Her gaze lingered on the red marks adorning Cedric’s neck, and she asked deliberately, her voice calm but pointed, "What happened to your neck?"

Cedric froze for a moment before quickly releasing her and striding toward the mirror. His hand instinctively moved to rub the marks as his brows furrowed. "Probably mosquito bites."

"Really?" Dione’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained sharp. "Are you sure it wasn’t some woman leaving her mark?"

Her gaze bore into his reflection, searching for any flicker of guilt.

Cedric turned, his expression softening into a helpless smile as he pulled her into his arms again. His voice, smooth and warm, brushed against her ear. "If anyone were to kiss my neck, it’d only be you. No one else is allowed."

He tapped her nose lightly, his smile faltering just enough to show a hint of frustration. "Stop overthinking. You’re the only one I love."

Before she could reply, his phone buzzed insistently from his pocket, the vibrations breaking the moment. His unease was palpable as he turned toward the bedroom, muttering something about needing a shower.

As Cedric showered, bursts of laughter echoed intermittently from the bathroom, a sound that grated against Dione’s already strained nerves. Seated on the bed, she sifted through her collection of jewelry and branded handbags, her movements deliberate and detached.

Forty minutes passed before Cedric finally emerged, steam trailing behind him like a lingering shadow. His eyes landed on the array of handbags sprawled across the bed, one brow lifting in mild amusement. "Having trouble deciding which one to take? Need your husband’s impeccable fashion advice?"

Dione, her focus unwavering as she snapped photos to send to a luxury consignment store, replied flatly, "I’m heading out, but these bags don’t feel like me anymore. I’m thinking of selling them."

Her voice was calm, almost too calm, as if she were discussing a trivial errand. Yet, in her heart, she knew she was preparing for a journey far beyond his reach, one from which there would be no return.

"That’s a good idea," Cedric said warmly, stepping closer. His tone dripped with affection as his hand reached for her cheek. "This way, I can spoil you with some of the newest designs."

But even as he spoke, his other hand held his phone tightly behind his back, its screen lighting up with an unspoken secret.

Dione leaned away, her body instinctively recoiling from his touch. Without sparing him a glance, she continued snapping photos, her silence sharper than any rebuke.

Cedric’s phone buzzed incessantly, the vibrations cutting through the stillness of the room like a restless hum.

“Cedric, if you’re busy, just go. Someone from the consignment store is coming later. It wouldn’t be good if they recognized you.” She knew his mind had wandered far from this room and simply offered him an easy out.

“Really? Well, Laurent wants to go over a few more details, so I’ll head out.” He quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, the familiar scent of cologne trailing behind him as he left in haste.

Left alone, Dione turned her attention back to her task, her fingers tracing the edges of her handbags. The value of the jewelry and designer bags sprawled before her amounted to a staggering 30 million.

Over the years, Cedric never let a holiday or milestone slip by without lavishing her with gifts, always proclaiming he wanted her to have the best of everything. And he had delivered. Beyond the spacious apartment they called home, four or five other properties bore her name.

Cedric was no longer the man who once struggled to afford instant noodles. Now, he was a name people recognized, a millionaire with a sterling reputation in Cedar Ridge.

With fame came a flurry of events and admirers, many of whom were glamorous female celebrities from the entertainment world. Yet Cedric always brushed them aside, dismissing them as cunning women looking for a way to climb the social ladder.

Then there was Ophelia Morgan, the female apprentice who appeared six months ago. She came into the picture when Cedric was under pressure to finish a sculpture for a company’s anniversary celebration, so he hired extra help. Ophelia, who had been drifting through Cedar Ridge, taking on odd jobs to get by, was one of them.

By the time her stint with him ended, Ophelia had stripped bare and begged him to take her in.

Cedric had kicked her out without a second thought and later chuckled about the incident with Dione, recounting it like an amusing anecdote.

Half a month later, Dione walked into Cedric's studio, only to be confronted with an unexpected sight: there was Ophelia, still there. Not only had she managed to stay, but Cedric had even sorted out her passport issues.

