Victor was overjoyed as he held me in his arms back then. "Thank goodness! Aly, you're finally awake. If you hadn't made it, I wouldn't have wanted to live on, either. I don't care that my legs are crippled. Nothing else matters as long as I've managed to save you."

People were usually selfish in the face of disaster.

However, Victor had supposedly lost the use of his legs to save me, and countless media outlets praised his selfless love.

Later, to inspire the nation and showcase love and humanity, Victor was even selected as one of that year's Top Ten Most Touching People in the country.

Everyone waited eagerly for good news about us.

The media reported on us daily, hoping we'd get married. The public wanted to see a glimpse of true love—that after Victor's sacrifice, I would be grateful and respond to his love. Even my parents told me that they would disown me if I ever betrayed Victor.

So, I married him under the weight of everyone's expectations.

But after only three months of marriage, Victor showed his true colors.

When a downstairs neighbor gave us some fish he caught, Victor poured the scalding fish soup straight over my head. When I thanked a deliveryman, he grabbed the nearest ashtray and smashed it against my head.

The first time, he said he was insecure. He claimed that seeing others giving me things made him suffer. The second time, he said he was just too afraid of losing me when he saw me talk to another man.

But I knew too well that domestic violence never stopped at once or twice. So, I asked for a divorce.

My family and my neighbors tried to talk me out of it. Even the women's aid organizations tried to do the same. The doctor who examined my injuries also only gave me a cursory glance, saying they didn't even count as minor wounds.

When I went to file for divorce, the clerk kept saying that the printer was broken.

Even my parents declared tearfully before the media, "It's our fault for not raising our daughter properly. We will never let her divorce him. Victor is such a good man."

Thanks to Victor, they had the honor of having one of the most "touching" people in the country as a son-in-law.

My father could hold his head high at work because of it, and even my younger brother found a well-off girlfriend thanks to the connection.

For three years, I tried countless times to get a divorce, but I failed every time.

Victor probably realized that I would never be able to leave him, which led to him beating me so badly that I couldn't stand. I had to crawl toward the door desperately, trying to beg for help.

However, a tall shadow loomed behind me.

When I turned my head, Victor was holding up a chair and smiling coldly. "Dear, where are you going?"

This time, it took me half a month to recover.

That was when I discovered the truth—that Victor had been pretending all along. He said he did it because he loved me, afraid that I'd leave him.

What he did to "save" me had already become a legend nationally. Even if I went out now and told everyone that Victor was never paralyzed, no one would believe me.

Today, I actually bought a packet of rat poison. I decided that, if I couldn't get a divorce, I'd just take him with me.

But now, an opportunity had appeared.

I glanced at the hidden camera subconsciously. I'd heard that this program was being broadcast nationwide. As long as Victor stood up in front of everyone watching online, then I might finally be able to get my divorce.

It was always easy to make Victor angry. If I brought him water that wasn't exactly at the right temperature, he would hurl the cup at me without any hesitation.

This time, I deliberately poured a cup of boiling water that was still steaming hot.

"Honey, have some water." I knew the hidden camera was filming, but I still couldn't stop myself from trembling whenever I faced Victor.

"Thank you, dear." Victor looked at the clearly steaming hot cup of water. However, instead of flying into a rage, he reached out for it with a smile.

I didn't hand it over to him. Gritting my teeth, I pretended to slip and poured the scalding water straight onto his legs. Surely, that would make him lose control and jump up in anger.

I shut my eyes. Just imagining what would follow made my body tremble out of instinct, but inside, I was already overwhelmed with joy.

Time passed, but no fists came crashing down on me like they always would before.

I opened my eyes to see that Victor hadn't moved.

He was still sitting perfectly upright in his wheelchair. There was no trace of anger on his face, but instead, he had a deeply apologetic expression. "Sorry, dear. I didn't grab it properly and spilled the water by accident. Did it burn your hand? That water looked really hot."

He gently took my hand and checked it over carefully. The tenderness in his expression clashed violently with the cruelty I remembered.

Just last time, the water I brought him wasn't at the exact temperature he wanted, and he had punched me right in the eye. I couldn't see clearly out of my left eye for a whole week.

I stood there, frozen.

Meanwhile, the comments were flowing rapidly on the broadcast.

"Isn't this abuse? That was boiling water!"

"Even if Victor's legs are paralyzed, she can't just do that on purpose!"

"She probably just lost her patience with her husband after taking care of him for so long. Now, she's taking it out on him."

"She married him because she wanted fame back then, and now she's mistreating him."

Why was Victor acting so strangely today? Could he have already found out about the interview and was deliberately putting on an act?

