Blake’s spoiled little girlfriend had suffered a miscarriage.

At the company’s annual party, he lost control in public for the first time.

"Delilah, I told you before, the child is innocent. Neither he nor his mother could ever threaten your position. Why can’t you tolerate it?"

"Now that Alison’s child is gone, the one in your belly can’t survive either!"

His eyes were bloodshot as he tied me down himself to perform an abortion surgery.

As I hemorrhaged and had one of my fallopian tubes removed, he attended an auction, spending a fortune on collectibles for his little girlfriend to make up for it.

When I saw the news showing his affectionate gaze toward her, I knew this marriage had truly ended.

I called a number overseas.

"Do your words about marrying me still count?"

The man paused for a moment, then chuckled softly.

"Of course!"

——

After being discharged and returning to the Jennings residence, I stood frozen when I saw a pair of flashy high heels by the door.

Before I could think further, Blake Jennings’s lazy voice came from the sofa.

"You're back just in time. Alison isn’t used to having outsiders around. I gave the maids a few days off. Go make her some chicken soup to help her recover."

He slouched deeply on the sofa, a delicate, fair face resting against him, the owner of the high heels.

"Blake, Delilah just got discharged and is still weak. Let me do it instead..."

Alison’s voice was soft, yet it easily stirred Blake’s anger.

"Don't be fooled by her. She’s best at pretending. A minor abortion surgery and she dragged her hospital stay for over half a month just to fish for sympathy."

"Delilah, don’t think I’ll feel guilty. This child, you owed it to Alison!"

The corners of my mouth lifted into a bitter smile.

A month earlier, Alison had been diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy and underwent a clearance surgery.

But Blake, believing groundless rumors, was convinced I had bribed the doctors and plotted to kill Alison’s baby.

No matter how I tried to explain, he refused to listen.

At the company’s annual party, Alison recorded me allegedly conspiring with the doctor, solidifying my "crime" in front of everyone.

To comfort Alison, Blake, ignoring my three-month pregnancy, tied me down and personally operated to remove my child as a burial offering for hers.

He didn’t even wait for my surgery to finish; instead, he took Alison on vacation abroad.

At an auction, he threw money around carelessly, buying her several sky-high priced luxury collectibles, including a medieval opulent coronet.

Meanwhile, I, due to massive bleeding during surgery, lost a fallopian tube and was left lying in a hospital bed, completely unattended.

Now, he shamelessly claimed that I owed Alison.

How ridiculous.

As I calmly walked toward the kitchen, Blake raised his eyebrows and arrogantly issued more instructions.

"Don’t forget, Alison doesn’t eat cilantro."

"And make a fish too. Debone it completely and keep the flavor light..."

His thoughtfulness made Alison blush shyly, her slender fingers mischievously slipping into his collar.

For a while, soft moans filled the air and the atmosphere grew increasingly intimate.

I numbly closed the kitchen door, shutting out the sounds from outside.

Suddenly, I remembered: in five years of marriage, he couldn’t even name a single dish I liked, yet he knew Alison’s preferences by heart.

A mist blurred my vision, but I forcibly wiped it away.

After finishing the last dish, I turned upstairs to pack my things, only to be stopped by Blake.

"I forgot to tell you, I had your belongings moved to the guest room. The little girl has been pampered since she was young; she’s not used to sleeping in the north-facing room..."

A wave of unease washed over me. Without hesitation, I rushed to the guest room.

Just as I expected, no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find the protective sacred artifact my parents had left me.

Pale-faced, I rushed to Blake, reaching out to confront him.

"Blake, where did you hide my sacred artifact?"

"Alison’s been dreaming about the baby lately. I heard your sacred artifact works well, so she kept it to use for a few days."

"What? You owe her a life and now you can’t even give back a sacred artifact?"

Blake frowned with impatience.

Alison flustered, quickly pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, trying to press it into my hand with a face full of apology.

"I’m sorry, Delilah. I didn’t know it was so important to you. I'll return it to you right now…"

I reached out with trembling hands to take it, but she jerked back suddenly and the sacred artifact slipped into the pot of chicken soup.

"Alison!"

The chicken soup had just come off the stove, still bubbling hot. Without thinking, I reached in to grab it.

But the sacred artifact had already disintegrated, completely unrecognizable.

Red blisters quickly rose on both my hands and Blake let out a sigh, his eyes full of confusion.

"It’s just a sacred artifact. Was it worth hurting yourself and wasting a whole pot of chicken soup?"

Unable to hold back, I squatted down and sobbed.

"I'm sorry..."

Blake hadn’t expected me to be so meek and humble; for once, he didn’t make things difficult for me.

"Delilah, if you really like it, I’ll take you to the church next time."

I didn’t answer, swallowing my heartbreak as I turned and walked into the guest room.

He didn’t understand that sorry wasn’t meant for him. It was for my parents.

Their daughter had let them down, unable to protect even the last thing they had left behind.

Blake, staring after my retreating figure, felt a faint stab of guilt and was about to speak when Alison clutched her stomach and leaned against his chest, her face twisted in pain.

Seeing Alison’s pale complexion, Blake panicked and quickly scooped her into his arms, carrying her into the master bedroom.

