Robin let out an exaggerated laugh. “Wow! You’re out of prison! And working as a hostess? What a coincidence.”

He stepped closer, his tone dripping with mockery. “You must be desperate for money. Tell you what—crawl over here, entertain us, and we’ll forget about the wine.”

Margarita felt Wade’s cold gaze cut through her like a blade, pressing her down, suffocating her.

She had no escape. No dignity left to protect.

Biting her lip, she forced herself onto her knees. The glass shards dug into her skin as she crawled forward, each movement a fresh wound, each breath a silent humiliation.

The air was sharp against her exposed back, making her shiver.

The room held its breath. Then—

A splash.

The deep red liquid spilled over her bare skin, trickling down her spine in slow, sticky rivulets.

Margarita flinched, her shoulders curling inward on instinct.

The silence was deafening. No one knew what Wade was thinking. They exchanged uncertain glances, and, one by one, they found excuses to leave.

Wade smiled at Casey, his voice deceptively soft. “Be good. Wait outside with them.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Before stepping out, Casey cast a fleeting glance at Margarita. Her expression was unreadable.

The door clicked shut.

Without warning, Wade’s hand shot out, grabbing Margarita’s throat and shoving her onto the sofa.

"Margarita," he murmured, eyes dark and seething. "The moment you got out of prison, you became a hostess. What, dignity doesn’t matter to you anymore?"

She forced out a bitter laugh. “After all, I killed your sister. My family went bankrupt. I lost everything. I was locked away for six years… I have to survive somehow, don’t I?”

The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it down, twisting her pain into mockery.

Wade’s fingers trailed down her damp back, slow, deliberate. Hatred burned in his gaze.

His grip on her wrist tightened, voice low and dangerous.

“No one in this nightclub has more money than me. If you’re so eager to sell yourself, then sell to me.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her skin. “Buy something sexy for Casey and me tonight. Pick well, and I’ll pay you 1,500 dollars. That should be enough for someone like you, right?”

Margarita’s chest clenched, the pain suffocating.

This was revenge. He wanted to break her, humiliate her.

And he was succeeding.

—

That night, she watched as Casey slipped into the dress she had bought.

She stood there, silent, as Wade pulled Casey into a kiss, his hands roaming her body.

Margarita should have looked away.

But she didn’t.

Her empty gaze followed every movement, every touch. She knew his habits too well. She could predict where his lips would land before he even moved.

The throat. The collarbone. The waist. The abdomen. Even the soft curve of the calf.

Every kiss, every caress—things that once belonged to her—were now given to another woman.

The edges of her vision blurred, dark spots creeping in. The only sounds left were Casey’s breathy moans and Wade’s ragged sighs.

After it was over, Wade disappeared into the bathroom.

Casey took Margarita’s hand, her fingers light, almost affectionate. “After you disappeared, I stayed by Wade’s side.”

Margarita said nothing.

Casey lowered her voice, watching her carefully. “I never planned to love him, but I did. If you don’t want me to be with him—”

“I don’t mind.”

Her voice was eerily calm. “You can have him.”

Bang—

The bathroom door slammed open.

Wade stepped out, his damp hair dripping onto his bare shoulders, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

His furious gaze locked onto Margarita. Then, in a softer voice, he turned to Casey.

“I don’t need a criminal’s permission to be with you.” His tone was cold, mocking. “I keep her around so no one thinks I, Wade, am a pathetic man who lost everything after a single blow.”

After this incident, Wade did not let Margarita go.

As if granting her his "forgiveness," he assigned her a lowly assistant position—one designed to humiliate rather than employ.

During work hours, Margarita was forced to kneel on the office floor, scrubbing tiles while colleagues and visitors stepped around her, their amused or pitiful glances stripping away her last shreds of dignity.

At night, when Wade and Casey were together, Margarita had to anticipate their every need—keeping condoms and sex toys at the ready, so their pleasure would never be interrupted.

When they went shopping, she became nothing more than a living mannequin, slipping in and out of clothes for Casey’s amusement while Wade watched indifferently.

Every moment was a carefully orchestrated punishment. Margarita was forced to witness how tenderly Wade spoiled Casey, how cruelly he ensured she felt his hatred.

Wade tossed a designer bag to her—one that Casey had discarded. His tone carried the weight of disdainful charity.

"It's a reward for you."

Margarita lunged forward, catching the bag before it hit the ground, clutching it tightly.

If she sold it, she could make good money. And right now, money was all she needed.

She longed for an escape. The quiet waves of Maldives called to her—the promise of being lost in an endless ocean, where no one could reach her.

Let the sea take her. Let it wash away the remnants of Margarita.

On the day of Wade and Casey's engagement party, Margarita was stationed at the entrance—her task humiliatingly simple. She had to kneel and polish the shoes of every arriving guest, ensuring that the first thing they saw upon entering was her disgrace.

