Olivia trembled as she held my blood-soaked body in her arms.

That day she cried for a long time before finally rasping out,

“Daniel, will you be with me?”

Of course I would.

Beyond the affection I already held, she was also the heir of the White family.

She needed someone to help her move on from her heartbreak.

And I needed someone to help me escape the abyss of the Smith family.

And so, we officially began our relationship.

After surviving a brush with death, Olivia grew calmer, more grounded.

Our love wasn’t as fiery or reckless as hers had been with Eric, but it was steady and happy.

She wanted to start a business—I joined her.

She wanted independence—I agreed without hesitation.

As a girlfriend, Olivia was flawless.

As a business partner, she was even more perfect.

Ten years passed.

We built our own company. Amassed enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.

One ordinary afternoon, Olivia casually suggested,

“Daniel, let’s get married.”

I agreed.

And that led to the farce we endured today.

A click—the sound of a lighter cut through my thoughts.

Though she had quit smoking long ago, Olivia had somehow produced a lighter and a cigarette.

The small flame flickered between her fingers.

In the dim light, I couldn’t see her expression, only the rings of smoke curling from her lips.

I was about to speak when Olivia suddenly pulled me close and kissed me deeply.

Only when I was breathless did she reluctantly let go.

Pressing her forehead against mine, she said gently but firmly,

“Daniel, being with you in this life is my greatest blessing. From now on, let’s just live our own lives, and forget the Smiths.”

Relief washed over me.

I nodded, but before I could respond, my phone rang.

The caller ID: Eric Smith.

Olivia frowned, tapped the screen, and blocked the number.

Then she started the car, and we drove back to the mansion we now lived in.

That night, Olivia was unusually clingy.

Even in sleep, she held my hand tightly, refusing to let go for even a second.

By morning, the pillow beside me was empty.

The silent room echoed only with an impatient knocking at the door.

Still half-asleep, I shuffled to open it—only to see my mother standing there with a displeased expression.

The moment she saw me, she raised the platinum handbag in her hand and smashed it against my head.

“You worthless brat! What did you say to Eric that made him cry all night in his room?”

“Stealing Olivia wasn’t enough—you want to drive your brother to his death too? How can your heart be this cruel?”

“If you don’t apologize to Eric today, I’ll never acknowledge you as my son again!”

I’d heard these words too many times growing up.

When I was born, my parents were busy building their business, leaving me behind in the countryside.

By the time they were successful, Eric was already at their side.

To them, he was their son.

And I was nothing more than a piece of the past they’d rather not remember.

In that house, if Eric cried, it was my fault.

If Eric was tired, it was my fault.

Whenever anything went wrong, it was always my fault.

In the end, everything was always my fault.

Years ago, I naively believed that if I just worked hard enough, I could earn my parents’ love.

So I pushed myself to be the top of my class.

I threw myself into business ventures and investments.

But all of my efforts combined still couldn’t compete with Eric calling out “Mom, Dad” in his sweet voice.

Fortunately, I grew up.

I found the courage to fight back.

When Mrs. Smith once again swung her platinum handbag at my head, I slapped her hand away.

“Leave in five minutes, or see you in court.”

The sharp sting stunned her into silence for a moment.

But when she recovered, she became even more hysterical.

She yanked my hair and screamed,

“You’re kicking me out? You’re really kicking me out?”

“I carried you for ten months, raised you with so much effort, and this is how you repay me? You ungrateful little bastard! Instead of letting you trample me, I might as well kill you right now!”

In her rage, my mother grabbed a vase and hurled it at me.

Just as the crystal ornament came flying toward me, a familiar figure stepped in front of me.

“Mrs. Smith, I already told you—Daniel Smith has nothing to do with your family anymore.”

“If you dare to bully my fiancé again, I won’t hesitate to use certain means to make you pay.”

Looking at Olivia White’s back as she shielded me, my nose stung.

All my life, I had longed for this moment—for someone to stand in front of me when I was beaten and helpless.

But now, as I watched Olivia’s back, my heart felt only bitterness.

Because before she stepped forward, I had already smelled it—the lingering scent of Eric’s cologne on her.

Still, it was Olivia who got rid of the problem.

