There were only a few rides heading back to San Antonio, and the soonest one she could book was two days away.

But Patsy didn’t mind waiting. As long as she could go back home, that was enough.

As dusk fell, the doctor reminded her to rest. But she couldn’t close her eyes for even a second.

She sat by the bay window for a long time, and only when her throat felt unbearably dry did she finally step out to get some water.

The moment she reached the stairway, voices from downstairs drifted up to her.

“So you really just married her for revenge, Cornell? I thought you were just making things up to look good.”

“Yeah, man. Back when you got married, your stupid vows even had all of us tearing up. Who would’ve guessed you actually hated her that much?”

“What’s so unbelievable about that? That bitch—when Cornell hit rock bottom, she couldn't wait clinging to some big shot instead. She didn’t even bother hiring a lawyer, and when she saw Aunt Elspeth jump off the building, that bitch didn’t lift a damn finger to save the poor woman. Patsy’s practically a murderer!”

Patsy’s fingers tightened on the railing until her knuckles turned white.

A bitter smile curved her lips as she thought, ‘If I were a murderer, then every single one of them was an accomplice!’

Where were they when Cornell’s world fell apart?

When the McDermotts were destroyed overnight, bankrupt and stripped bare, and both Cornell and his father ended up in prison, where were his so-called friends?

What could she—a powerless outsider—do? She couldn’t even find a lawyer willing to take the case just because she was connected to the McDermotts.

When she learned Cornell had taken the blame for his father and would spend life behind bars, her hair turned white in a single night. She could only cry and cry until her vision blurred.

She had no other choice. In the dead of winter, she knelt outside his friends’ doors, begging for help. But not a single one of them came out to see her!

In the end, it was a friend who pulled strings and introduced her to a powerful man from France.

That man promised her this: stay by his side, and in two years, Cornell would walk free. Not only that—he’d make sure the McDermotts still had roots to stand on.

She didn’t hesitate. For Cornell’s sake, she would give him anything.

And so began those two years of hell—thrown into a blood-soaked arena, tortured until her body was nothing but scars.

The day Cornell’s mother jumped, someone sent word that she wanted to see Patsy.

She broke her left leg escaping, dragging herself across the city, only to find out it was a lie—his mother hadn’t wanted to see her at all. Elspeth had wanted to die.

Patsy clawed her way upstairs with a numb, lifeless leg. But she was still one step too late.

She was able to touch her mother-in-law’s hand. But Patsy couldn’t save her.

And those so-called brothers of his, where were they?

When she arrived, they were downstairs recording the scene, watching it like it was a show.

She could still hear their voices as if it were yesterday.

“Jump already! What’s with the act? Boring as hell!”

“Damn, Cornell’s mom actually looks pretty hot for her age. If she weren’t insane, I’d take her for a ride myself.”

When the police asked if anyone would go up to talk Elspeth down, every last one of them shook their heads.

Patsy was the only one who tried to go upstairs.

And now, these same men sat there together, shamelessly condemning her.

Patsy almost laughed out loud. But she didn’t bother to explain. No one would believe her anyway.

Her grip tightened around the water glass as she prepared to step forward. That was when his voice cut through the noise.

“Can you all shut the hell up?”

The sound of his anger made her heart jolt. After feeling numb, some part of her still reacted.

He was the same as the man she knew—never allowing anyone to judge what was his. Not even if he hated her.

But the next words rooted her to the spot.

“Stop making me lose my appetite. Do you want me to puke my dinner because of this crap? And those vows? Please. They were ripped off the internet. If you idiots cried at that, maybe you need a brain scan. I’ll give you a discount on our company’s new machine.”

He laughed. “You like bringing her up so much. Should I gift-wrap her for you? You can have her for a couple of days. I’ll even throw in a venue and cameras.”

The room erupted in hoots and jeers, everyone shouting they didn’t want her, even as their eyes gleamed like wolves.

Cornell scanned their faces and made a call to his assistant, Roald Riggs, telling him to make arrangements.

The living room erupted in fawning praises while Patsy’s eyes reddened.