Meanwhile, Casey stood at the center of it all, resplendent. She wore the very wedding dress Wade had once commissioned for Margarita—now repurposed as an engagement gown. With every delicate thread, it mocked Margarita’s past.

She was radiant, dazzling like a princess under the golden chandeliers.

Wade stood beside her, his expression softened by adoration. Like a king before his court, he kissed the back of Casey's hand, sealing their union.

Margarita kept her head down, but her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to the past.

She and Wade had once dreamed of their wedding, nestled together in whispered promises.

She had told him she wanted a sea of flowers, every bloom adorned with jewels.

Wade had smiled and vowed to have the finest designer craft jewelry just for her, to make her the most beautiful bride, to give her a wedding so grand the world would remember.

And now, every single promise he had made was being fulfilled—just not for her.

What about marriage?

How magnificent a wedding would he give Casey?

"What are you daydreaming about? Polish my shoes!"

A man sneered, raising his chin as he pressed his leather shoe against Margarita’s face, smearing dirt across her cheek.

"Didn’t you fail to do your job and let Wade’s sister die? This is just karma, isn’t it? If you ask me, Wade is too kind for even letting you live—let alone giving you a job."

The weight of his shoe crushed against her skin, but Margarita didn’t resist. She simply lowered her head, wordlessly continuing to polish.

"I heard your parents are dead. No family, no future. A criminal record, no real job. What’s the point of even living?"

He twisted his shoe against her face, as if grinding her further into the filth, then strutted away on tiptoe.

Margarita smiled bitterly.

Wasn’t she going to die soon anyway?

Her right arm had gone numb again. Without thinking, she switched the rag to her left hand and kept working.

---

That night, Margarita helped Casey change clothes.

As she adjusted the gown, Casey suddenly spoke. "Sis, do you remember? I used to be the one helping you—just like this. I was your little flower girl, watching you put on that expensive white wedding dress."

Margarita’s fingers stilled for a brief second.

"Back then, I kept wondering—why were you born with everything while I could only watch from the sidelines?"

Her voice was soft, almost wistful, but an unmistakable bitterness seeped through.

"Why would a man as perfect as Wade love someone as dull as you? Why wasn’t it me? I’m younger. I’m prettier. I should have been the one he wanted."

Margarita said nothing. She only continued fastening Casey's gown, adjusting the fabric in silent surrender.

"You know, when you disappeared, Wade was devastated." Casey’s tone grew quieter, her dissatisfaction bubbling beneath the surface. "I took care of him. I saw him fall apart. I never thought he could cry like that—for you."

She let out a soft, humorless laugh.

"So I wondered... What if I could take your place? What if I could carve my way into his heart?"

Margarita felt her breath hitch.

"And I almost did."

Casey’s voice turned sharp, trembling with barely concealed rage. "I was so close. Then you come back. You ruined everything! Why did you come back after prison? Why couldn’t you just disappear?!"

Margarita had always seen Casey as a younger sister. She never imagined that all this time, beneath the affection and smiles, she had been harboring such deep resentment.

But what did it matter now?

She was already dying.

Casey suddenly raised her wrist and yanked at her charm bracelet, snapping the string. The beads scattered across the floor.

Then— "PAH!"

A sharp slap rang through the room.

Margarita barely had time to react before Casey staggered back, clutching her cheek. A vivid red palm print bloomed across her skin.

Her eyes welled with tears, her voice trembling. "Sis… why did you hit me?"

Margarita froze.

She hadn't even moved.

Before she could utter a single word, the door suddenly burst open.

"Margarita!"

Wade’s voice was cold as ice. Without hesitation, he strode forward and struck her across the face.

The slap sent Margarita’s head snapping to the side. A sharp sting spread across her cheek, her ears ringing from the impact.

"Wade, what should I do?" Casey knelt down, gathering the scattered charm bracelet with trembling hands, as if she didn’t care about the red imprint on her own face. Her voice quivered, soft and pitiful. "The beads you gave me… the ones blessed after climbing the mountain shrine’s winding path… my sister broke them."

Wade pulled her into his arms, his gaze burning into Margarita like a blade. "So this is your true face? You finally dropped the act." His voice was dangerously low. "Why did you hit Casey? Why did you destroy something so precious to me?"

His fury filled the room, but his eyes—beneath the storm—seemed to be waiting. Waiting for Margarita to say something. To deny it. To give him a reason.

Because she couldn’t bear it?

Because she was jealous?

Because deep down, she still cared?

But Margarita only let out a low laugh and whispered, "How could I dare offend you, Boss? That charm bracelet was valuable… if I really wanted to do something with it, I would’ve stolen it and sold it for money."

The brief flicker of light in Wade’s eyes extinguished.

