Ruth's POV

There wasn't much to pack in the room, just a few belongings, mostly clothes. But what weighed me down wasn't the items themselves; it was the memories each one carried, tucked away in every corner of the room, and the hollowed-out version of myself I was desperate to leave behind.

By the bedside, sat a rabbit plushie, its skirt frayed and a button missing, yet it was still spotless, washed clean. It had been a birthday gift I had shamelessly begged Shane to buy for me.

He always bought La Mer for Mackenzie, and she had emptied more than a few bottles by now.

But every time she finished one, I washed this little rabbit again and again, until it looked brand new. As if by keeping it spotless, I could trick myself into believing Shane hadn't forgotten me.

How foolish.

I tossed the rabbit into the trash, feeling a sharp ache in my chest.

'Shane, the part of me that kept begging for your favor, I don't want it anymore...'

But before the rabbit's soft white fur even touched the trash, Shane's hand grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and cruel.

With a tone of utter contempt, he inquired, "Ruth, what are you up to now? Playing hard to get? You have no job, no parents. If you leave the Ackerman family, what will you do? Beg on the streets?"

His words twisted deep in my gut.

My heart clenched with pain. "Shane, you were the one who once said—"

I paused, locking eyes with him, my mind screaming the words I couldn't say aloud: 'It was you, Shane. You told me I didn't need a job, that being your spoiled princess was enough. You said my parents were out of touch, clueless about love, and couldn't see how good you were to me.'

Yet, upon seeing his eyes, which were filled with hatred, I was rendered speechless.

And at that moment, I remembered.

I had said these words to him before.

All it ever earned me was his disgust.

"Ruth, you really are a fool," I said to myself.

So foolish that it took me this long to see the truth.

There she was, Mackenzie, in the doorway with a triumphant smile, looking completely unapologetic.

"Shane, since Ruth wants to leave on her own, why bother stopping her?"

She casually swung open my wardrobe, taking a handful of my clothes in one swift motion.

Then, Mackenzie added, "Burn everything. Cancel all her cards. Besides, she's obedient. I'm sure in a few days she'll be crawling back to you in a few days, begging for forgiveness."

Shane wrapped his arms around her, his eyes shifting from a glare of hatred directed at me to a soft, almost tender gaze that cut deeper than any knife ever could.

"As expected of my Mackenzie."

Unashamed, Shane's lips met hers in a deep, passionate kiss. The sound of their shared breaths echoed in my ears, each one piercing through me like a thousand needles.

Mackenzie's fingers slid down Shane's chest, her movements deliberate.

Kissing her harder, Shane pulled her closer as though he wanted to become one with her.

They were perfect.

I once bit my lip, refusing to admit it.

I once felt a sense of unwillingness, resentment, and even envy.

But now, I watched, numb, as Mackenzie flicked open a lighter and set my clothes and jewelry ablaze.

The flames crackled wildly, and sparks flew toward me, searing my skin with bursts of pain.

Shane noticed the burn on my arm, but his concern wasn't for me. "Mackenzie, be careful, don't burn yourself."

Then he shot me a cold glance, almost approving, as if silently saying, 'Good. This time, you've learned your lesson.'

I gave a bitter smile.

The last time I dared interfere, I was thrown out into the snow for three days. Frostbite ate away at my body, leaving me with a lifelong chill. I couldn't even drink cold water without trembling.

"Keep burning," Shane said flatly. "Burn until she learns obedience, until she begs."

He wanted me to beg.

But all I wanted was to see these worthless things turn to ash.

When I ran away to be with him, I had nothing. Not even a change of nightclothes. He had gone to great lengths then, buying me slippers identical to mine, running across the city to find them.

Now, as I left, I wanted to go with nothing. Not even these memories that clung to me like chains. I wanted them all burned away.

But then, Mackenzie discovered a hidden compartment in my bookshelf and pulled out an old photograph.

I panicked. "Don't burn that photo!"

It was my parents' last portrait.

She froze, a mocking smile curling at the corners of her lips. "When did Ruth get so 'devoted'? Where was this urgency when you skipped their funeral, all while clinging to Shane so he could tattoo your name on his skin?"

Shane laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "She's pretending. She doesn't want to leave me—she's just looking for an excuse."

Then, Mackenzie flicked the lighter, and flames quickly consumed my father's shirt in the photograph.

I couldn't hold back anymore. The tears I had been holding back spilled freely down my cheeks.

"Please! Anything! I'll do anything, just don't burn that photo!" I cried out, my voice trembling.

'Mom, Dad, forgive your unfilial daughter. Even if it costs me everything, I'll hold on to this one memory of you,' I thought, staring solemnly at the burning image.

Right then, Shane gripped my chin so tightly that my bones nearly cracked.