Her flickering gaze brimmed with self-mockery—mocking her own stupid feelings, her one-sided love.

Two years later, and she was still foolish enough to believe he might defend her.

But her heart… God, it hurt so bad, like it had been ripped open.

Because those so-called crappy vows were the faith that carried her through the past two years.

When Cornell walked out of prison, she hadn’t expected to return to his side. The man who’d owned her wouldn’t let her go that easily.

But fate twisted again—the tycoon fell ill and slipped into a coma. And just like that, Cornell took her back.

She would never forget their wedding day. The moment the doors opened, he ran toward her.

They collided in their wedding attire, laughing like they had promised when they were young.

There was no priest because he insisted the vows would mean more if he said them himself.

But when he spoke, he cried so hard he could barely stand. His hands shook as he held the rings.

He knelt before her, devotion shining in his tear-filled eyes.

“Patsy, ten years isn’t enough. Even if I live to a hundred and eight, I’ll still love you without holding back. Even if you betray me, even if you stop loving me, even if you leave me… I’ll still love you. Loving you is carved into my bones. Maybe you don’t understand now, but when we lie side by side in our coffin, crossing into the next life, you’ll know. Will you marry me?”

She never imagined those vows would shatter the very night they wed.

She waited for him in the bridal suite, only for him to return covered in someone else’s kisses—and tell her to move into the guest room.

Later, she learned the truth. He hadn’t married her out of love but out of hatred, one that sank into his bones.

And still, she clung to hope. No matter how many times he hurt her, she explained and explained, praying that one day, things would return to what they once were.

She wasn’t stupid. It was just that Cornell’s vows had been too beautiful.

She had loved him for ten years. She knew the love in his eyes hadn’t been fake. She knew those words had come from the heart.

But in the end, all that certainty crumbled the day her grandmother died.

Patsy was done waiting. She was done explaining. She surrendered.

Whether those vows had been copied online or spoken with sincerity, she didn’t want them anymore.

If anyone was to blame, it was Cornell and his flawless act. He had fooled her for so long.

With a trembling hand, Patsy wiped the tears streaming down her face. Her chest felt so tight she could barely breathe, and she exhaled hard to ease the ache.

At least now, she was awake. At least now, he could never fool her again.

She didn’t go downstairs. Instead, she shut the door, blocking out the chaos beyond it.

Burying herself in the comforter, she lay still for a long while before finally rising to fold her grandmother’s clothes.

That was when the door swung open.

Cornell stood there, his face a thundercloud, his gaze fixed on the garments in her hands.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Patsy froze for a moment but didn’t turn around. Her voice was hoarse when she replied.

“I’m taking Grandma back to our hometown.”

Cornell’s heart, which had been tightly wound, loosened slightly. His face returned to its usual expressionless calm.

“When are you leaving? Send me your return flight details that day. I’ll pick you up.”

Patsy’s lips curved faintly, that same detached smile never wavering.

“No need. I’m not—”

Before she could finish, a sharp and confident voice rang out from the hallway.

“Hon! Come look at my new nail tips! Aren’t they gorgeous?”

It was Stevvi.

Cornell turned on his heel without hesitation, leaving Patsy’s unfinished words—I’m not coming back—lodged in her throat.

She hadn’t planned to make any dramatic declarations. Her only fear was that Cornell hadn’t punished her enough yet and would never let her leave.

After a moment of thought, she decided not to say it.

Slowly, she walked forward and closed the guest room door, shutting out the so-called “husband and wife” outside.

Patsy remembered the first time she heard Stevvi call Cornell honey. Patsy had cried and confronted Cornell about it, only to be met with his indifferent response.

“So what? What do you want from me? Should I beat her for you? Kick her out? Or are you hoping for a threesome?”

“Patsy,” he had said coldly, “the moment you abandoned me, you should’ve known that one day I’d make you pay back double. Don’t forget—this is what you deserve.”

From then on, she understood—this was his revenge.

The three of them… It was not quite a marriage and not quite an affair.

She had heard that word, honey, for two years now, yet she had never once spoken it aloud. Cornell never allowed her to.

