I sat alone in the empty living room, holding my father's urn in my arms.

My phone screen lit up again.

Jeff was calling.

The ringtone echoed for a long time before stopping, only to start again moments later.

I stared at his name as though it belonged to a stranger.

Finally, the ringing ceased.

A few seconds later, another message came through from a mutual friend—a voice recording.

I tapped it open.

The background was noisy, with Luna's voice faintly audible in the distance.

"Jeff, don't pay attention to her. You can't spoil women too much. The more you indulge them, the worse they get."

Then came Jeff's cold voice.

"Carol, don't overthink it. That five-million-dollar ad campaign was because Luna just joined the company. She's my new assistant. I need to establish her authority for her.

"You'd better take a good look at yourself. Tomorrow, I expect the house to be cleaned properly. Otherwise, don't even think about keeping that million."

The message ended.

Expressionless, I listened to the entire recording and saved it with a swipe of my finger.

Then I sent a single message: [See you at the courthouse tomorrow for the divorce.]

Early the next morning, I went to the courthouse. The lobby buzzed with people coming and going.

I sat alone on a bench in the corner, waiting for Jeff.

Nine o'clock.

Nine-thirty.

Ten.

Jeff never came.

I sent him a message.

[I'm waiting for you at the courthouse.]

It wasn't until nearly noon that his another assistant, Keith Madison, finally called.

"Ms. Reynolds, Mr. Ellison is in a meeting. He doesn't have time to entertain your tantrums. Mr. Ellison also said you should stop acting childish.

"Oh, and Mr. Ellison will be coming home for dinner tonight. He wants you to prepare his favorite barbecue ribs."

The line disconnected.

I stood in the middle of the crowded lobby, gripping my phone while the stares from strangers pierced into me like needles.

Childish?

My father was dead. And in Jeff's eyes, I was merely throwing a tantrum?

A surge of fury shot from the soles of my feet straight to my skull, burning away every shred of reason.

I immediately called back.

Keith answered, sounding impatient.

"Ms. Reynolds, I already told—"

"Put Jeff on the phone!" I screamed so loudly that the entire lobby fell silent. "Tell him if he doesn't answer, I'll jump off the Ellison Corporation building! Right outside his office window!"

Maybe it was the desperation in my voice. Or maybe the words jump off a building frightened Keith.

After a flurry of muffled noises, Jeff's voice finally came through. His anger was tightly restrained.

"Carol, have you lost your mind? You're screaming in public like a lunatic. If you don't care about your image, I still care about mine!"

But the moment I heard his voice, I suddenly calmed down. After rage reached its peak, all that remained was the stillness of cold ashes.

"Jeff, I'm not crazy. I'm only asking you one thing. Are we divorcing or not?"

He let out a cold laugh.

"Divorce? On what grounds?

"Carol, get this straight. You eat my food, wear what I buy, and even your father's medical bills are being paid by me.

"Luna is only my assistant. But she's more capable and ambitious than you. Are you jealous of her?

"You'll always be my wife, as long as you behave. Stop using divorce to threaten me. That trick doesn't work on me."

His tone was certain, completely convinced that I could never leave him.

Too bad. The Carol he knew was already dead.

I reached into my pocket and touched the wrinkled bankbook inside.

It was what my father had left for me.

There was only twenty thousand dollars in it—the savings he had scraped together by living frugally for years.

He had once told me, "Sweetheart, if one day, the Ellison family treats you badly, use this money to buy a ticket home."

However, I couldn't go home anymore though I was being bullied. Because I didn't have a home.

Jeff's voice came through the phone again.

"As long as you come home now, apologize to Luna, and admit you were talking nonsense before, I'll give you another million."

He paused briefly before adding casually, "Consider it… nutritional expenses for your dad."

I spoke clearly into the receiver, enunciating every word.

"Jeff, that's called funeral expenses. And we still haven't settled the score for you reversing the ransom payment and getting my father killed."

"What nonsense are you talking about?!" His voice suddenly rose. "What do you mean, reversing the ransom? I only—"

Before he could finish, I cut him off.

"You only wanted to teach me a lesson? Or were you freeing up money to take pictures with your mistress? Jeff, you disgust me."

With a sharp beep, I hung up. This time, I permanently blocked his number.

At last, the world fell silent.

I didn't return to that cold, empty mansion. Instead, I took my father's ashes and went to the old house on the outskirts of the city.

It was the only thing my father had left behind—a shabby little apartment less than five hundred square feet.

But for the first time in days, I felt safe.

I placed my father's urn on top of an old cabinet. Beside it sat the only photograph we had together.

In the picture, my father smiled honestly and warmly while I sat on his shoulders holding a lollipop.

Back then, we had been poor. But we had been happy.

"Dad, from now on, it'll just be the two of us."

I spoke softly as tears splashed onto the dusty floorboards.

After cleaning the house, I called Benson.

"Draft the divorce agreement for me. I'm filing for divorce."

The moment I hung up, violent pounding suddenly erupted from outside the door.

"Carol! Open up!"

It was Jeff.

He had actually found this place.

"I know you're in there! Why are you hiding? You had the guts to hang up on me, but now you don't dare face me? Open the door! Or I'll have someone tear this stupid door down!"

"Mr. Ellison, trespassing is illegal."

My voice was icy.

Jeff seemed caught off guard by my attitude.

"Carol, don't push your luck. I came here to give you a chance. As long as you come back with me now, we can forget everything that happened before. I'll arrange the best nursing home for your father, hire the best caretakers—"

"Jeff."

