Terrence jerked the steering wheel, but the collision was unavoidable.

The violent impact sent the entire car into a brutal shake, airbags bursting open in an instant.

My head slammed against the seat, dizziness flooding my senses.

Instinctively, I wanted to check if Terrence was safe. But he didn't spare me a single glance.

Every shred of his attention was on Sienna. He even used his body as a shield, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Sienna, are you still with me?" His voice trembled with panic I had never heard before, blood dripping down his forehead that he didn't bother to wipe away.

In his arms, Sienna whimpered, shivering like a wounded bird. "Terrence, my hand hurts... my head too..."

They were performing their tragic love story in the front seat.

And I—the one hurt the most—sat forgotten in the back.

Without the protection of an airbag, the force of the crash threw me hard against the door, then slammed me back again.

My head smashed into the window, glass shattering into glittering shards. The wound on my back tore wider, warm blood soaking rapidly through my clothes.

Only then did Terrence glance toward the rear seats.

Hesitation flickered in his eyes... but in the next heartbeat, he turned back to Sienna.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. Onlookers rushed forward, prying at the mangled doors, shouting for help.

"Save Sienna first!" Terrence's urgent cry cut through the chaos, as if he had completely forgotten that I was still trapped, bleeding, barely conscious.

My vision blurred, crimson flooding every corner. I struggled to scream for help, to make him remember me.

Just once—I wanted the man I had saved years ago to save me in return. But Terrence carried Sienna carefully out of the car, murmuring soft reassurances.

He didn't look back. Not once. Not even for a single heartbeat of hesitation.

The numbness of blood loss crept through my limbs.

As darkness closed in, one last bitter thought surfaced: He once promised, when proposing, that he would never let me get hurt. Yet he couldn't keep that vow for even a single year.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed.

"You're awake!" The nurse's voice quivered with excitement. "If you haven't woken up soon, Mr. Hanson was ready to buy out the entire hospital just for you!"

Her eyes softened with envy. "You're so lucky to have a husband who loves you this much. He even had people redecorate your ward so you'd feel more comfortable. And every day, he brings fresh flowers—never the same kind twice."

I turned my head.

On the bedside table, the vase was brimmed with blooming crabapple blossoms—the one flower I hated most.

"Really?" My lips curved in a cold smile. "He loves me that much?"

Oblivious, the nurse pulled out her phone and eagerly showed me a video that had gone viral online.

"Of course! Look—this proves how much he cares! He risked his life to pull you out of the wreckage."

The shaky footage, taken by a bystander at the crash scene, showed Terrence cradling someone from the passenger seat, carrying her out with painstaking care.

Her face was hidden, but her delicate frame was unmistakable.

The comments overflowed with admiration—praising him as a true man, a devoted husband, a lover who cherished his wife above all else.

Yet the woman he rescued so tenderly... wasn't me.

While the internet envied the love I supposedly had, I had been left bleeding and dying inside that car.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Yes... he really does love me."

The nurse's smile faltered. She quickly excused herself and slipped out of the room.

Moments later, Terrence entered, carrying yet another fresh bouquet.

The moment he placed the flowers into a vase, I shoved them violently to the floor. "Get out! I said get out!"

Shards of glass scattered across the tiles.

Terrence didn't get angry. Instead, he crouched down and began picking up the fragments. A sharp hiss escaped his lips when one of the shards sliced his finger.

Instinctively, he looked at me. But I didn't spare him even a glance. My face was turned firmly toward the window.

A heavy silence pressed against him.

Finally, he stood, moved to sit by the window, and forced my face into his hands.

"I know you're angry with me," he said lowly. "But at that moment, I could only save one person."

"Sienna was closer. So I pulled her out first."

"Besides—look at you. You're fine, aren't you?"

As if to sweeten his excuses, he pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket as though it were some magic trick. "Eat something sweet. It'll make you feel better."

He unwrapped it and tried to feed it to me.

With disgust burning in my veins, I slapped his hand away. "Are you deaf? I told you to get out!"

The chocolate rolled across the floor, spinning several times before coming to a stop.

Being cursed at again and again stripped away the little guilt he had left. His expression hardened as he sprang to his feet.

"Keep this up, and I'll cut off your brother's treatment!"

I raised my trembling hand and pointed toward the door. "Get. Out."

This time, he slammed the door behind him.

I buried myself in the blankets, sobbing until my throat was raw, until my lungs burned.

During my hospital stay, Terrence came almost every day.

And every single time, I threw him out.

The fights grew sharper, uglier, louder.

He was the one who broke every principle, yet to outsiders, it looked as though I was spoiled and unreasonably difficult—as though I was the wife who never knew when to stop.

I pressed my palms over my ears, whispering silently to myself, 'Fifteen more days. Just fifteen, and I'll finally have that divorce certificate.'

But I never imagined that on the day of my discharge... Sienna would dare show up.

She looked as radiant as ever, wearing flawless makeup, and elegant clothes. But the venom in her smile hadn't changed a bit.

Her eyes swept me up and down, then she clicked her tongue in disdain. "A pheasant will always be a pheasant, even if it flies onto a branch and pretends to be a phoenix."

"Denise, why is your life so disgustingly lucky? First, you played the part of the fragile little flower and seduced Riguel. Then you latched onto Terrence when he was still just a promising nobody."

Her sweet face twisted with malice. "But none of that matters. I crushed you once, and I can crush you a thousand times more."