"See? If you'd been like this sooner, would it have come to this?"

Yes. I should have realized long ago.

I was nothing more than a caged bird to him, unable to break free from his control, and unworthy of even an ounce of his mercy.

After that, Shane tossed a stack of papers at me.

"Sign this, and I'll consider it."

Ruth's POV

The paper in front of me read 'Bone Marrow Transplant Consent Form,' the words stark and cold against the white sheet.

Beneath it was the beneficiary's name: James' Jamie' Dunford

He was Mackenzie's son from her previous marriage to Warren Dunford

Shane and Warren had been close friends and former military colleagues. When Shane brought Jamie home, he knelt at my feet, tears streaming down his face, telling me Warren had died in battle. His last request had been for Shane to take care of his only son, who was born with congenital leukemia.

I once treated that child as if it were my own.

That was, until Mackenzie came back from Europe.

The very next day, Jamie rigged a bucket of scalding water above my door.

The moment I walked in, it drenched me from head to toe, and he screamed, "Ruth is a filthy mistress who stole my mom's husband!"

Now, that same boy sat in Mackenzie's arms, eagerly urging her, "Mom, hurry up! Burn everything that belongs to that witch! Burn her disgusting face too, so she won't dare seduce Uncle Shane again!"

The child didn't know.

If it weren't for my heart condition, the one I'd been fighting in silence for years, I might have been a match for his marrow.

Back when he first came to live with us, I would have done anything for him—motherly instinct, you know?

The thought almost drained me completely.

"Shane," I said hoarsely, "you know the risks. A transplant has a 50% chance of killing me."

He shrugged it off. "Only half. I'll make sure you get the best doctors post-op."

I nodded, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "Perfect. Just perfect. So kind of you to trouble yourself."

"Tell me," I forced out, my voice shaking, "if I sign this, will you let me go? Will you at least let my parents rest in peace?"

Mackenzie snapped her lighter on and off, sparks crackling.

"Ruth, signing or not, it's your choice. But don't make it sound like Shane's forcing you. We could never bear such an accusation."

Forcing me? So, unless a knife was literally pressed to my throat, it wasn't coercion?

I lowered my head and sighed.

My tears bled into the ink, smudging the strokes.

'Mom, Dad, what I owe you, I can never repay in this life. Let me go early, so maybe I'll meet you again in the next one,' I said to myself.

I felt my voice break as I added, "Can I have the photo back, now?"

Mackenzie burst out laughing, doubling over.

And in that moment, everything clicked. The contract was fake.

It wasn't the first time they'd played me like this.

Every time I fell for their tricks, her laugh always sounded the same.

"Shane, remember when you said Ruth was like a dog you raised? I didn't believe you then." Her smirk was sharp. "Now I do. She's too obedient. Even my dog, Bella, needs a bone before he'll lick my shoes. But Ruth? She'll debase herself without needing a reward—just for you."

At the same time, Jamie drew back the slingshot and released it. A sharp stone struck my cheek, blood trickling down to the corner of my mouth. But the cold inside me was so intense that I barely noticed the pain.

"Stupid mistress!" he spat. "My transplant already has a better donor match. Who would want your dirty marrow, even for free?"

Holding the useless, counterfeit agreement in my hands, I wasn't sure whether to feel relief or despair.

Shane looked at me with cold, unwavering eyes.

His words cut through the air, harsh and precise as he said, "Ruth, just admit that you can't live without me."

I answered with more resolve than I thought I had in me. "Fine. I admit it. But are you done playing now? Can you give me back the photo?"

Mackenzie dangled the picture just out of reach, holding it above my head like a treat for a dog.

I reached for it, grasping at air.

By the time I turned the corner, it was already in flames.

The curling ash carried my mother's smiling face, burning it beyond recognition.

"Stop!" I screamed.

My heart pounded as I rushed forward, grabbing the fire with my bare hands, desperate to put it out.

Mackenzie slipped effortlessly into Shane's protective embrace, untouched.

And I fell, the searing heat from the flames burning into my palms, the pain so intense that the world around me faded into darkness.

"Pathetic act," I heard her mutter. "Always putting on a show!"

Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I saw Shane rushing toward me, panic etched across his face. He scooped me up in his arms.

"What an idiot," his voice cracked. "How dare you grab fire with your hands? Call an ambulance now!"

I could barely hear him. Was it real? Was I hallucinating? I must be dying if I'm seeing this.

...

When I woke up, Shane was slumped beside my bed, with dark circles under his eyes. He was deeply asleep. In his hand, he still held the photo with its corners burnt, but it wasn't destroyed.

The scene was all too familiar, yet somehow, it felt so foreign.

I couldn't understand why he refused to share his love with me, yet still refused to let me go.

