My husband is known as a ruthless CEO, but somehow, he is tender and warm with me.

I'm passionate about art restoration, especially antique paintings, so he transforms his private collection room into a professional-grade studio just for me. He even brings in top experts to mentor me.

Once, I spent three sleepless nights restoring a rare 12th-century painting. He ends up buying the entire museum that the painting belongs to, just so I can study it without restrictions.

To marry me, he goes head-to-head with his powerful family, even stages a hunger strike, until they finally give in.

At our engagement party, he gets down on one knee in front of everyone and says, "Ash, you deserve nothing but the best in this world."

The ring he designs himself has an engraving on the inside that says, "Art brought us together, love holds us forever."

Everyone says Vincent Hawthorn loves me like a maniac, and I believe it—until I restore one of his late mother's paintings…

I spent a year restoring my late mother-in-law's painting, even using a drop of my blood in the ink for symbolic meaning. I brought it home, excited to surprise my husband, Vincent Hawthorn.

Before I could show it to him, his adopted sister, Camellia Waltz, tore the painting to shreds and dragged me into a locked room like I was a suspect. I was tied up for interrogation.

When Vincent heard the news and came over, Camelia was full of tears, accusing, "Over here, Vince! It was this maid who tore apart Mom's painting!"

With my mouth gagged and a hood over my head, I had no way to speak or defend myself. All I could do was struggle in vain.

Amid the wreckage on the floor, I watched as Vincent pulled Camellia into his arms and gently kissed the tears on her face.

"Oh, don't cry, Cami. It breaks me to see you like this. As much as the painting's important, you're more important to me."

Seeing the frown on his face, Camellia added, "But Ashley spent so many hours and effort on restoring that painting. She must be so sad."

At her words, Vincent picked up a steel whip and flogged me with it. "I love my wife more than anything in this world, so how dare you try to upset her?"

The whip thrashed against my skin, tearing it into an open wound. He didn't hold back at all, striking with such brutal force that I could hear his teeth grinding.

"My wife put her heart and soul into that painting, and you went and tore it to shreds just like that? You love destruction, don't you? Well, I'll show you what destruction is."

Blood drenched my clothes, and I couldn't stop shaking from the pain. Little did Vincent know that the woman he spoke so highly and dearly about was about to be tortured to death in his own hands.

No amount of whips was enough to quench his fury. He yanked my hand over and slapped it a few times. "So, these are the hands that destroyed my wife's hard work… Time to say goodbye to them."

A chill crept through my chest.

For 20 years, Vincent had cherished these hands of mine, holding them with such care. Now, it was like he didn't even recognize them.

I remembered when I was still restoring his mother's painting, and the skin on my fingertips peeled from overwork. He gently massaged them in hand cream, murmuring, "It breaks my heart to see your hands hurt."

When my knuckles ached from long hours of painting, he would take my hands in his, rubbing them over and over, just so he could warm the pain away with his body heat.

He once held my hand and walked me from childhood to adulthood, from school halls to the wedding aisle. Now, all of it felt like a cruel joke.

Camellia stepped forward, casting a venomous glance my way. "We can turn these hands into an art specimen and sell them on the black market. They'll easily go up to five million dollars."

Vincent held her close, laughing without a hint of restraint. "Perfect. I'll use that money to buy you all the jewelry you want."

His assistant, Lucas Porter, chimed in with a smile. "You sure dote on Cami a lot, Mr. Hawthorn. If Mrs. Hawthorn found out, she'd be jealous."

Hearing that, Vincent hurled the steel whip across the window's tempered glass, shattering it within a second. "If words get to Ash, you'll end up just like that window."

He withdrew his gaze and added, "Cami has been with me for so many years without a proper title or status. It's the least I can do for her."

Was Camellia, his so-called sister, actually his mistress? So, they had been secretly involved all along, and I had been completely in the dark.

Through the narrow slit in the hood, I saw Vincent gently kiss her with all the tenderness in his being. Meanwhile, I was tied to a filthy execution rack like a prisoner, discarded and humiliated.

"Do it."

No sooner had he given his cold order than a few of his men stepped forward. They roughly unbound me and dragged me down from the execution rack like I was nothing.

As we passed by Vincent, I reached out and grabbed the hem of his trouser leg, revealing the old scar on my palm. It was from college, where I shielded him from a splash of chemical solvent in the lab.

He had held me in his arms, crying the entire night. He said that scar was the mark of our love and that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me.

Vincent stared at it for a moment. Then, without a word, he picked up a searing-hot branding iron and pressed it down on that same scar.

