I never spent the night at the Jacob family estate—Emeric knew that.

After wiping my hands clean, I headed upstairs to call him home. But just as I reached the guest room, I froze.

His voice strained yet raw with anguish drifted through the cracked door.

"Marie, when Mom asked us to divorce today, I almost said yes. But I couldn't. If I let you go, my brother might cast you aside without a second thought. And Marie... I can't stand it. It hurts too much..."

The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the narrow gap, I saw Emeric curled up against Marie, sobbing like a child who had lost his dearest treasure.

She held him gently, soothing him with quiet whispers. Then, as if to erase his sorrow, she slipped off her coat and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

"Emeric, I know you're hurting. Now that I’m your sister-in-law, this is the only way I can make it up to you. Whatever I owe you, I’ll find a way to repay it. I swear."

In an instant, the cold guest room was consumed by something feverish, moans of passion.

Emeric seized her with the desperate hunger of a man at war with his own heart. "No, Marie, you don’t owe me anything. There's nothing to repay. I love you—I do this willingly, for you..."

I couldn't bear to listen. Biting my lip to keep from crying out, I turned and fled, shame and humiliation clawing at my throat.

The Jacobs had strict rules for women. Without Emeric, I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate at night.

But after what I had just witnessed...

I could no longer face Emeric with indifference.

So, I sat on the bench in the estate’s garden, waiting for dawn to break.

That night, the bedroom Emeric’s mother had prepared for us remained dark.

But from the guest room I had just passed, the sounds of passion—breathless murmurs and fevered whispers—did not cease for even a moment.

At sunrise, Marie found me in the garden.

The moment she saw me, she yanked down the neckline of her silk nightgown, exposing a trail of deep, unmistakable kiss marks.

"Flora, looks like Emeric really finds you disgusting. He won’t even touch you." Her lips curled into a smirk. "Did you see how desperate he was last night?"

Her gaze flickered with amusement as she tilted her head.

"You know, that video wasn’t all that clear. I’d love to get a closer look. They say your chest was practically covered in bite marks. Was it thrilling?"

Before I could react, she grabbed my collar and yanked it down. A wave of humiliation crashed over me.

I shoved Marie away, spinning on my heel to leave, but before I could take more than half a step, I collided straight into Emeric’s chest.

Marie stumbled backward, landing on the ground with a thud.

Without hesitation, Emeric shoved me aside and rushed to her, concern clouding his eyes. "Marie, what happened?"

Tears shimmered in Marie’s eyes as she looked up at Emeric.

"I just wanted to check Flora’s wounds. I have a friend who specializes in scar treatment—I thought maybe I could help her. But before I could even say a word, she shoved me away…" her voice trembled.

Emeric gently brushed the dirt off Marie’s clothes, then turned to me. His tone was colder than I had ever heard before.

"Flora, why do you always have to act like this with Marie? The past is over—you can’t keep using your pain as an excuse to lash out at everyone. You act like a wounded animal, stabbing anyone who gets too close. Marie has done nothing but try to help you. What has she done to deserve this?"

Without waiting for a response, he scooped Marie into his arms.

As he passed me, I saw his glare got sharper than ever. "I’m taking Marie to the hospital. You can drive yourself home."

Without further ado, he carried her away.

Once Emeric was gone, I quietly slipped out through the back door.

As expected, Belize remained indifferent—she had never cared to begin with.

As soon as I parked the car in the driveway, a message from Marie popped up on my phone.

[Flora, you really are pathetic. I let you have a man and you still couldn’t hold on to him. Emeric has been by my side at the hospital all morning—no matter what I do, he won’t leave.]

Attached was a video.

In the clip, Emeric was rushing around, handling Marie’s medical forms, his brows furrowed with genuine worry. That kind of concern couldn’t be faked.

Suddenly, memories surfaced—those days when my illness took hold. Emeric had always used work as an excuse, leaving me in the hands of the doctors before walking away.

But now, Marie had simply taken a fall and he was treating it like a crisis.

The truth had been there all along—I had just been too blind to see it.

I knew he wouldn’t be coming home tonight. For once, that played to my advantage.

I reached out to a lawyer, had the divorce papers drafted and signed them without hesitation. I left them in Emeric’s study, along with an audio recording—one from the private suite, capturing him and his personal bodyguard.

Then, I packed up everything I owned in this house and shipped it all to San Mirren.

By the time I had finished, I picked up a call from Emeric.

"Flora, don’t be upset about this morning. My brother isn’t here and before he left, he made me promise to take good care of his wife. He’s the pillar of this family now—I have no choice but to do as he asked.

I stayed with Marie at the hospital today, but you just stay home and be good. Tomorrow, when I’m back, let’s take a short trip to Europe. A little getaway will do you good."

I couldn’t understand why a simple fall required an entire day at the hospital. But since I was leaving soon, there was no point in dwelling on it.

I gave a half-hearted response and ended the call.

By noon, another message from Marie arrived—this time, a video. It was filmed at the concert hall funded by Jacob Enterprises.

On stage, Emeric sat with his beloved cello, gazing at Marie with deep affection as he played Bach’s Air on the G String—a piece Bach had written for his wife, a symbol of eternal love.

As the final note faded, thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

And, of course, hushed whispers followed.

[Isn’t that the second son of the Jacobs? Why would he play a piece like that for his own sister-in-law…?"

"Well, his wife is just damaged goods after what happened to her. Guess he’s had enough.]

The video hadn’t even finished playing when Marie’s call came through.

Her voice slithered through the phone like a demon’s whisper.

"Flora, do you remember what happened six months ago? The men Emeric sent toyed with you for three whole days and nights. We watched every second of it, live. You screamed so pitifully...

And during those very nights, I conceived Emeric’s child. With your cries as the soundtrack, he was especially... passionate."

Marie’s laughter rang through the phone, sharp and cruel.

A violent tremor ran through me, followed by uncontrollable dry heaving.

"Flora, you’ll always be nothing but a loser to me."

With that, she hung up.

A few minutes later, my phone rang again.

This time, it was Emeric. His voice was light, almost cheerful.

"Flora, I finished up earlier than expected. Meet me at our usual restaurant. You’ve had a tough few days—let me take you out for a nice meal."

I glanced at my plane ticket, scheduled for departure in just a few hours.

A slow smile tugged at my lips.

"Sure. I have a gift for you."

After I hung up, though, Emeric couldn’t shake a nagging sense of unease.

Maybe that day, he had been too bold in showing his favoritism toward Marie.

Maybe he shouldn’t have played that particular piece in the concert hall…

Then Flora... her response on the phone just now had been too… willing. That wasn’t like her at all.

A sense of unease crept over Emeric.

Without wasting another second, Emeric stood up from his seat in the concert hall. He quickly instructed Pierre to head to the restaurant and keep an eye on Flora, then rushed there himself.

For some reason, everything seemed to go wrong on the way—unexpected delays, endless traffic.

By the time he finally pulled up in front of the restaurant, Pierre came bursting out of the entrance, his face pale with panic.

Emeric quickly rolled down the window.

Pierre, my most trusted bodyguard, was still gasping for breath as he thrust two sheets of paper and a voice recorder into the car.

"Boss—she’s gone. Your wife disappeared. And that night… she heard everything we said outside the private suite!"

Emeric’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hands.

The bold, black letters at the top burned into his vision—"DIVORCE AGREEMENT."