I only remembered how he had shielded Mackenzie from a blow she'd faked, leaving me to fend for myself.

I only knew one thing for sure: I was no longer his first choice.

Then, my phone buzzed with a message from Atty. Montgomery.

[Miss Coleman, I've confirmed. If you can provide evidence of Shane's infidelity, the agreement will be valid. You have three days left.]

Ruth's POV

For the first time, I didn't feel even a shred of gratitude for Shane's late-night vigil with no desire to look back.

I simply took the photo from his hand, signed my discharge papers quietly, and left.

Three days. That's all I had. Three days to find proof of Shane's infidelity.

After hours of thinking, it suddenly struck me like a lightning bolt.

The Ackerman Mansion's basement....

It had always been Shane's forbidden ground.

Even at our relationship's peak, he never allowed me access in here. When Mackenzie asserted her claim over him, she mocked me for not even having a key to the basement. That was enough for her; it proved that Shane's true love had never been me.

What exactly was down there?

I searched the house, rummaging through every room until I finally found a safe under Shane's bed. Its gunmetal surface gleamed, perfectly clean, indicating it had been used regularly.

I tried Mackenzie's birthday. Wrong.

Shane's birthday. Wrong again.

One more failed attempt, and the alarm would go off.

Sweat dripped down my face as I clenched my jaw. I took a leap of faith, entering our wedding anniversary.

The green light blinked, and with a sharp click, the lid sprang open.

Relief flooded over me, not only because the alarm hadn't gone off, but because, for the first time in what felt like ages, my heart was at peace.

Once, I would've blushed with joy, thinking he'd use my birthday as the password.

But that version of me, which was so desperate and naive, was long gone—tossed aside like the rabbit plushie I had thrown away.

I forced myself to believe it was just because Shane hadn't bothered to change it.

As I stepped into the basement, the scent of pear blossoms hit me, pungent and out of place.

Then, I saw a towering wall of photos over three meters high, completely covered with albums, as dense as ivy.

The sight shook me to my core.

From the time they were five, when Shane and Mackenzie first held hands and gazed at each other with budding affection...to the moment they parted, her plane carving a white trail across the sky.

Every meal shared. Every fleeting season. Every scrap of life between them.

Shane had always brushed me off, saying he hated taking pictures. Our only photograph together was the one on our marriage certificate.

But here, hidden away in this basement, was an arsenal of expensive cameras, each moment with her meticulously captured.

The truth hit me like a punch in the gut.

It had always been for Mackenzie.

From the first glance at five years old to their reunion at thirty, I had always been the outsider.

I snapped photos of every piece of evidence I could find and sent them to Atty. Montgomery, making sure to remind him to back everything up.

But just as I was about to turn around, a voice cut through the silence, sharp and full of malice.

"Do you see it now? You were nothing but Shane's plaything. Not even a proper stand-in for me."

I turned back, and it was Mackenzie.

I didn't bother to ask why she was here at three in the morning.

"I'm divorcing Shane," I said flatly, my voice steady. "You don't need to treat me like an enemy anymore."

Her sneer was immediate, her voice sharp with disdain. "Ruth, do you think I'm stupid? You talk about divorce, but this is just a pathetic ploy to win Shane back. One worthless photograph, and he actually kept vigil by your side for two whole nights. Ruth, you manipulative bitch!"

So that's it. Mackenzie had seen him at my bedside, and the thought of it made her rush here to lash out at me.

"Or maybe," I said quietly, "I never seduced him at all. Maybe he just doesn't love you that much."

Of course, he didn't love me either.

The only person Shane truly loved was himself and the illusion of being a devoted man.

However, Mackenzie interpreted my words as an insult.

Her face contorted with anger, and she struck me twice in the face.

"You slut! No matter how well you pretend to be obedient, one day you'll slip. And today, I'll make sure Shane sees your true face."

Before I could wipe the blood from my lips, she grabbed my hair and slammed my head into the photo wall.

It was perfectly timed, as if fate was pulling the strings.

The towering shelves shook and then collapsed with a deafening crash.

And suddenly, Shane burst into the basement. In one desperate leap, he threw himself forward, bracing his entire body against the falling wall.

He shoved me aside with brutal force.

The shelves fell onto his arm, and my recently healed hand splintered once more under the weight.

The pain was searing. It shot through me, every nerve screaming in agony.

Mackenzie's frantic cries filled the air.

"Ruth, if you had a problem, you could have come to me. Why try to destroy the albums that Shane treasures most? These albums are his very life!"

Shane's face twisted in rage, but he didn't spare me a glance.

And then, my heart sank.

I saw it. His collarbone was clean.

The tattoo of my name was gone.

"Ruth," he said coldly, his voice hollow, "you've truly disappointed me."