"hiss……"

Sharp shards of glass once again pierced deep into the skin of her exposed palms and forearms, bringing waves of excruciating pain. Clara, who had just tried to prop herself up, couldn't help but gasp, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on her forehead. This physical pain seemed so insignificant compared to the desolate wasteland in her heart that had already been crushed.

The surrounding crowd, still reeling from the shock of the collapsed champagne tower, was stunned once more by Liam's resolute figure as he walked away without a backward glance towards another woman. After a brief silence, whispers rose like a tide.

"Vanessa? Who is Vanessa?" A young guest who was not very familiar with the situation finally couldn't contain his curiosity and whispered the question to the person next to him.

"Eh? You didn't know?" A stylishly dressed lady next to him immediately lowered her voice, her tone filled with the excitement of sharing a secret, "That Vanessa, I heard, is the one Liam has held dear for many years, his white moonlight. If it weren't for that crisis with the Foster family..."

"Ah? Then...then Mrs. Foster, she..." The person who asked the question covered his mouth in surprise, looking at Clara, who was still sitting in the mess, with complicated eyes.

"Who in this circle doesn't know about this?" Another voice interjected with a hint of disdain. "Back then, it was said that Clara took advantage of the Foster family's downfall, and her father forced Liam to marry her with shares, causing that Miss Vanessa to leave home heartbroken. Now look at her, the Foster family has made a comeback, even more powerful than before, and Vanessa has just returned. I think this Mrs. Foster... humph, looking at her current pathetic state, how can she possibly manage?"

"Ah~ So that's how it is!" Several exclamations of sudden realization rang out around them, and the gazes directed at Clara instantly changed from initial sympathy to disdain, scrutiny, and even a hint of schadenfreude.

"I always thought Mrs. Foster was a very nice person, gentle and generous. I never imagined... she would use such methods to get ahead... tsk tsk tsk..."

"Shh! Keep your voice down, after all, she's still officially Mrs. Foster."

"So what? Didn't you see how fast Liam ran for Vanessa? She, the legitimate wife, fell like that, and he was no match for her with just a phone call..."

...

These comments, some high, some low, were like countless fine needles, relentlessly piercing Clara's eardrums and stripping away her last shred of ridiculous dignity. As she listened to the distorted facts and watched the direction where Liam's figure disappeared, a huge, absurd sense of ridiculousness welled up from the bottom of her heart, almost overwhelming her.

It turns out that the so-called love she had carefully cherished and devoted herself to for the past three years was nothing but a complete joke, a one-woman show in which she was immersed.

It turns out that in the eyes of everyone in the circle, she was the despicable one who destroyed other people's relationship and took advantage of their misfortune. Only she herself was using "love" as a fig leaf to deceive herself and maintain the precarious illusion of her marriage.

The surrounding guests whispered among themselves, looking at her with indifference or mockery, but not a single person stepped forward to help her up. She clearly realized that this was a banquet hosted by the Foster family, and most of those present were friends and business partners of the Foster family, not her Bennett family. The coldness of human nature was on full display at this moment.

Clara gritted her teeth, ignoring the stinging pain in her palms and knees. Using her uninjured arm to support herself on the cold, damp ground, she struggled to her feet, relying solely on her own strength, amidst the shards of glass and spilled liquor. The hem of her starry blue dress was stained and clung tightly to her body, highlighting her disheveled state and loneliness.

Ultimately, the grand banquet that was originally intended to celebrate her birth was abruptly ended due to her injury as the leading lady and this sudden farce.

It was late at night when Clara, enduring the pain all over her body, drove alone to the nearest central hospital. The emergency room was brightly lit but deserted, with only a few patients in the corridor, making it seem exceptionally empty and quiet.

She registered and had the deeper glass cuts on her hands and arms treated: cleaning, disinfection, medication, and bandaging. Throughout the process, she bit her lower lip tightly, not uttering a single cry of pain, as if the injuries weren't her own. When the nurse wrapped her right hand and forearm in thick gauze like a rice dumpling, she just watched expressionlessly, her eyes vacant.

However, fate always seems to play cruel jokes. Of all the hospitals in Beijing, she happened to be here, at this most vulnerable moment, when she encountered Liam, who had rushed over, and Vanessa, whom he was carefully protecting by his side.