Funny thing was, before the wedding, he used to coax her endlessly just to get her to call him that.

He loved that endearment to death, forcing her to say it almost every time before he would give her what she wanted.

But after they got married, he never let her say it again. Maybe the very thought of it disgusted him.

After all, he never saw her as a wife. He could even toss her into another man’s bed like a disposable object.

When she finished packing, Patsy stood up, her knees throbbing with a dull ache.

She glanced out the window. Sure enough, it had started to rain.

Her leg had been injured once, nearly torn apart by a wolf in an underground fighting pit.

Back then, someone had given her an ultimatum: survive ten minutes with the beast, and Cornell would eat and sleep well in prison. Fail, and he’d “receive special treatment.”

She nearly lost her life that day. It wasn’t until a friend sent word that he was safe that she could finally breathe again.

Now, whenever the weather turned bad, her knee burned with a sharp, bone-deep pain.

She stood still for a while before pulling open the bedside drawer in search of painkillers.

Before she could find them, the door burst open.

“Patsy, get out of here.”

She didn’t move. She had no desire to be part of whatever twisted game they were playing.

In the past, she had gone along with him—out of love and out of guilt for failing to save his mother.

But now, her love had worn down to dust. There was nothing left in her heart for her to expect.

That was why when Cornell grabbed her wrist, she snapped, thrashing wildly in his grip.

But every time she broke free, he caught her again—until he dragged her into the living room.

“Stevvi wants to eat hand-peeled walnuts,” he said coolly. “Her nails make it hard to crack them. You do it.”

Patsy stared at the table piled high with walnuts. Her chest tightened as memories flashed across her mind—Cornell scaling a wild mountain just to pick walnuts for her.

It was the day before the SAT. Teachers had told everyone to relax.

But he had skipped class and dragged her into the mountains, climbing trees like a fool and knocking down a rain of walnuts for her.

Fresh walnuts were nearly impossible to crack, but he peeled them open one by one, handing each to her.

“Walnuts are good for the brain,” he’d said with a grin. “Hope you ace the exam tomorrow.”

That was the first time she realized even under a walnut tree, love could blossom.

They had promised—after the exams, they would be together.

She remembered how his hands bled from cracking so many shells. When they returned to class, gathering scattered walnuts, he had said, “Whatever you crave in the future, just tell me. I’ll get it for you. I’d never let my girl hurt herself.”

But now… he had shoved a table full of walnuts at her, asking her to peel them for his mistress.

Patsy’s throat tightened. She blinked hard, forcing her voice steady.

“I don’t want to.”

Cornell, who had just sat down, froze for a moment, then sneered. “You sure about that?”

Her knee ached so badly she could barely stand, but she ignored him and turned away.

That’s when he pulled something from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

“You can refuse if you want,” he said, voice sharp as a blade. “But don’t expect to see your grandma’s bracelet again.”

At the word bracelet, Patsy stopped dead and turned around.

Lying on the table was a delicate string of seashells—the keepsake her grandparents had exchanged as a token of love.

It had vanished years ago, tucked away by her grandmother and forgotten after dementia stole her memories.

Connee had searched everywhere for it, but it never turned up—until now, in Cornell’s hand.

Patsy’s eyes burned red in that instant. Without a word, she dropped to her knees in front of the coffee table.

“I’ll do it.”

Connee hadn’t seen the bracelet before she passed. If Patsy could bring it to her… maybe she’d be happy, wherever she was.

As she cracked the walnuts, her gaze never left the bracelet. She knew it was the one—she had seen it when she was a child.

But the shells were hard, and after a few attempts, blood welled from her fingertips. She resorted to using her teeth.

Just as she brought the walnut to her mouth, a sharp pain exploded across her face.

Stevvi waved her long, manicured nails with a mocking smile. “Ugh, how could you peel them with your mouth? That’s disgusting!”

Patsy felt a burning pain where Stevvi’s nails had grazed her skin.

Before she could even recover, another sharp sting exploded across her face.

Stevvi had thrown an entire bowl of walnuts—freshly shelled by Patsy—straight at her.