"This is a scar Ash got because of me. How dare you, a filthy maid, replicate the symbol of our love? Were you trying to get into our bed? Gosh—you did all that just to replace her? You're disgusting!"

The smell of burnt flesh, mixed with the overwhelming searing pain, almost knocked me out.

Camellia led the applause, her voice dripping with envy. "Ashley really does love you, doesn't she? Looks like I've got plenty to learn!"

Vincent pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. "You're gonna learn, alright."

A bitter smile slipped from my lips. After all these years, he had spoiled me like no one else could.

Vincent did all the housework, gave up his love for racing, and did every romantic thing imaginable just for me. I never doubted his love.

Now, watching him passionately kiss Camellia made my heart crumble into pieces. Did he truly love me?

I trembled with pain, reaching out to him, but he was too engulfed in his steamy kiss with her.

The executioners were prepping their blades. I struggled with all my might, trying to break free from my bonds, but it was no use.

When Vincent left, Camellia removed my hood and blew a cloud of smoke into my face. "Aw, he didn't recognize you. I mean, I get it. You're usually so elegant and pristine, but now, you're filthy and covered in blood.

"You know what? I do want him to destroy you with his own hands. That way, I'll take over and become the most significant woman in his life.

"I bet you didn't know that he was with me at the riding club whenever he told you he was too busy to go to art galleries with you.

"When your grandma was in a dire situation, he told you he couldn't come back to the country. Well, actually, he was looking for my missing cat with me for three whole days.

"Every second he was away when you needed him the most, he was with me."

With every word Camellia spoke, my heart grew colder until it was completely consumed by pain. She watched my expression with satisfaction, clearly enjoying the sight of me falling into despair.

In the distance, I heard Vincent's footsteps approaching. Camellia quickly pulled the hood back over my head. They pinned me down on a cold metal table, where sharp blades lay neatly beside me.

Lucas glanced at Vincent, hesitation in his voice. "Mr. Hawthorn, her fingers have calluses… They look like Mrs. Hawthorn's…"

"That's impossible. She's just texted me back. There's no way this is her."

Tears trickled down my face. Even Lucas recognized my hands, yet Vincent didn't.

He stepped forward and suddenly stomped on my palm. The crushing pain nearly made me black out.

"Pathetic," he sneered coldly. "You thought you could climb your way up by copying every detail of her?"

Without a flicker of emotion, he pressed his lit cigarette into the burn on my wrist and told the executioner, "Carry on."

I trembled, desperately trying to pull away my hands—to protect the hands I used to paint—but it was futile.

Right then, Vincent's phone rang. The moment he answered, his expression softened with a glow.

"Ash's solo exhibition has been confirmed? That's amazing. Book the best gallery in the city, and go all out with the marketing. I want my wife to have the most spectacular exhibition in the world!"

His face was full of contentment and affection, but it felt like a knife lodged straight through my heart. I was right before him, his pride and hope, yet he was about to destroy my everything.

Jealousy flashed in Camellia's eyes as she motioned for the executioner to hurry up. The scalpel sliced across my wrist, and I couldn't hold back a bloodcurdling scream.

I thrashed violently, desperate to break free. Vincent turned around and cast his cold gaze toward me. "Why does she sound like… Ash?"

A spark of hope flared. Maybe—just maybe—he had finally recognized me.

However, Camellia quickly clung to his arm, her face painted with dramatic fear. "She even copied Ashley's voice? That's insane! How twisted can someone be?"

The doubt in Vincent's eyes was quickly replaced with disgust. He ordered his men to cover my mouth, forbidding me from making another sound.

"You'll never be here, no matter how much you try to imitate her."

When I kept struggling, he scoffed and instructed his men coldly, "Don't hold back. She needs to be taught a lesson."

I didn't know how much pain I endured after that. My consciousness began to blur.

…

Suddenly, a shrill ringtone cut through the room. Vincent answered it, and after a few words, his brow furrowed with traces of worry.

"Ash hasn't been home? You can't reach her? What are you guys doing? Go out and find her! Nobody gets to keep their job if I don't see her soon!"

He hung up the phone, agitated. When he noticed his men setting up high-powered floodlights, an idea struck him.

"Turn the power to the max!" he ordered. "Ash's afraid of the dark. I want the entire estate lit up to its every corner!"

He turned, pacing around. "She's probably upset because I haven't been by her side. That's it—she's just mad at me and hiding somewhere to teach me a lesson!"

A cruel smile tugged at the corner of Camellia's lips as she leaned in and whispered something into Vincent's ear. Just like that, he turned away and covered his eyes.

