid, carefully wrapping it around her tiny scratch. Then, he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip.

I stared fixedly at the glowing screen, the blue light reflecting in my hollow eyes. Suddenly, the stitches on my head felt as though they were being ripped open all over again, raw flesh rubbed with coarse salt. The agony was so suffocating it made my fingertips go completely numb.

Taking a shaky, ragged breath, I dialed 911.

“I would like to file a police report.”

As the night fell, the heavy silence of the ward was violently shattered. Vittorio pushed the ward door open with a brutal force. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he brought the chill of the night air in with him. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark and stern as he struggled to contain his fury.

“Did you call the police? You accuse Silvia of intentional injury?”

“Yes.” I met his furious gaze directly, refusing to look away.

“Intentional injury. What she did is more than enough to press criminal charges.”

He let out a breath, his expression hardening with displeasure. “She was in the wrong for smashing a bottle over your head, but I've already punished her. Just let it go.”

“Punished?” I sneered, he word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Tell me how exactly did you punish her?”

“You know she is impulsive. I've banned her from leaving the house for a day.”

I froze for a second before bursting into a hollow, echoing laugh. The movement pulled at my scalp, and my wound throbbed violently, but I couldn't stop.

“I got thirty-odd stitches and you banned her from going out for a single day! I stared at him, my voice dripping with venom.

“Vittori, are you punishing her by keeping her indoors? Or, are you protecting her under the guise of discipline because you’re afraid I’ll go and trouble her?”

Vittorio’s eyes darkened dangerously, “What nonsense are you spouting? What I did is absolutely a punishment!”

He took a step forward, trying to force a calm facade. “I’ve already withdrawn your file. Just save your breath. No one in the entire city will take this case.”

I gripped the sheet tightly, my nails digging so hard into the fabric. I wanted to scream, to hurl every curse at him, but in the end, only one broken word managed to escape my lips.

“Vittorio…what exactly do I mean to you? If you don't care about me at all, why did you marry me?”

Vittorio frowned even deeper， a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.. “I do care about you. How could I marry a woman I don't love?”

He paused slightly, “Alright. Just let it go. I'll take care of you these days. Stop making a fuss.”

He spoke as if he were bestowing upon me some monumental, earth-shattering favor. Standing there in my hospital gown, I suddenly found it all quite ridiculous. I truly wondered what his love even looked like.

For the next few days, Vittorio stayed home to nurse me.

He showed up punctually every day, bringing light porridge, changing dressings, and silently holding my hand whenever I woke up in pain during the middle of the night.

If this had happened in my previous life, I would have been ecstatic, mistaking his fleeting guilt for genuine affection. But now, there was nothing left in my heart but desolation.

One afternoon, I woke up from afternoon nap and reached back to my hair. My fingers met empty air.

I rushed out of the bedroom, only to stop dead in my tracks. My long hair had been hacked off as if it had been gnawed on by a rabid dog.

I stormed into the living room and found Silvia sitting comfortably on the sofa. She was holding thick strands of my black hair, cheerfully braiding them into a messy knot.

In a flash, the horrifying reality clicked into place.

“Did you have my hair cut?” I questioned her, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and rage.

Silvia looked up at me, an open smile playing on her lips. “Yes, it’s me. Our school makes us do handicrafts.”

She waved the strands of my hair in the air like a trophy, “I decided to make a wig. Your hair is so black and shiny, it’s perfect.”

A bone-deep chill ran through my entire body. I was unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and slapped her fiercely across the face.

Smack!

The sharp, resounding crack echoed through the living room.

Silvia covered her reddening cheek, her eyes instantly turning icy and malicious, “How dare you hit me? My brother treasures me more than anything. He wouldn't even lay a finger on me. Who the hell do you think you are?”

She raised her voice, commanding the room. “Hold her down!”

The bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly between her and me.

Silvia narrowed her eyes, her tone dripping with absolute authority. “You're all my brother's men. Can't you tell who is more important to him?

After a brief moment of silence, they stepped forward and pinned my arms tightly behind my back. I helplessly laughed, tears streaming down my face.

Everyone in the villa clearly knew the role Silvia played in Vittorio’s heart. Only I could be so foolish. It took me two lifetimes to finally uncover this secret I had thought was earth-shattering.

Before I could get on my feet, Silvia had already raised her hand, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph.

The first slap landed on my face with a searing sting, leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. Then, came the second, and the third…

I struggled desperately against the iron grip of the bodyguards, my voice hoarse, “Silvia, aren't you afraid your brother will settle the score with you?”

Silvia threw her head back and laughed brazenly, “Whatever trouble I cause, he’ll always be there to fix it for me. Even his wife is no exception.”

She leaned in, whispering into my ear, “Sylvia, I am his one and only. Keep it in your mind!”

With that, she kept slapping me, over and over again. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, but the bodyguards held me down. When the final, crushing blow fell, a metallic taste flooded my mouth. I spat up a mouthful of blood, my vision tunneling into darkness before I completely blacked out.

In the hazy void between consciousness and oblivion, I heard the front door burst open, followed by a fierce, commanding shout: “What the hell are you doing?!”

When my eyes finally fluttered open, I was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Vittorio sat beside me, his expression a mask of perfect, infuriating calm.

“I know what happened today,” his voice unbothered.

My throat was parched, voice raspy, “And then?”

“Silvia has been spoiled since she was a child.” he said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “I've already punished her. Don't hold it against her.”

I stared at him, searching for a flicker of genuine remorse in his dark eyes. “How did you punish her?”

Vittorio paused before pulling a tuft of hair from his pocket, “I know she cut your hair in a fit of jealousy. Now she has her own hair cut to offer an apology.”

A wave of utter absurdity washed over me. “What about slapping me?”

His voice remained as placid as a frozen lake, “Her hand also swelled up from hitting you. That counts as her punishment.”

I was left utterly speechless, a profound disappointment settling deep in my chest. Later, I burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face. I asked myself why I have ever fallen in love with Vittorio.

Just as Vittorio opened his mouth to speak, I abruptly snatched the vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently onto the floor!

“Get out!” I screamed out, my eyes bloodshot.

Vittorio stood up slowly, his tone still eerily calm, “I know you're angry, but the doctor advised you to have a rest for recovery. You’d better calm down.”

Without another word, he walked out, not even turning his head back.

The moment the door clicked shut, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I curled into myself and broke down in bitter, soul-crushing sobs.

Three days later, a call from the embassy brought the only good news I’d heard in months. My permanent residency had been approved.

I raised my hand and twisted off the wedding ring, leaving behind only a faint pressure mark on my finger. I placed it gently on the table. I knew it was time for the nightmare to end.

In the pale light of early morning, I dragged my suitcase through the bustling airport terminal. Just as I approached the boarding gate, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Vittorio. [This is the gift for you after my business trip.]

He flied overseas to bid on the Princess Diana necklace for Silvia, and came back right now.

I let out a soft, cynical sneer. The gift was a cheap, ordinary bracelet, not even wrapped in a box. I knew it was merely a freebie. Yet, to my surprise, I didn't feel a pang of sadness. The love I once harbored for Vittorio had finally died. He never had a chance to hurt me again.

Clutching my boarding pass, I walked briskly toward the gate. As I lifted my gaze, I happened to see Vittorio stepping out of the VIP exit in the distance. Dressed in a sharp black trench coat, he still looked stern and untouchable.

I didn't call out to him. I simply watched him quietly walk away as if a stranger walked away from my past.

Vittorio Croft, happy divorce. Wishing you freedom……and wishing myself liberation.

A second later, I blocked all his contact information without a shred of hesitation. I turned around, and walked in the opposite direction, never to look back!