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?”

The moment Stevvi mentioned the “simple wedding dress,” Patsy knew exactly which one she meant.

It was that one Cornell had personally arranged back in college—a collaboration with a world-class brand, designed exclusively for Patsy. She wore that very dress at their wedding.

From the fabric to the design, Cornell had supervised every detail himself. Even the tiny diamonds on it—he had set them in one by one with his own hands.

The dress was simple, yet brimming with love. She remembered asking him back then why he didn’t make her a big, sweeping gown.

His answer had been “Because if you ever try to run away from the wedding, you’ll be able to run faster.”

But Patsy knew that wasn’t the real reason. Deep down, it was his selfishness talking.

He didn’t want the dress to be something she could only wear once. If the dress were less cumbersome, she could put it on more often.

That way, everyone would know whose wife she was—that the one-of-a-kind dress belonged to her alone.

Yet now, it seemed that the dress was about to have a new owner.

Her eyes flickered slightly before she heard Cornell answer.

“Of course, you can have it. But you’ll need to ask its former owner first.”

The sarcasm in his tone didn’t escape Patsy. Calling her the “former owner” meant her opinion no longer mattered.

He was only using that dress as a weapon to mock her.

If this had been before, she would’ve begged him not to give it away. But now… now, she couldn’t care less.

Before Stevvi could even ask, Patsy answered.

“Take it,” she said evenly. “I don’t want it anymore.”

The calmness on her face stirred something strange in Cornell’s chest.

For the past two years, he’d tortured her in every way he could think of. Every time, she’d cry until she couldn’t breathe, desperately explaining her side of the story over and over.

But these past two days, she seemed like a different person. She didn’t cry, and she didn’t try to explain to him anymore.

After a moment’s thought, he convinced himself this was just another ploy. She must be trying to trick him—get him to soften up and fall for her again.

His expression darkened at the thought, his voice laced with venom.

“How generous of you. Why don’t you throw in the amethyst set, too? And the ring. After all, you don’t seem to care anymore.”

Patsy had only one ring—their wedding band. She closed her eyes briefly, and then she slid it off her finger.

“Sure.”

The way she agreed so swiftly made Cornell’s face turn so thunderous that it was almost ugly.

“If you’re that willing,” he sneered, “then give her Connee’s bracelet, too. I’m sure Stevvi loves that piece. Don’t you, Stevvi?”

Stevvi’s fingers dug into her palm as she forced a smile. “Yeah…”

Patsy froze, her voice sharp with panic. “That bracelet’s worthless. Just… return it to me.”

Cornell’s lips curved into a cruel smile.

“I can give it back,” he said softly. “On one condition—you come to the party tonight.”

Her fever still hadn’t broken, but for the bracelet, she nodded.

What she didn’t expect was that the party would be nothing short of a death trap.

“Cornell, what are you trying to do?”

The sight before her made her scalp prickle with terror—a Tibetan mastiff in a steel cage, bared teeth glinting under the light.

The scene dragged her back to those two years of hell. She couldn’t live through that again.

But Cornell’s next words sealed her fate.

“Almost forgot to tell you—the theme of tonight’s party is beast fights. Stevvi’s afraid of dogs, so… you’re up.”

Forgot? No, his tone said he never intended to tell her at all. And Stevvi? She looked anything but scared. She was practically buzzing with excitement.

As drool dripped from the mastiff’s jaws, Patsy’s entire body went rigid. Every instinct screamed for her to run.

She forced her voice to stay calm.

“You only told me to come to the party,” she said coldly. “You never said anything about this. Give me the bracelet. I’m leaving.”