The next second, I was dragged into the blinding beam of the spotlight. Camellia ripped off my hood, let out a cheer, and slammed the switch.

A blast of intense light pierced straight into my eyes. Sharp, searing pain exploded from deep within my skull, and blood-tinged tears streamed down my face.

Only then did she finally switch the light off, satisfied, and shove the hood back over my head. "The light is super powerful! Now, when Ashley paints in the courtyard at night, she won't have any trouble seeing."

Vincent smiled and playfully tapped her nose. "You're always so thoughtful. Ash's going to love it."

For me, however, light had been ripped from my world. I collapsed to the ground in agony, vomiting uncontrollably, my body wrecked and broken.

With a look of disgust, he gave me a kick and shielded Camellia's eyes with his hand. "Don't look. It's disgusting."

I had no more tears to cry. My heart felt like it was being torn apart.

This was the man who used to run across the entire city to find inspiration for me whenever I felt creatively blocked. Now, he destroyed my eyes and hands that I had used to create my art.

"I'll give your family five million dollars. Think of it as buying your life." Vincent squatted before me, mischief dancing in his eyes as he added, "If you serve Cami well enough, I might consider not killing you."

I struggled to lift what was left of my mangled arm, trying to remove the hood for him to see and save me, but…

He sneered. "I can't believe you're still trying to seduce me at this point."

His gaze darkened, and he slammed his foot down on my stomach, grinding it in without mercy. I curled up in agony, trying to shield myself, but there was nowhere to hide from his torment.

Vincent turned around and shouted at Lucas, "Where the hell is Ash? Listen up, everyone! If she's not found soon, you'll share the same fate as this thing!"

With reddened eyes, Camellia softly clung to him and coaxed, "Don't worry, Vince. I'm sure Ashley is safe.

"Let's… Let's do something fun to take your mind off it, okay?"

She winked cheekily. "I read about an old medieval punishment once—gruesome stuff. It's brutal, but… maybe we could try a little version of it, just for fun?

"Next time someone dares to upset Ashley, they'll know exactly what's coming."

A flicker of dark amusement lit up in Vincent's eyes. With just a glance, a few of his bodyguards stepped forward, grinning viciously. They began tracing blades across my skin, mocking and slow…

Every hair on my body stood on end. I fought the rising panic and screamed through the gag with everything I had. However, the dirty rag stuffed in my mouth muffled my screams into helpless sobs.

The originally apathetic Vincent frowned and turned around. "That's enough, everyone. I'll keep her alive—show some decency for Ash's sake."

The moment he uttered my name, his eyes softened with a tenderness that could melt hearts.

Camellia pouted and cooed, "It was just a painting, no? I could learn to paint one for you someday."

Before she could say more, Vincent delivered a sharp slap across her face. His gentle expression had vanished. Now, cold and ruthless, he grabbed her chin with iron strength.

"You've only been around for years, and you really thought you could ever compare to Ash? There's only room in my heart for one wife, and it's her!"

Her eyes welled with tears. When she looked at me, her gaze had visibly twisted into something spiteful and chilling. However, she quickly adjusted her expression.

She clung to his arm, whining playfully, "Okay, okay, I messed up… I just care about you so much. Don't hold it against me, please?"

Then, she said something that chilled my heart. "Since you slapped me, you've got to make it up to me! If you use the maid as your canvas and carve out the painting for me, I'll forgive you for hitting me."

Vincent narrowed his eyes. It took him a beat before a chuckle slipped from his lips.

He rummaged through the toolbox and pulled out a carving knife, dragging the tip across the wall with a high-pitched screech that made my skin crawl.

Camellia actually wanted him to carve that destroyed painting into my back.

I reached out, desperately trying to remove the hood, but there wasn't an ounce of strength left in me.

He thought I wanted to fight back, so he slapped me harshly again, propelling me to the side. "You should be grateful that a filthy creature like you gets to have Ash's painting carved on your back…

"Don't worry—I'll still give your family the five million dollars as promised. But… I don't suppose they'll care about your life after receiving that kind of money, huh?"

A cold, twisted smile hung on his lips. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the blade straight into my back.

Flashes of my sweetest memories with Vincent sped through my mind. His smile, his kindness; every painting he ever made for me… All of it now felt like a flying arrow reversed back at me.

My eyelids grew unbearably heavy. My hand slipped from the air and fell limply at my side.

At that moment, Lucas barged in with a ghastly pale face. "Mr. Hawthorn, we've found her! Her location shows that she's always been here…"