Dione, her heart heavy with the weight of betrayal, couldn’t hold back. "What’s going on here?" she asked, her voice tight and disbelieving.

Cedric stepped in front of Ophelia, his posture protective. His gaze softened as he explained, "She’s in a tough spot, just trying to make a living, much like we did when we first arrived in Cedar Ridge…"

"I took her in because she reminded me of our own struggles back then."

Back then, Dione had been sure of herself. Even the most glamorous movie stars couldn’t seem to catch Cedric’s eye, so she never gave a second thought to the idea that an average-looking girl with no standout features could win his attention.

So, she let it go.

But then, Dione’s health began to decline. She needed chemotherapy, and to keep Cedric from worrying, she fabricated a story about going abroad for a trip. Yet when she returned, fresh from her treatment, everything felt different.

It was right after her first round of chemotherapy. Her complexion was pale, the effects of the treatment evident, and she feared Cedric might notice and grow concerned. So, she headed to a beauty salon for some treatment. The beautician, in an attempt to lighten the mood, teasingly asked her how she could stand Cedric taking on a female apprentice.

It wasn’t until then that Dione learned Cedric had been attending one high-profile event after another with Ophelia, proudly introducing her as his beloved apprentice to anyone who would listen. She was the last to know.

Cedar Ridge’s media, always quick to stir the pot, seized the opportunity with exaggerated headlines. By the time Dione had gathered the courage to confront him, Cedric had already instructed her to handle the media.

For the sake of Cedric’s reputation, Dione accepted his new apprentice, putting on a gracious front for the cameras.

Watching Cedric go to great lengths to protect Ophelia, Dione’s heart broke. All the questions she had, the ones she couldn’t voice, were swallowed by the pain. As time passed, the resentment festered, becoming a wound that never healed.

Dione transferred a large sum to Dr. Pierce for the euthanasia arrangements and also donated generously to a lupus research foundation.

Her bank card was linked to Cedric’s, so he received notifications of these transactions. After a quick glance, he tossed his phone aside, assuming Dione was simply splurging on another new handbag.

Ophelia’s teeth ground together as she watched, her gaze burning with resentment. To her, the money Dione spent so freely seemed like a wound, a piece of flesh she would eventually claim for herself.

Dione hadn’t expected Ophelia to show up at her doorstep, and certainly not with such audacity. She was flipping through old photos when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the takeout she had ordered, she opened the door only to find Ophelia standing there, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Dione, long time no see. Why do you look so pale? Could it be menopause?” Ophelia sneered, her smile sickly sweet.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dione slapped her hard across the face.

“You’ve got some nerve! A dog like you dares to bark at my door?”

Though Dione’s health had taken a toll, she still made sure to keep fit when she could, and the slap was delivered with force, a clear sign of her strength.

“But Cedric likes this dog of his,” Ophelia smirked, her voice dripping with malicious amusement as she played a recording from her phone.

First came Ophelia's coy voice. “Cedric, I’m going to drain you dry so you won’t touch her when you go home.”

Then came Cedric's unsatisfied voice. “I haven’t touched her in half a year. She’s too skinny. Hugging her is like hugging a dried corpse…”

Hearing Cedric say those words was like a slap to Dione’s face. She stood frozen, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

Her lupus had been hereditary, something Cedric had known from the moment they met. He had researched the condition and had been careful with her, reminding her every day to take her medication. And yet, here he was, speaking like that.

He had said it countless times, how sorry he felt for her, tormented by the illness, wishing he could offer her his own flesh to ease her pain. Yet now, to hear him say holding her was like clutching a dried corpse felt like a knife in her heart.

Ten years of marriage, how had their love soured so dramatically?

Then Ophelia handed over Cedric’s wedding ring, her gaze flaunting as she watched Dione’s reaction.

“Cedric never wears this when he’s with me,” Ophelia said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “He says it’s bad luck. But you seem to like it, so I brought it back for you.”

The ring had been bought with Cedric’s first earnings. He had rented the grandest LED screen at Emerald Harbor, displaying her name in lights, and had set off a breathtaking fireworks show to make up for their missed proposal.

