Mark looked at me with a frown. "Still angry, huh?" He exhaled as if offering the final solution to my ungrateful mood. "Fine, I've already contacted an overseas specialist to treat your mom's stroke. Maybe she'll be well enough to join our wedding." Then, with a surprising touch of condescension, he reached out and patted my head the same way he petted Chloe. "Happy now?"

My stomach turned. His lie was as obvious as revolting and I had no energy to confront it. Instead, I turned away, letting the tears fall in silence.

When I didn't respond, he grew impatient. He shoved me, his tone rough. "Did you hear me? Don't look at me like that! You're lucky I'm even trying to be nice. What good are you if you're just bitter all the time? Nowhere is better than Chloe and you have a foul temper, you deserve to be unpopular wherever you go."

My injured foot hit the edge of the coffee table, reopening the cuts, but he didn't even glance back before slamming the door on his way out.

This was his favorite game, his go-to routine for control as tearing me down with insults, cutting me off financially, freezing me out until I cracked until I was crawling back to him, blaming myself and begging for forgiveness. I'd knelt, apologized and even slapped myself to make him stay in the past. But no more. This time, he'd only come back to an empty apartment.

I packed only what he hated—the things he called ugly, tacky. His couple's mugs, my "cheap" sweaters. Then, I used his credit card to book a room at a nearby hotel.

Later that night, after a shower and a moment of calm, I saw Chloe's new social media post: she was flaunting a huge diamond ring.

Chloe: [Happy Anniversary!] the caption read.

Chloe: [Only the dumbest woman would fail to see how amazing this man is.]

Mark knew Chloe's birthdays, anniversaries—even her cycle. But somehow, he had forgotten that today was my birthday, too. Every year, whenever I would suggest celebrating, he would wave me off.

"Rachel, do you even know what it takes to make money? Why waste it on these things? Do you even want to marry me or not?"

I believed him. I would put my life on hold for eight years, sacrificing everything for him. In the end, he had left me with nothing, not even dignity.

I blocked Chloe. If she wanted him, she could have him. I was finally done.

***

The next morning, I woke to my phone vibrating, Mark’s name lighting up the screen. I ignored it, but his voice echoed in my head. "Where did you go this time? Do you think you are still twenty, running off like this? You are nearly thirty, Rachel! And what's with the blood on the carpet? Do you know that's a custom-imported carpet Chloe picked out herself? It cost over two hundred thousand dollars ……!"

I hung up. He had not noticed that I had packed up my life and had not even asked why I was bleeding. To him, as long as it was related to Chloe and what she liked, it was worth more than me—or my mother's life.

If it was me a day ago, I would have blamed myself for those words and tried to find a way to apologize to Mark. But that version was gone.

But now, I had far too much on my mind to waste more emotions on Mark. I glanced at the time, grabbed my things and headed to the mall to buy a new suitcase. After wandering around a bit, I picked out a pink one—the color Mom had always loved.

I suddenly heard a familiar voice while dragging the suitcase to prepare for the crematorium.

"Mark, my foot hurts so much…"

I looked up and saw Mark, with Chloe in his arms. He was gently rubbing her nose before lifting her up effortlessly, all under the curious gazes of bystanders.

I froze in place and suddenly, a memory hit me—the day I begged Mark to go with me to the hospital. Back then, he had been impatient just because of a single word of urgency, shoving me out of the car when I was still pleading. I had fallen, bloodied and in pain. I was unable to get up and wanted him to help me.

"You're not young anymore," he had said coldly, watching me struggle. "Stop pretending. No matter how pathetic you look, I'm not giving you a single penny."

"Chloe is waiting for me," he continued. "When you learn to be as well-behaved and understanding as her, you can ask me for things."

His harsh words and indifferent departure still stung, but now, watching him tenderly care for Chloe, it was like seeing two completely different people.

I clenched my teeth and tried to walk away, but Mark called out to me. He reluctantly set Chloe down.

"So, you're spying on me now?" he asked, his voice tinged with guilt. He then noticed the suitcase in my hand and sneered.

"You spend money like it's nothing. I never promised you a honeymoon trip. Why would someone like you need a suitcase anyway? You never leave the house. Always wasting money on nonsense."

Before I met Mark, I had loved to travel. I had explored half the country by myself. But after I met him, I spent all my money supporting his business ventures. Once his company became successful, he started taking Chloe on exciting trips while I was stuck at home, always in the kitchen.