Sienna sneered as she waved the video she had cherished for years right in front of me.

“Back then, didn’t you look just like a gutter rat dragged into the light?”

On the screen, my face was pale green with shame, my body stripped bare.

Countless phones pointed at me, flashing, as waves of laughter crashed over me.

Some even reached out, mocking me with their hands.

I had thought I’d already left the past behind. But when the nightmare replayed itself, I shook uncontrollably. The old wound beneath its scab began to burn and itch.

My gaze flickered to the fruit knife resting on the table.

"What's wrong?" Sienna's voice dripped with mockery. "Uncomfortable?"

"I heard you developed depression after being expelled and even had suicidal tendencies?"

Her laugh rang like a death knell. "You're crazy, and your brother is a dead cripple. No wonder you're siblings."

She leaned closer, shoving the phone against my face, forcing me to watch.

"Do you know? I have so many of these videos. When I was abroad, I watched one every night before bed."

Her smile curved sharper, her words slow and deliberate, savoring my pain. "Oh, and one more thing. Something you probably don't know..."

She paused, enjoying my trembling silence. "The day your brother died... I was in bed with Terrence."

My fingers tightened secretly around the fruit knife.

Hidden under the blanket, my hand was already riddled with shallow cuts—pain keeping me barely tethered to reason.

"You came all the way here just to tell me this. What do you want, Sienna?" I choked out.

"I'll divorce Terrence. You don't need to push me like this."

Her eyes widened, stunned for a split second before fury flushed her face.

"Divorce? Do you think I need you to step aside? You're nothing but a filthy parasite!"

With sudden force, she shoved me off the bed.

I hadn't expected her to strike so openly. My body slammed hard against the cold floor.

Freshly healed wounds tore open, sending a sharp burst of pain through me. My vision swam in black.

The knife slipped from my hand and clattered loudly against the tiles.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to get up. But Sienna's heel pinned my wrist down without hesitation. The sharp stiletto dug cruelly into my flesh.

"Did you really think a lowlife like you could compete with me?" she sneered.

Just then, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

In an instant, Sienna smeared my blood across her face, collapsing into pitiful sobs.

When Terrence pushed open the door, all he saw was me on the floor in a pool of blood... and Sienna weeping delicately behind him.

"Terrence," she cried, clinging to his sleeve, "I only wanted to congratulate Sienna on being discharged. She grabbed my hand and—she... she tried to throw herself on the knife!"

He froze, instinctively reaching to help me up—but her trembling whimpers halted him mid-step.

He pressed his fingers against his temple, voice taut with irritation. "Denise, can't you, just once, stop making things difficult for me?"

"For days I haven't had a single good night's sleep because of you."

I stared at the dark shadows beneath his eyes, bitter laughter rising in my throat.

"Not sleeping well... is that because of me? Or because you've been in Sienna's bed?"

He faltered, then crouched down to wipe the blood from my face. His voice softened to something almost coaxing.

"Denise... sometimes, it's better to pretend you don't understand. It's easier for both of us."

"I love you—but that doesn't mean I can't like another woman."

"When I've had enough of her, I'll avenge you. I promise."

The last sentence was whispered, almost too soft to hear.

I scrambled back, but his lips still brushed the corner of mine.

Not a flicker of emotion stirred in me—only revulsion.

So vile that in that moment, I regretted ever meeting him.

...

When they finally left, my phone rang.

"Miss Watkins," a staff member's voice came over the line, "we've checked the system. Both you and Mr. Hanson is registered as unmarried."

I froze. "What... what did you just say?"

"The marriage certificate you submitted—it's fake. There's no record of your marriage anywhere in the national registry."

My mind went blank. Even the pain in my body seemed muted.

"Miss Watkins? Are you still there?"

"I..." My throat was dry, words scraping out like sand. "You're saying... the certificate was fake?"

"Yes." The confirmation was merciless.

"The number doesn't exist, and the details don't match. Legally speaking, you and Mr. Hanson was never married. Which means your divorce agreement cannot take effect."

"I understand. Thank you." I ended the call mechanically. The phone slipped from my hand.

Fake...

The word pierced straight through my chest.

Terrence had given me a counterfeit marriage certificate. He had crowned me with the empty title of "Mrs. Hanson," letting me devote myself to him, wait for him, and endure humiliation after humiliation.

He had never once intended to give me a rightful place in his life.

Disgust welled up inside me—stronger, more suffocating than the revulsion I'd felt when he kissed me.

My stomach twisted. I gagged violently, but nothing came out.

Only tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. And yet, there was one silver lining to this devastation—At least now, I saw him clearly for what he truly was: rotten to the core.

And it made walking away that much easier.

After bandaging my wounds at the hospital, I went straight to the nurses' station and demanded the surveillance footage from earlier.

Sienna still thought I was the same Denise she once tormented.

When she returned from abroad, I hadn't fought back—because I trusted Terrence.

Because I believed his promises.

But now I know better.

What's owed to me, I'll reclaim with my own hands.

Armed with the footage and every record of Sienna's harassment, I compiled everything into a single folder.

I scheduled the files for a timed release.

...

Back at the villa, I packed.

The luxury items Terrence bought me—I left them untouched.

When I moved in, I only brought one small suitcase.

Now that I was leaving, I filled barely half of it.

Without looking back, I headed straight for the airport.