As Vanessa helped Liam, whose lip was bruised, shirt collar was disheveled, and who had clearly been in a fight, into the emergency room, Clara, having just finished bandaging her wound, came out of the examination room. The three of them met unexpectedly in the corridor filled with the smell of disinfectant.

"Clara? What are you doing here?"

When Liam saw her, he stopped abruptly, a look of obvious surprise flashing across his face. Then, almost instinctively, he quickly pulled Vanessa behind him, standing between her and Clara in a protective posture, as if Clara were some kind of dangerous monster.

Seeing his subconscious, defensive movement, Clara felt as if an invisible hand had clenched her heart, followed by an overwhelming sense of bitterness and self-mockery. She forced a pale, bitter smile and slowly raised her hand, which was wrapped in layers of gauze and looked unusually heavy.

"Thanks to your sister Lila, she gave me such a 'gift' at my birthday party." Her voice was eerily calm, devoid of anger or resentment, only as still as stagnant water.

Looking at Clara's tightly bandaged hand, Liam's brows furrowed, a complex emotion flashing across his eyes, as if he were momentarily stunned. He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, perhaps wanting to ask "How serious is it?" or perhaps wanting to explain something, but all his unspoken words were interrupted by a soft, weak voice beside him.

“Clara,” Vanessa peeked out from behind Liam, her face showing just the right amount of worry and a hint of disapproval. Her voice was gentle, yet every word pierced the heart, “This is where you went wrong. Lila is young and doesn't understand things. She was probably just playing around and lost her sense of propriety. As her sister-in-law, you should be more magnanimous and more tolerant of her. How could you hold a grudge against her? And end up like this…”

Listening to Vanessa's condescending and distorted words, Clara felt a surge of absurdity. She was only a year older than Lila! Since Lila was always a "child" in their eyes who needed to be tolerated, what right did they have to demand that Clara be infinitely tolerant according to adult standards? This double standard was truly disgusting.

“Miss Vanessa,” Clara said coldly, her gaze sweeping across Vanessa’s pitiful face like an icy blade, finally settling on Liam’s hand that was still tightly holding Vanessa’s. Her tone was utterly indifferent, “What does what’s between Lila and me have to do with you, an outsider?”

She had no interest in watching the couple's display of deep affection any longer. After saying that, she turned and walked around them, wanting to leave this suffocating place.

However, just as she brushed past them, her uninjured left wrist, hanging by her side, was suddenly gripped tightly by Liam! He squeezed so hard that her wrist bones ached.

"Clara!" Liam's face was grim, her voice icy and piercing, filled with barely suppressed anger, as if she were the unreasonable and irrational one. "What kind of attitude is this? Apologize to Vanessa immediately!"

Clara was forced to stop, slowly raising her eyes to meet Liam's now icy, frosty gaze. Once, even the slightest tenderness in those eyes could have made her happy all day. But now, seeing the clear anger and protectiveness towards another woman within them, her heart remained utterly still, as calm as a deep well.

It turns out that when a heart is broken and completely dead, it is truly possible to stop loving and stop feeling pain.

"Why should I apologize?" she asked, enunciating each word clearly, her voice low but carrying an undeniable firmness.

“What did Vanessa say wrong?” Seeing her so “stubborn,” Liam’s anger intensified. He tightened his grip on her wrist, his eyes blazing with fury. “Lila is just a child, naturally lively. Why are you arguing with her? It makes you look petty! Besides, what was that tone you used? Vanessa just got back to the country and was harassed at the airport. She was frightened and hasn’t fully recovered. Now you’ve spoken to her so coldly. How upset she must be! You should apologize to her, both morally and logically!”

It turns out that Vanessa was harassed at the airport. That's why he was so anxious and even went so far as to fight back, getting injured himself in the process, all to protect her.

Clara turned her head and looked at Vanessa, whose eyes were already red and about to cry, as if she had suffered a great injustice. She smiled coldly to herself, a smile that was desolate and sorrowful.

Look at the stark contrast. His beloved was only harassed, and he was on high alert, extremely nervous, wishing he could take her place; while his wife, through his schemes, was almost sent to another man's bed, was pushed down in public at her birthday party, covered in bruises, and had to treat her wounds alone, only to be questioned by him about why she didn't apologize to the person who pushed her, or to his beloved!

It turns out that love and not love can be so vastly different, so cruelly and bluntly defined.

Without any further hesitation, Clara clenched her fist tightly and, with all her might, swung her hand away from Liam's grasp, breaking free from his hold! The movement was so forceful that it aggravated the wound on her right hand, and blood was faintly seeping through the gauze, but she didn't care at all.