Noisy sounds echoed from outside.

It seemed like a crowd had arrived; judging by the commotion, they must have practically moved the whole hospital over.

Meanwhile, because of the severe burns on the backs of my hands, I developed a high fever and drifted in and out of consciousness.

I thought back to the early days of our marriage when Blake had cared for me so tenderly that even a scraped heel would make him fuss for days.

But after I accidentally fell down the stairs and lost our first child, everything changed.

The women around him rotated one after another; he spent less and less time at home and the way he looked at me grew colder by the day.

All of a sudden, I opened my eyes wide.

At some point, Blake had stormed into the room, crouching low beside my bed.

His deep-set eyes now simmered with fury.

"You really can’t stand Alison, can you? You tampered with her food?"

"I told you, you owe her a child. I’ll compensate you later; what more do you want?"

"Delilah, you weren’t like this before. You’ve changed into someone I don't even recognize!"

He yanked my hair and dragged me all the way to the master bedroom.

The doctor, wiping sweat from his forehead, spoke urgently.

"President, Miss Alison, shows signs of food poisoning. Though we’ve stabilized her for now, we need to know exactly what the lady put in the food to prescribe the correct treatment…"

Blake shot me a vicious glare. "Speak! What exactly did you do?"

I truly didn’t know what to confess. "This has nothing to do with me."

Blake sneered coldly and shoved me in front of the doctor. Then, he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and poured it over me.

The exposed burns on the backs of my hands flared with sharp, stabbing pain, like countless needles digging in. I gasped and nearly fainted.

But he wasn’t finished, his cold, hard shoe sole pressed down on my wounded hand.

The doctor, seeing the situation spiral out of control, couldn’t help but step in to persuade him. "President Jennings, Madam just got out of the hospital. If the wound gets infected, it could be life-threatening..."

But Blake remained indifferent and said coldly, "If you don't tell the truth, you won't be needing these hands anymore!"

I slowly lifted my head to look at him. "Do as you wish."

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the storm rise in Blake’s eyes.

Without mercy, his foot crushed down on my wounded hands.

Darkness swallowed my vision and I passed out completely.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying in the guest room, my hands tightly bandaged.

Blake entered with a nurse, preparing to change my dressings.

The pain from the torn wounds made me gasp involuntarily, but I gritted my teeth and stayed silent.

Before losing consciousness, I had overheard the doctor say they had received Alison’s lab results; she had been suffering from gastric spasms from overeating.

"This time, it had nothing to do with you. I was too impulsive..."

"Does it hurt a lot?"

A flicker of guilt flashed across Blake’s eyes as he reached out, wanting to bandage me himself.

I turned away coldly. "No need."

Blake frowned, visibly displeased, his outstretched hand awkwardly retracting.

"Delilah, I've already lowered myself this much; what are you still angry about?"

Looking at the man before me, I couldn’t help but find it funny. He was always like this.

Even when he did something wrong, I was expected to forgive him unconditionally, without the slightest resentment.

Otherwise, it was ignorance.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I nudged my chin toward the person behind him.

He turned his head. Alison, her pale little face puffed up in anger, spun around and ran off.

Without hesitation, Blake quickly chased after her.

Soon, the sounds of a woman sobbing drifted from the living room.

Blake patiently coaxed her in a gentle voice.

"Alison, don’t cry. Your body is still weak; if you make yourself sick from crying, my heart will ache..."

"Alright, alright, I promise you, I’ll never enter her room alone again, okay? You little jealous thing!"

The nurse finished changing my dressing, cast me a sympathetic glance and quietly left the room.

Whenever Alison threw tantrums, he would spare no effort to coax her.

Yet when it came to wrongfully accusing me, he showed no hesitation in hurting me, forcing a confession without even giving me a chance to explain.

How unfair.

Then again, I had long since gotten used to it.

That night, Alison seemed intent on flaunting her victory.

Even with earplugs in, her passionate moaning and gasping sounds still reached my ears.

The next morning, the house was silent except for me.

Seeing the gown hanging outside the guest room door, I suddenly remembered there was an important company banquet tonight.

As the president’s wife, it was naturally my duty to attend.

I reached out and took the dress, letting out a bitter laugh.

From the front, it appeared luxurious and exquisite, but the back had been shredded to pieces, a childish act of revenge from Alison, without a doubt.

My phone buzzed endlessly, message after message flooding in.

Each one was a photo of Alison trying on different gowns, her delicate little face brimming with smug pride, over a hundred photos.

A video call finally popped up.

On the screen, Alison’s voice rang out, sweet and innocent.

"Delilah, I originally wanted to wear your dress, but Blake insisted on bringing me shopping. I’m so tired from trying on dresses. Tell me, which one suits me best?"

In the corner, Blake sat quietly on the sofa, his patience and doting gaze unmistakable.

I didn’t answer. I simply hung up.

Barely thirty seconds later, Blake’s call came through, his voice filled with anger and faint sobbing from a girl echoed in the background.

"Delilah! Alison respected you enough to ask for your opinion and you spoke so harshly to her!"

"A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve to be the president’s wife!"

"You don't need to come to tonight’s banquet!"