I interrupted him, my voice sharp as frozen steel.

"Are you incapable of understanding human language? My father is dead. You got him killed. While you were busy taking pictures with that assistant of yours, the kidnappers beat him to death."

Dead silence fell outside the door.

After a long while, Jeff finally spoke again. His voice carried the faintest tremor—along with even greater disbelief.

"You… you're making up stories again? You'd even tell a lie like this just to gain sympathy? Carol, you really disappoint me."

Leaning against the door, I closed my eyes.

Disappoint him? Who exactly had disappointed whom?

"Get lost."

"Carol!"

"GET LOST!!!"

I slammed my foot hard against the door, the impact making Jeff stumble back with a startled curse.

"Take your hypocrisy and get out of my sight! If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the cops!"

Silence returned outside.

After a long moment, the sound of leather shoes echoed faintly through the hallway, growing farther and farther away.

Less than ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number.

It was Jeff.

[Tomorrow night is the Ellison Corporation anniversary gala. You will attend as my wife. After it's over, I'll agree to the divorce.]

I stared at the text message for a full ten minutes.

Then I replied with only two words: [I'll go.]

After putting down my phone, I looked at my father's urn and gently traced it with my fingers.

"Dad, please wait a little longer. I'm going to get justice for you."

The next evening, an Ellison family car stopped downstairs. The driver, Jamie, had come to pick me up.

"Ms. Reynolds, get in. Mr. Ellison doesn't like waiting."

He didn't even bother getting out of the car. He simply shouted through the window.

I opened the door and sat in the back seat.

The car reeked of perfume. It was Luna's usual brand.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, Jeff was already waiting in the lounge.

The moment he saw the cheap dress I was wearing, he frowned deeply, disgust written all over his face.

"You're wearing that?"

He tossed a garment bag toward me.

"Change into this. Don't embarrass me."

Inside was a fitted white evening gown, elegant and expensive, but not my size.

I glanced at the label. It was a designer brand Luna often wore, even down to the exact size.

"I'm not changing."

I tossed the dress back onto the couch.

"I'm here for a divorce, not a fashion show."

He sighed impatiently.

"If you won't change, then fine. Just remember one thing—don't say anything stupid at the banquet."

The ballroom glittered with lights and luxury, but all around me were strange, mocking glances.

"Isn't that Mr. Ellison's wife? Why does she look more like an assistant?"

"Shh, didn't you hear? The one Mr. Ellison favors now is his assistant, Luna."

"Seriously? And Carol still puts up with this? That's pathetic."

Expressionless, I stood alone in the corner with a wineglass in hand.

But Luna clearly had no intention of leaving me alone. Holding her own glass, she walked over with several rich heirs trailing behind her.

"Carol, drinking alone?"

Swirling the wine in her glass, she smiled mockingly.

"I heard your dad's sick. Why aren't you at the hospital taking care of him?"

Laughter erupted around us.

My grip tightened around the stem of my glass until my knuckles turned white. I stared at Luna without blinking.

"Get lost."

The smile on her face stiffened for a second before turning vicious. She leaned close, lowering her voice so only the two of us could hear.

"Carol, you still don't know, do you? That day, I was the one who used Jeff's phone to reverse the ransom payment."

She clicked her tongue dramatically.

"Honestly, I didn't expect the kidnappers to be so sensitive. Who knew they'd actually kill him?

"Tsk, tsk. I heard your dad died horribly. Every bone in his body was shattered…

"Tell me—do you think he was screaming your name before he died?"

The final thread in my mind snapped. Every ounce of restraint, every shred of reason vanished in an instant.

I raised my hand and slapped her across the face with all my strength.

Luna spun sideways from the force. Her wineglass flew out of her hand, and red wine splashed across her dress.

The music stopped.

Everyone turned to look.

Clutching her cheek, Luna stared at me in disbelief. Then her eyes reddened instantly, tears spilling down her face.

"Carol… why did you hit me? I was only asking about your dad's condition… how could you…"

Jeff rushed over immediately. He shoved me aside and pulled Luna behind him protectively, his expression so vicious it looked like he wanted to devour me alive.

"Carol! Have you lost your mind?! Apologize to Luna right now!"

The shove sent me stumbling backward into a table. Bottles crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere.

But I felt no pain.

"Apologize?"

I laughed harshly.

"Jeff, you want me to apologize to a murderer? Keep dreaming!"

I pointed at Luna, my voice hoarse yet sharp enough to cut through the entire ballroom.

"It was her! She used your phone to reverse the money that was supposed to save my father's life! She was the one who got my father beaten to death!

"And you, Jeff! What were you doing at the time? You were taking pictures with this murderer! You shameless pair of adulterers should both pay for my father's life!!!"

My scream exploded through the ballroom like a bomb.

Jeff's face instantly turned deathly pale. He stared at me, and for the very first time, panic appeared in his eyes.

"Carol! Shut up!"

He lunged toward me, trying to cover my mouth, but I shoved him away violently.

"What? Feeling guilty now?"

I pulled out my phone and raised it high above my head.

"You want proof? I have it! These are the bank transfer records! These are the reversal records!

"This is the official death certificate from the police! And this one—!"

I opened the photo that the entire city had already seen, turned the screen brightness to maximum, and shoved it right in front of Jeff's face.

"Jeff, do those five-million-dollar photos look good? They were bought with my father's life!"