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.”

As soon as the words left Cornell’s mouth, he opened the door and threw Patsy out.

With new injuries piled on top of old ones, Patsy lay weakly on the ground, unable to get up.

The storm lashed down like needles, drenching her clothes in mere seconds.

The icy rain seeped into her bones, and uncontrollable shivers wracked her body.

Cornell stood at the doorway, lips pressed into a hard line, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He watched her struggle—crawl up only to collapse again—and for a fleeting moment, he almost reached out to help her. But he crushed that impulse, forcing himself to turn away.

“Theo,” his voice was cold as he ordered the butler, “watch her. She’s not allowed back inside for at least three hours.”

Without another glance, he started to walk back in.

Patsy pushed herself up on trembling arms and shouted after him, her voice cracking against the downpour.

“Cornell! Stevvi hit Grandma on purpose! I went to France because of you!”

But the storm drowned her words. She didn’t hear a reply, only the heavy thud of the door slamming shut.

A laugh broke from her lips, brittle and broken. Her whole body shook, and the water streaming down her face blurred into tears she could no longer distinguish.

Theo hesitated, heart aching at the sight. He walked over with an umbrella and tried to reason with her.

“Ma'am, Sir Cornell didn’t mean it. Just say something soft. He won’t stay angry forever. You two are husband and wife, after all.”

Patsy shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

Seeing her stubborn refusal to yield, Theo sighed and retreated under the eaves, helpless.

But only Patsy knew—her shake of the head wasn’t just about refusing to give in. It was her silent admission: they weren’t husband and wife anymore.

Since Cornell thought marrying her was a waste, she would solve that problem for him.

The rain didn’t stop; it only grew heavier.

By the time she made it back to her room, her entire body burned with fever.

She collapsed on the bed, slipping into a restless haze. In her dreams, she was back in her childhood home.

Connee was there, teaching her to plant vegetables, pushing her on a swing, making their old house look warm and beautiful.

But when everything was done, Connee smiled and waved goodbye.

A crushing sadness wrapped around Patsy’s heart. She clung desperately to her grandmother’s hand and cried out, “Grandma, don’t go! Please, come back…”

But the moment Connee stepped out of the courtyard, she vanished into thin air.

“Grandma!” Patsy jolted awake, gasping, her voice hoarse.

Her hand had clamped down hard on Cornell’s, making his brows knit in pain.

He quietly pried her fingers off, straightening from the bedside without a word.

Looking down at her sweat-drenched and disoriented face, he let out a sharp and mocking laugh.

“If you miss Connee so much, why don’t you stay at the hospital with her? What’s the point of pretending here? If you’re awake, get up. Help Stevvi pick out a dress.”

Perhaps it was the fever, or the lingering sorrow from her dream, but Patsy’s defenses crumbled in that instant.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, her bloodshot eyes locking on his with raw desperation.

“Cornell… can you hold me?”

She couldn’t even remember how long it had been since that embrace she once loved had belonged to her.

His hand went numb under her grip. He froze, staring into her eyes, dazed for a heartbeat too long until a voice rang from the doorway.

“Hon?”

It was Stevvi. The spell broke. Cornell jerked his hand free with a snap.

“Are you that starved for love, Patsy? Should I find you a few men to fix that?”

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” he warned. “I feel dirty.”

After saying that, he yanked a few tissues from the box and scrubbed his hand over and over, as if her touch had soiled him.

The look of revulsion in his eyes made Patsy go still.

Shame scorched through her as she realized what a pathetic thing she had just done.

Lowering her lashes to hide the tears stinging her eyes, she turned her head away from him.

The air turned thick with silence until Stevvi stepped inside. She paused when she caught the look in Cornell’s eyes, a flicker of malice flashing in her own.

But in the next second, she masked it with a sweet smile and slid her hand through his arm, her tone dripping with coyness.

“Hon, those dresses are all so boring. Can I wear that simple wedding dress to the party instead?”