After my mother stormed off, she knelt down to tend to my wounds.

When she saw the bruises and blood, she frowned.

“Daniel, why are you so foolish? When others hurt you, don’t you ever think to fight back?”

“I’m used to it,” I replied flatly.

Used to being bullied.

Used to being mocked.

Used to comforting myself with clumsy lies.

Olivia’s hand stilled for a moment before she gently pulled me into her arms.

“Don’t be afraid. From now on, I’ll protect you. I won’t let you suffer even the slightest grievance again.”

I gave a faint, indifferent smile without answering, though in my heart, I already knew the truth.

After this episode passed, the wedding proceeded as planned.

But on the eve of the ceremony, a series of explicit photos exploded online.

My fiancée, Olivia White, and my younger brother, Eric Smith.

In my own car, lost in their passion.

The footage had been captured by a nearby surveillance camera.

The timestamp: July 19, 10:35 a.m.

Exactly ten minutes after Olivia had hugged me and promised she would protect me forever.

In an instant, Olivia and Eric were thrown into the eye of a storm.

At the company headquarters, outside the mansion—reporters swarmed everywhere.

Reading the countless reports online, I only felt exhausted.

It was as if, over the past ten years, I had never truly known Olivia.

All I had possessed was an empty shell.

At that moment, I no longer cared about anything else.

My mind was consumed with one thought: how to protect my own interests.

The night before I was ready to act, Olivia’s PR team suddenly released a statement.

They claimed that Eric had been Olivia’s first love in her youth.

That the two had been together for over a decade, but hadn’t gone public due to business reasons.

That I was merely her business partner.

Facing the cameras, Olivia earnestly explained,

“Back then, when Eric went abroad for further studies, we were forced to separate for a time.”

“He cared deeply about his older brother, and asked me to look after Daniel in his absence.”

“It was out of trust and love for Eric that I chose Daniel as my business partner.”

“I hope people won’t confuse our relationship, and certainly won’t do anything to hurt Eric because of this.”

She spoke with sincerity, but her words shoved me directly into the fire.

Overnight, Eric’s reputation was restored.

Meanwhile, every accusation and condemnation turned toward me.

Fueled by Eric’s own manipulative posts that blurred the truth, nearly everyone came to believe it.

That I was a selfish, greedy man who, while my younger brother studied abroad, seduced his girlfriend.

My phone rang off the hook.

Red paint and dead rats were thrown all over the doorstep of my home.

In an instant, I went from being a respected, enviable businessman to a reviled homewrecker.

Even my parents stepped forward to testify against me.

My father claimed I had always been cruel, bullying my younger brother.

My mother declared that the Smith family had no such shameless son, and that she was cutting ties with me.

After enduring endless ridicule and curses, I ordered a milk tea and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the tidal wave of hatred crash down on me.

It was then that Olivia knocked on my office door.

Her tone was calm, her expression gentle, but in her eyes was the same condescension I had seen so often in Eric’s.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. But I can’t just stand by and let them drive Eric to his death.”

“You’re his older brother. You should know his temper best.”

“A boy who’s been pampered his whole life, never suffered even the slightest setback—he can’t possibly withstand this kind of cyberbullying.”

“This time, consider it a debt I owe you. Once things calm down, I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

Those words.

The ones I’d heard from my parents my entire life.

Now, they came from Olivia’s mouth.

I laughed coldly.

Calmly, I poured the unfinished milk tea over her face.

“No need. There is no ‘after’ for us.”

I called my lawyer and asked him to meet me at home to discuss strategy.

But when I opened my front door, I found Eric sitting there smugly.

He pressed a cigarette butt into my wedding photo and smirked.

“What’s wrong? Not smiling now? You looked so proud in that wedding photo. Why can’t you laugh anymore?”

“Daniel, you’re a real fool. You actually thought stealing Olivia would put you above me?”

“Did you forget? Ever since we were kids, if I wanted something, I always got it.”

I frowned, cutting him off.

“Do you even like Olivia?”

Eric shrugged, utterly indifferent.

“Like or dislike—what does it matter? If it’s something you care about, I can’t resist the urge to take it. To ruin it.”

“I love watching you get angry and miserable, knowing there’s nothing you can do.”