My name was Janice Moore. In the fourth year of marriage, my husband Dean Reese, sent me to a mental hospital.

He said his beloved woman had suffered for years because of our marriage contract.

He completely forgot that it was he who actively sought the marriage contract in order to establish himself in his family.

Under his deliberate indulgence, I was tortured to death.

When I opened my eyes, I no longer wanted to help him. I let him struggle in the quagmire of his family.

But he begged me to help him again. I smiled and kicked him away, saying, "But this time, I don't want to help you."

***

My last memory was about me in the hospital ward.

The pain of electric shock was truly unforgettable.

Those people, under Dean's instructions, gave me a sedative and made me watch the wedding of the century on TV with my eyes wide open.

My husband and my maid's daughter were getting married.

Their mocking voice echoed in my ears.

"They are true love. You're so cheap. You insist on making him love you and won't leave. Shameless sluts like you should go to hell."

The sound of electricity in my ears was replaced by a familiar male voice.

I blinked and saw Dean's face, which had become many times younger.

He protected Abby Nicholson as if he was her knight.

He looked at me with disgust. "It's just a dress. So what if it gets dirty? You shouldn't give her a hard time."

Give her a hard time?

I looked down at the black ink on the white dress and recalled this memory from the depths of my mind.

Today was my piano competition, and Abby somehow got a bottle of ink and threw it at me.

She spilled ink on me.

And she smiled at me in a nasty way, saying, "Janice, wearing this dress to the competition will attract more attention."

Before I could say anything, Dean rushed out to defend her.

This attracted a group of onlookers who pointed at me while whispering.

Later, somehow the principal knew, and my parents had to come here. I received disciplinary action.

I, the victim, was punished.

How ridiculous it was.

The same plot happened again? Come on.

I reached out and picked up the ink bottle from the ground, smeared my hands with ink, and wiped it on Abby's dress in her astonished eyes.

I heard Dean angrily ask, "What are you doing?"

I smiled and said, "It's just a dress. So what if it gets dirty? Are you so biased?"

He looked guilty and avoided eye contact with me.

I realized that they had already gotten together at this time, and I was the only one who didn't know.

Fortunately, I came back.

In my previous life, I was miserable.

My family went bankrupt, and I found Dean and begged him for mercy.

But he threw the red wine on the ground and pointed at the glass on the ground, saying to me, "Apologize to Abby while kneeling, and I will let you off."

I knelt.

I knelt, and the pieces of glass penetrated my skin.

It was painful and cold.

The two sensations stimulated my senses, making me even more awake.

I looked at Abby with a smile and said word by word, "I was wrong. Miss Nicholson, Mr. Reese, please spare our family."

Abby, like a frightened little rabbit, exclaimed and hid in Dean's arms. She said, "Dean, her eyes are so scary. She used to bully me. Will she retaliate against me after her comeback? I'm scared!"

Dean patted her back with a gentle and affectionate look. "No, she won't have a chance."

Then he waved to the bodyguards behind him, and they dragged me away as if I were a dead dog.

I screamed hoarsely behind the two, but they ignored me.

When I woke up, I was already in a mental hospital.

Under Dean's instructions, I was not allowed to leave and received "special care" every day.

My wounds healed and then were ripped open, my nails grew back and then were peeled off, and the continuous electric shocks made me wish for death...