“I can smell your spit on them,” Stevvi sneered. “You don’t mind peeling another batch, do you?”

Instinctively, Patsy looked toward Cornell, hoping he’d at least confirm that she had used only her hands, not her mouth.

But his expression was as cold and distant as ever. It was clear he had no intention of defending her. He only wanted her to keep going.

Her lips curved in a bitter, predictable smile as she lowered her gaze. The impact of those walnuts had left her bandaged forehead throbbing, pain pulsing in waves.

She shook her head slightly, and then she glanced at the bracelet clenched in Cornell’s hand before lifting her blood-streaked hands once more.

But the moment she picked up a walnut, her hand was slapped hard.

The sting was electric—literally. The fly swatter Stevvi had used was wired, and the jolt made Patsy’s stomach cramp violently.

Stevvi didn’t show a shred of guilt. Instead, she frowned in disgust.

“Your hands are covered in blood. Yuck. I’m not eating walnuts with blood on them.”

Patsy understood now—Stevvi had no intention of letting her have a moment’s peace.

She turned toward Cornell, ready to speak, when Stevvi suddenly dragged her toward the kitchen.

Before she could even react, pain seared through her fingertips.

Stevvi had poured an entire bottle of alcohol over her hands. The burn was so fierce it made her gasp for breath.

Staring at the smug triumph on Stevvi’s face, Patsy looked at her with cold eyes.

“So that’s your goal? Hurting me just to pleasure yourself? Hate to break it to you, but you completely failed.”

Stevvi didn’t flinch at the insult. If anything, her grin widened.

“Failed? I turned you into the woman Cornell despises the most. And I taught that old hag a lesson along the way. I feel fantastic.”

Patsy froze at what she heard, confusion clouding her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Stevvi chuckled coldly at her reaction.

“God, you’re so stupid. I honestly don’t know why Cornell would choose a little ugly duckling like you over me—a rich, gorgeous socialite.”

Her voice dripped with scorn as she leaned in closer. “Do you want me to spell it out? Why do you think he never found out what you did for him in France? Why do you think he’s in love with me now? And your precious grandma—she really couldn’t handle a little impact, could she? Forty miles per hour, and she went flying.”

There wasn’t the slightest trace of guilt in Stevvi’s expression, no fear at all in revealing the truth. Her face radiated the thrill of winning a game she had orchestrated perfectly.

Patsy trembled with rage at those words.

Ignoring the pain ripping through her hands, she slapped Stevvi hard across the face.

“You’re sick! That is murder!”

But Stevvi wasn’t intimidated in the least. In their circle, blood on your hands was hardly a novelty.

“Go ahead, report me,” she taunted. “See who ends up ruined. Or do you really think Cornell would believe you?”

Her smile brimmed with confidence, and even though fury nearly drove Patsy insane, she knew Stevvi was right.

She had no evidence or witnesses. If she fought Stevvi head-on, she might be the one to end up behind bars.

And if that happened, Connee would never make it home.

Eyes squeezed shut, Patsy bit down on her lip so hard it almost bled, forcing herself to calm down.

When she finally opened her eyes, her hand shot up again—but this time, someone stopped her.

“Can’t even handle shelling a few walnuts?” Cornell’s voice was cold. “You’re so useless, marrying you was a waste of my life.”

With that, he flung her hand aside and stepped protectively in front of Stevvi.

The moment his gaze fell on the red imprint marring Stevvi’s cheek, his face darkened, a storm gathering in his eyes as he turned back to Patsy.

“You hit her?”

The look of accusation in his eyes made Patsy laugh bitterly inside.

‘I guess this is how two people can go from loving each other dearly to utterly loathing each other,’ she realized.

She nodded. “I slapped her. And you—”

Before she could finish, a resounding smack cracked through the room. His palm landed on her face like a slab of iron.

The force sent her staggering into the wall, her ears ringing so loudly she could hear nothing else.

Blood filled her mouth as her tongue brushed against a tooth that had come loose.

Her knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed until Cornell seized her by the arm and yanked her upright.

“If you don’t understand your place in this villa,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut, “then I’ll make sure you do.”