His jaw tightened. In a slow, deliberate motion, he grabbed Margarita by the collar and enunciated every word:

"That charm bracelet meant everything to me and Casey. Go and beg for another one. It must be blessed again—for our wedding."

His fingers tightened before he finally released her. "You’ll kneel your way up the mountain. Step by step. Do you understand?"

Margarita had no right to refuse.

While Wade and Casey enjoyed the warmth of a resort hotel, sipping tea by the fireplace, Margarita was thrown at the foot of Foshan Mountain.

She wore only a thin coat against the biting cold. Snow blanketed the stone steps, but she did not hesitate.

She knelt.

Pressed her forehead to the icy ground.

Whispered, "May Wade find happiness in this life. May Christine be reborn into a good family and never suffer again."

Her voice was soft, swallowed by the howling wind. But her devotion remained unwavering.

With each step she climbed on her knees, bruises bloomed beneath the fabric of her clothes. Her forehead grew swollen from the repeated kneel. She could no longer tell if her limbs were numb from the cold—or from the ALS stealing her strength.

By the time she reached the peak, trembling, she handed the newly blessed beads to Wade.

She braced herself for his ridicule. For his sneer.

But instead, he silently removed his coat and tossed it over her head.

"I'm staying here tonight," he said coldly. "You keep watch."

And just like that, he turned away.

—

That night, the ground trembled.

The entire mountain quaked violently. Cries of panic filled the air as the guesthouse walls groaned and crumbled.

Margarita barely had time to react before Casey came running, tears streaking down her face.

"Wade—Wade is still inside!" She clutched Margarita’s hand in desperation. "He still has a fever—he hasn’t come out!"

Margarita’s breath hitched.

No wonder he had been quiet. Wade never took medicine—not since his sister, Christine, died from an allergic reaction to cold pills. He would rather endure it.

Her vision blurred with urgency. Ignoring the people fleeing for safety, she turned and ran.

Straight into the collapsing ruins.

At that moment, her legs suddenly gave out.

Margarita crashed to the ground, her knees slamming against the icy stone. A sharp, searing pain shot through her body, nearly knocking her unconscious.

She gasped, trembling. But when she tried to move—nothing.

Her legs refused to respond.

“No... not now…”

Tears welled up as she punched her unfeeling legs over and over, as if sheer force could bring them back to life. Desperation clawed at her throat, but she gritted her teeth and dragged herself forward.

One inch at a time.

By the time she reached Wade’s room, her vision swam with exhaustion. But before she could even catch her breath, the bookcase beside her collapsed—

Crack!

The heavy wood crashed against her waist, knocking the air from her lungs. A choked cry escaped her lips, but she had no time to process the pain.

Wade.

She forced herself up and stumbled toward him. His body burned with fever, unconscious on the bed.

No hesitation.

Margarita hauled him up with trembling arms, dragging him into the bathroom. She heaved him into the bathtub, her strength failing, her own body screaming in agony. But even then, doubt gnawed at her.

This wasn’t safe enough.

So she shielded him with her own body. If the house collapsed—if death came—she would be the first to take the hit.

Wade stirred in his fevered haze, his lips parting slightly as he murmured—

“…Margarita…”

Her heart clenched.

She buried her face against his burning forehead, her voice shaking. "Wade... you must live…"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, falling onto his face.

Then—silence.

The tremors finally ceased.

Rescue workers climbed up a ladder to the window, shouting for survivors. Margarita didn’t waste a second.

"Take him first!" she cried, pushing Wade toward them.

They carried him out to safety, Casey following closely behind. But before leaving, she hesitated, turning to Margarita with a complicated expression.

"Aren't you going to tell him that you saved him?"

Margarita exhaled shakily. Her body ached, every nerve screaming for relief, but she forced herself to look away.

"I didn’t do anything," she murmured.

No one needed to know.

—

Wade and Casey made it home safely.

Margarita, on the other hand, remained behind.

Through the open doorway, she watched as Wade reached for Casey's hand, placing the charm bracelet gently onto her wrist. His touch lingered, his gaze soft.

"Casey," he whispered, brushing a tender kiss against her cheek. "Thank you for staying with me."

Margarita stood there, frozen.

Something inside her twisted, but she forced herself to move. The house was still a mess. She needed to clean up.

But the moment she bent down, pain shot up her spine like a dagger. Her vision blurred, and she collapsed onto the sofa, struggling to breathe.

Then—

A hand yanked up her shirt.

A sharp gasp tore from her lips as pain flared across her waist. The wound had been left untreated for too long—her clothes had fused to the dried blood, ripping away at her skin.

Margarita barely had time to react before she saw it.

The look in Wade’s eyes.

Red. Burning.

Rage.

His voice was low, controlled—but barely.

"What happened to your waist?"