Even though Cedric later earned a fortune, the ring held a meaning that couldn’t be matched. For both of them, it was irreplaceable. He wouldn’t even consider resizing it, let alone replacing it. He wore it constantly, never taking it off, not while bathing, not even while sleeping.

“Dione,” Ophelia began with a sly smirk, “Master said you don’t own a single lace-trimmed piece of lingerie. I didn’t think you’d be so… old-fashioned.”

She unbuttoned her top deliberately, exposing faint marks on her skin and the delicate lace peeking underneath.

“Do you know how thrilled Master was when he saw me in this? These marks? They’re all his doing. You can’t even imagine that when he’s with me, he’s like a ravenous wolf.”

Her words were venomous, each one a poisoned dagger plunging deep into Dione’s heart. Her hands balled into fists, her entire body trembling as waves of pain and anger surged through her.

Unable to restrain her fury, Dione struck out, her fists and slaps raining down mercilessly on Ophelia. The younger woman was left battered and crying for mercy. If the neighbors hadn’t rushed over after hearing the chaos, Dione might have beaten her to death.

Ophelia hadn’t expected the frail-looking Dione to possess such strength, but the outcome suited her plans perfectly. Covered in bruises, she went straight to Cedric, her face twisted in pitiful complaint.

After Ophelia left, Dione’s rage turned inward, erupting into a storm of destruction. She smashed everything within reach, leaving the house in shambles. She was in the middle of cutting up their wedding photos when Cedric returned.

He opened the door to chaos, shattered glass and broken fragments scattered across the floor like remnants of a hurricane. In the center of it all stood Dione, scissors in hand, blood dripping from her fingers onto the gleaming blade. Her disheveled hair framed her wild, unhinged expression.

Cedric panicked as his eyes darted across the wreckage. Stepping carefully over the shards, he approached her, his tone soft yet desperate. "Dione, did you misunderstand something? I accidentally left my ring at the studio, and Ophelia brought it over because she thought I’d be worried."

“She’s just a kind-hearted girl.”

Dione let out a bitter laugh, her voice dripping with mockery. “Kind-hearted? How? By being generous enough to care for someone else’s husband?”

Cedric stiffened, momentarily caught off guard, before moving closer. Gently, he reached for the scissors in her hand, his voice laced with forced calm. “I only see her as a disciple. Don’t overthink it.”

“A beloved disciple who’s opened your eyes to a new world, isn’t that right?” Dione’s words sliced sharper than any blade. “Cedric, let’s get a divorce.”

Panic flashed across his face as he immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if afraid she might vanish. “No. I won’t divorce you. Not in this lifetime.”

“I swear, I’ll only ever love you.”

His words flowed like a stream of empty promises, each one finding a way to shield Ophelia. Dione, too drained to argue over whatever twisted narrative Ophelia had spun, pushed him away with visible disgust before collapsing onto the couch. Her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion.

“Fine. No divorce.”

She no longer cared. What difference did it make? Her time was slipping away. Once she chose euthanasia, Cedric would be free, widowed, not divorced, and unburdened to remarry.

Cedric called the family doctor to tend to Dione’s wounds while he quietly set about cleaning the chaos she had left in her wake. She watched him with hollow eyes, unable to reconcile how the man who once adored her with such intensity could now feel like a stranger.

Ophelia’s cruel words echoed in her mind, a relentless torment that sent tremors through her body. Her hands shook uncontrollably as her breathing quickened.

Noticing her distress, Cedric paused mid-cleanup and hurried to retrieve her medication. “Did you forget to take your pills?”

Dione’s fury surged. She slapped the bottle from his hand, the sound sharp and echoing in the tense silence. Her venomous glare pierced through him as she spat, “Cedric, you disgust me.”

Cedric stood frozen, a helpless expression clouding his face. Assuming her anger stemmed from the ring, he tried to soothe her with a forced lightness.

“I’m sorry, my dear wife. Next time I lose my ring, you can cut off my hand, okay?”