I am so tired of living like this.

Ignoring his anger, I spoke coldly, "If I want to buy it, I can buy it. Your money is half mine."

I had invested half a million dollars in his business. Two hundred thousand of that had been my mother's savings, money she had put aside as my dowry. Eight years of my life were wasted. But now, I wanted that money back. I needed it to give my mother a proper farewell, to ensure her dignity in death.

"Rachel, you are so shameless," Mark spat, smashing a pendant for dispensing in my face. Then he grabbed Chloe's platinum bag, flaunting it in front of me. "Do you really think I am poor with this amount of money?"

"I am not stingy," he sneered. "You just don't deserve it!"

He raised his voice, drawing the attention of passersby. "There are so many things to do for the company. I will spend money on Chloe because she is worth it. She deserves my appreciation for her hard work. But you? You are useless. Always lazy, always causing trouble. You can't even handle the simplest things. All you know is to fight over jealousy and disgrace people!"

I pressed my hand to my forehead, feeling the warm trickle of blood from where the pendant had hit me.

My silence seemed to make Mark think I was once again backing down. He softened his tone.

"Fine, fine. You can buy it. Just stop playing the victim. I am not that bad and not short of money. I'm happy to spend it on the wedding. As long as you well-behave, I won't…"

But then, out of nowhere, Chloe burst into tears.

"Mark, everyone's staring at me. Do you think your sister hates me? Is she trying to embarrass me?"

The whispers around us grew louder. Mark was afraid that Chloe would be upset. He glanced my way, but rather than confronting me, he comforted Chloe, protectively guiding her away. I was left standing alone, facing the crowd's judgmental stares.

I looked down at the shattered trinket on the ground. It is such a small thing, yet it costs thousands. Mark certainly wasn't lacking in wealth. He would use it to shower Chloe with gifts, flaunt a grand wedding and boost his image—but spending it on me? That, he would never do. He thought I wasn't worth it and unnecessary.

Years ago, I had loved Mark deeply. A hollow promise or a cheap gift was all it took to make me stay. But now, it wouldn't happen again.

I wiped the blood from my face, feeling nothing and maxed out his credit card.

***

I spent the money for our wedding venue on a luxurious plot in Mom's hometown cemetery. I bought the finest urn for her ashes with the funds for wedding photos. When I was ready to go back to the hotel, I realized I had left something at Mark's office, so I detoured to pick it up.

Chloe has sidelined the colleague who used to befriend me as a receptionist. The new receptionist deliberately made things difficult, asking me to prove my identity.

"Can you prove you belong here?" she sneered.

I searched my bag, realizing I didn't have a single photo of me and Mark together. She rolled her eyes.

"People like you think you can just show up? Everyone knows Mr. Caldwell only cares about Chloe."

I didn't need her to tell me that; the lobby walls were already plastered with pictures of them together. I was about to call him when Mark appeared, irritation plain on his face.

"What are you here for now?" he demanded.

"My mother's peace charm," I replied evenly. Mom, despite her illness, had gone out of her way to get it blessed, hoping Mark and I would live a life she couldn't—a life full of love, free from bitterness. It's a pity. Mark doesn't deserve my love, nor does he deserve Mom's expectations.

Chloe smirked. "Mark didn't need that tacky old thing. I threw it out ages ago. Why don't you try upgrading your taste, sister? Here, I will give you this necklace. Mark bought me plenty and I am sure you have never worn anything like it."

I couldn't bear it and raised my hand to slap Chloe. But before I could do it, in the next instant, I felt a searing pain as my head hit the edge of a desk. Everything spun and I barely registered that Mark was gripping my hair, forcing me to apologize to her.

Pain engulfed me. My suitcase slipped from my hand, spilling open on the floor. Before I could react, Chloe snatched up the urn inside.

"Oh, what's this? It's so pretty. Mark, can I keep this box?"

"Don't touch my things!" I lunged, trying to grab it back, but the pain was overwhelming and I collapsed to the floor. Chloe looked down at me and then, with a twisted smile, hurled the urn to the ground.

As the urn shattered, my heart into pieces. "Mark, that was my mother's ashes," I choked out. "Do you remember your promise to her? The one where you swore to marry me in honor and give me a good life?"

He had once vowed to be my protector, treat me well and cherish our love. All lies.