I quickly dismissed the thought. When I met with the reporter, Jack Pierce, today, he had promised that the broadcast wouldn't go public in advance. So, there was no way Victor could have known. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Hoarsely, I said, "I'll go pour another cup."

It didn't matter—I would have more chances.

With how volatile Victor's temper was, it was incredibly easy to provoke him. I kept telling myself that over and over.

I "accidentally" mopped and waxed the floor to make his wheelchair slip. I took the toilet paper away and pretended not to hear him calling for me. I even went downstairs to give the neighbor some pastries I'd made myself.

However, Victor maintained a calm smile the whole time.

My anxiety only grew, and it peaked at dinner. So, I decided to take a bigger risk.

Victor had a pineapple allergy, so I made some pineapple salsa especially for him.

When his face broke out in red rashes and his breathing turned labored, I felt a surge of fear. If he actually died, the police would probably call me a murderer. So, I hurriedly fed him antihistamines.

"From boiling water to an allergy-triggering dish. There's no way anyone would believe she's innocent. The authorities should investigate this woman."

"Victor loves her so much. What more could she possibly want?"

"She's definitely cheating. Who gives homemade desserts to a neighbor like that? Clearly, she's trying to seduce others because she's not satisfied with her husband anymore!"

After dinner, I replayed everything that had happened today in my mind over and over again as I washed the dishes in the kitchen.

Suddenly, a tall figure appeared behind me and yanked me backward.

I fought back with everything I had, pried his hand off, and bolted to the spot the hidden camera could clearly see.

Victor followed, rage burning in his eyes.

When his fists came down on me, I felt pain, but also overwhelming relief.

He had finally revealed himself.

Late at night, while Victor was asleep, I slipped into the stairwell and called the reporter from earlier.

"Jack, it's me."

He replied coldly and curtly on the other end, and his voice was tinged with irritation.

"Jack, did you see the stream today?" As I held my phone, tears began to fall.

It had been three years, and I was finally seeing a glimmer of hope.

Jack gave a derisive snort. "Of course, I saw it. Alicia, how could you abuse your husband and savior like this? Aren't you afraid of retribution?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Didn't you look at the stream tonight?"

He replied impatiently, "We might be filming covertly, but we still respect your privacy. The camera automatically shuts off after 9:00 pm."

A wave of endless despair crashed over me, and I could barely register Jack's next words. "I'm telling you, you'd better treat Victor better. The whole internet's after you now. If you keep this up, someone might beat you up in the streets!"

Then, all I heard was beeping as the line went dead.

The spots where Victor had beaten me started to throb sharply. I couldn't even keep myself up anymore as I crouched down, and tears dripped one by one onto the screen.

Then, I searched for today's news. I scrolled past one headline after another, realizing that many clips from the broadcast had been turned into short videos.

I saw myself deliberately splashing boiling water on Victor. Then, I watched as I went out of my way to send desserts to the neighbor downstairs. After that, I saw myself forcing Victor to eat the pineapple salsa that triggered his allergy.

The comments beneath the videos were laden with insults.

"That monster. Has she forgotten that she owes her life to him?"

"When love turns into a burden, it ends with violence and pain."

"I'm terrified of marriage now. Maybe those who say that women are the ones who suffer in marriage should watch this video. This hero of love ended up losing everything!"

"Just watching this is making me suffocate. Marriage really is a gamble. If you face violence like this, you should use the law to protect yourself!"

"Why doesn't that wrench just die already? I'm furious!"

"She's so ungrateful! Without her husband, she'd have died years ago!"

I'd heard words like these countless times before.

But the truth was, if it weren't for Victor, I would never have been trapped under the rubble. And if this world hadn't chained me to the concept of gratitude, I wouldn't have spent all these years in a hopeless marriage.

Numbly, I kept scrolling through the videos until I stumbled upon one clip.

In that instant, I understood why Victor had been acting so abnormally today.

The next morning, the broadcast resumed, and Victor was once again playing the part of the gentle husband. He thoughtfully prepared breakfast for me, watching every one of my movements with tender care.

When he beat me the night before, he had avoided all the parts of my body that were visible to the camera. So, on-screen, I looked perfectly unharmed.

"What a perfect man. If it weren't for his legs, I'd marry him in a heartbeat."

"I hope this woman realizes the man who loves her the most is right by her side."

The comment section was once again full of praise for Victor.

I watched as he struggled to push his wheelchair into the kitchen, and followed behind him. Then, I picked up the kitchen knife that I had been sharpening the entire night.

Making sure the camera could see everything, I stood behind Victor, raised the knife, and aimed it at his neck.

The comment feed exploded.

"What did I just see?"

"That has to be edited, right?"

"No way. Am I hallucinating this early in the morning?"