“Liam,” she looked at him with an unprecedented distance and indifference, as if she were looking at a stranger, “you should take care of yourself first and go see the injuries you got while trying to be a hero and save a damsel in distress before you talk to anyone else.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she didn't look at them again. She straightened her back, which seemed to bear a thousand pounds of weight, and resolutely turned around. Step by step, she walked firmly into the night outside the hospital gate, leaving behind the couple behind her and all the unbearable past.

Watching Clara's straight back and resolute figure disappear around the corner of the hospital corridor, Liam frowned deeply, a lingering unease and... a strange, unfamiliar feeling settling in his heart. This was the first time Clara had so clearly and thoroughly rebelled against him; there were no tears, no questions, only a cold, aloof indifference. This feeling of being out of control made him extremely displeased.

“Liam,” Vanessa gently took his arm again, tilting her head back. Her carefully drawn eyes were now red and brimming with tears that threatened to fall. Her voice was choked with just the right amount of sob and unease. “I…did I say something wrong? Did I upset Clara and make you two argue…”

Liam withdrew his gaze and looked down at the pitiful Vanessa beside him. The strange feeling he had felt for Clara was instantly replaced by pity. He softened his tone, reached out and gently patted the back of her hand, and comforted her, "It's okay, don't think too much about it. She's just acting strangely today, like she's swallowed a bomb, all prickly. It has nothing to do with you."

After saying that, he turned and walked into the emergency room with Vanessa's help, completely forgetting the disheveled figure of him leaving alone.

Stepping out of the hospital, the cold night wind, carrying the chill of early autumn, hit Clara involuntarily. She shivered and instinctively pulled her thin, wrinkled dress, already soaked with alcohol, tighter around herself. The streets were empty, the streetlights dim, casting a long, lonely shadow of hers. She didn't stop, walking straight to her car parked in the corner, opening the door, and getting in. The enclosed space seemed to still hold a faint scent of the fragrance she had carefully chosen before her birthday party, but now it only felt ironic.

She drove back to the luxurious villa nestled halfway up the mountain, which she had once considered her "home." Pushing open the heavy, ornate door, she was greeted only by a deathly silence and icy air. She didn't turn on the lights, but instead, using the faint moonlight filtering through the window, she slowly walked to the center of the living room, taking a deep, greedy breath, as if trying to capture even a trace of the false warmth that had once existed here. However, all she inhaled was emptiness and chill.

It turns out that the warm haven she had carefully cultivated and cherished was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part, a magnificent prison.

Since that's the case, then she will leave, withdraw completely, and let Liam and Vanessa's "happily ever after" be fulfilled.

Exhausted, she dragged herself up the spiral staircase and into the master bedroom. Without a second glance at the room filled with three years of memories, she went straight to the bathroom, quickly washed up, changed into clean pajamas, and then, like a caged animal drained of all its strength, buried herself in the large but cold double bed. The physical pain and mental exhaustion quickly lulled her into a deep sleep.

When Clara woke up the next day, it was already bright outside. She instinctively reached out and touched the spot beside her—it was cold and flat. Liam hadn't come home all night. This realization, like the last cold boulder, sank into the once tranquil lake of her heart.

She picked up her phone, which was charging on the bedside table. The moment the screen unlocked, a message from an unknown number, but with highly targeted content, immediately caught her eye:

[Miss Clara, so what if you're married into the Foster family? It must be tough maintaining an empty marriage, right? Liam has only ever loved me. Last night, he even neglected your birthday party and your injuries for me. Look, he's sleeping so peacefully beside me.]

The accompanying photos were carefully selected and extremely insulting: one was a candid shot of Liam tightly protecting Vanessa behind him while he was fighting with someone at the airport; another was a close-up photo of the two holding hands tightly in a hospital room, with the veins on the back of their hands clearly visible; and the last photo was a profile of Liam sleeping with his eyes closed, with long, feminine hair scattered on his pillow, against a background that was clearly the warm lighting of a hotel room.

Looking at these blatantly provocative photos, Clara's heart remained completely unmoved. She merely frowned, feeling a slight annoyance at this clumsy and hasty tactic. Just as she was about to raise her hand to block and delete the message and the number, the bedroom door clicked open from the outside.

"Honey? Why are you awake so early? Does your hand still hurt?"