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."

Ruth's POV

Every time Mackenzie stooped to her usual, tired tricks of jealousy, Shane always reacted the same way.

Back then, I felt as if the world had hurt me so badly, so deeply, that I could hardly breathe. I clung to him, begging for an explanation, desperate for some shred of comfort.

But now, at this moment, I felt only a sense of release.

'Yes, Shane. Think of me as a scheming, jealous woman. Think of me as vile. Then let me go. Let us never see each other again in this life.'

Right then, Shane's eyes flicked to my hand, bloodied beneath the fallen shelf, but instead of reaching for me, he turned away. He pressed a bandage gently onto the scratch on Mackenzie's forehead.

"You'll stay here," he said flatly. "Reflect on yourself."

Before locking the door, Mackenzie leaned in close, her breath brushing my ear as she whispered, "Ruth, this time, I'll make sure you die."

The heavy door closed behind her with a bang. Fueled by a survival instinct, I lunged forward using all my remaining strength.

But before I could even move, Shane's boot struck me square in the chest, sending me crashing to the floor. I couldn't rise again.

"Ruth," his voice rang coldly above me, "reflect until you can be obedient again—just like before."

Just like before?

As if the person I once was still existed. As if the word 'before' still meant anything.

The basement was cold, damp, and lightless.

I lived among rats and cockroaches, sometimes fighting them for scraps of food.

I lost count of how many times I woke, only to faint again from the agonizing pain in my fractured wrist.

With no signal, my phone served only as a clock, reminding me that time was slipping away.

The next time I opened my eyes, I realized it was the day the divorce agreement would come into effect.

And then I saw it: the basement door, once locked tight, now left slightly ajar.

A broken laugh slipped from my lips.

Tears welled up as I thought to myself, 'So even now, Shane, you can't bring yourself to give me more than a stingy scrap of mercy.'

And yet, for me, that scrap became salvation.

I might even thank him for giving me this one chance to end things between us.

But just as I was about to leave, a strange knocking echoed from the far wall of the basement.

Drawn by something I couldn't understand, I searched until I discovered a hidden panel. Behind it was a tight passageway.

Inside, huddled close together, were two gray-haired elders.

I crept closer, my heartbeat stuttering when I saw their faces. "Dad? Mom?"

My parents... why were my dead parents here?!

"Ruth…"

My mother's voice was hoarse, her hair was disheveled, and her body appeared frail. She rasped my name as if it were the last thread keeping her alive.

My father cradled a bowl of slop meant for dogs, his mind shattered, giggling to himself. I wrapped my arms around them, sobbing so violently it shook my bones. The pain in my broken wrist sharply reminded me—this was no dream. I held them tightly and wept, the pain in my wrist cutting through the fog; this was not a dream.

"Dad, Mom, I'm sorry! I've been such a useless daughter…"

My mother tried to soothe me with what little strength she had.

"It's not your fault, Ruth. If it weren't for that beast, Shane, how could our family have fallen to this?" Her voice broke, and she coughed blood into her palm.

Three years ago, my parents were proud and powerful, giants in the business world. Now, because of my foolish marriage, they have been reduced to this—abused, starved, beaten.

Every cell in my body shook with rage.

Then and there, my mother told me everything.

How Shane had locked them in the basement, feeding them rotted food and dog scraps.

How Mackenzie had tortured them, beating them until their flesh was bruised beyond recognition, until my father lost his mind.

And it all stemmed from a few words from Shane's mother, Viola.

"She's from a rich family," the old woman had warned. "Their company's worth tens of millions. She's not someone we can control. If she rebels one day, you'll suffer for it. Better to get rid of her parents and say they died in an accident. That way, she'll be alone, with no one to rely on. She'll be obedient to our Ackerman forever."

Realizing this, I dug my nails so hard into my arm that blood welled in tiny rows of scarlet.

With that, I swore to myself, 'Shane, divorce can never settle this debt between us. You dared to touch my parents. I'll make you pay with blood!'

"Dad, Mom, let's get out of here first."

With my ruined hand, I dragged them onto my back, hauling us through the hidden passage.

As we emerged into the light of day, my phone rang.

It was Atty. Montgomery.

"Miss Coleman, the evidence you provided has been verified. The divorce agreement will take effect today."

Sunlight spilled over my eyes, but it no longer warmed me. It was colder than ever.

"Atty. Montgomery," I answered, my voice steady, icy as steel. "This isn't just about divorce anymore. I want Shane to spend the rest of his life in prison."