Gretchen hesitated but eventually lifted her leg and pulled open the car’s passenger-side door.

Bernard caught up in a few strides, his brow furrowed tight.

“Marjorie gets carsick easily. She has to sit up front. You, take the backseat.”

The sports car sped off, the three of them lost in their own thoughts.

Gretchen, already struggling with her injured arms and legs, found it hard enough to move. Now squeezed into the backseat alongside piles of gift boxes, she felt even more uncomfortable.

On the other hand, in the passenger seat, Marjorie kept her mouth busy.

“Hey, Gretchen, this isn’t on your way, is it? Are you going to the hospital too?”

Before Gretchen could answer, Bernard let out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, I actually also don’t think she needs to go. She’s tough enough—what’s a little bump? But I figured we could use an extra hand to carry stuff.”

Gretchen listened to their banter, but she simply turned her head to look out the window. The scenery outside blurred past, disappearing into the distance.

And then, she closed her eyes.

Her years of love and dependence on Bernard were just like the scenery outside. Fading away, frame by frame, swallowed up in the crowd. Gone forever.

“Bernie, I feel nauseous,” Marjorie suddenly whined in a sweet, delicate voice.

Bernard slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the side of the road in a panic.

“What’s wrong? You’re sitting in the front—how are you still feeling sick?”

In the rearview mirror, Gretchen’s eyes briefly met Marjorie’s.

In her gaze, there was arrogance—and something else, something coy and calculated.

“Bernie,” Marjorie said weakly, “I’ve just been feeling so weak lately. No energy, always tired, and nauseous all the time.”

Gretchen knew enough about basic health to realize something was off if what Marjorie was saying was true.

“Gretchen, go grab Marjorie a bottle of water. Maybe it’ll help,” Bernard instructed, glancing over his shoulder.

Gretchen froze for a second, instinctively shifting her injured leg.

Thinking she was refusing, Bernard sneered and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I knew it. You’ve never had any sympathy. Forget it, I’ll go. And let me remind you, don’t go chatting her ear off while I’m gone. She needs to rest.”

Gretchen just felt drained. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.

“Come on, I know you’re not really asleep,” Marjorie’s voice floated back, dripping with arrogance.

“Look at this.” She raised her wrist, flashing a smile. “Bernie gave me this.”

Gretchen had seen that string of translucent emerald beads on the wrist of Bernard’s mother Dolores countless times growing up.

It was said to be a rare treasure passed down through generations of royalty—priceless.

Marjorie admired the bracelet on her wrist, twirling it slowly, then spoke casually as if trying to “console” Gretchen.

“Bernie told me Uncle Reinhold and Auntie Dolores like you a lot. But, you know, Bernard has always loved his freedom. He can’t stand arranged marriages—or women who have ulterior motives.”

“So when he gave me this bracelet, he said someone as simple and kind as me is exactly the kind of woman he really wants.”

“Do you know what Bernard calls you, Gretchen? A little bootlicker.”

“But have you ever heard this? Love doesn’t come from begging. Real love… It's about attraction.”

Marjorie finished with a sly, seductive smile.

Gretchen sat there in silence, listening as her heart felt like it was being gripped and crushed. Saying she wasn’t hurt would’ve been the biggest lie.

‘The Golbersteins' wedding heirloom now clasped on someone else’s wrist—with Bernard’s own hands!’

Marjorie’s voice cut through her thoughts, low but piercing.

“Gretchen, my advice? Know when to back off.”

At those last two words, Gretchen couldn’t hold back any longer and turned to respond…

“So, what do you think it means to know your place?”

Marjorie’s lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It means not being greedy. You can’t have both pride and benefits, you know? If you push too hard, Bernard will just get tired. And I can’t let that happen.”

Bernard opened the driver’s side door, holding a bag of drinks.

“I bought vitamin water, energy drinks, mineral water, milk, and yogurt. What do you feel like drinking? Should I buy you something warm?”

Marjorie rummaged through the bottles one by one.

“Bernie, I’m feeling better now. I don’t want any of these. I’m not thirsty.”

In the backseat, Gretchen sat quietly, her lips cracked and pale, but Bernard didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he tied the bag shut and stroked Marjorie’s long hair.

“Good girl. I’ll carry these for you. If you feel thirsty when we get to the hospital, you can have one then.”

As soon as the car engine started, the smell of gasoline filled the air, and Marjorie suddenly gagged, her face turning deathly pale.

“Bernie, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but Gretchen kept chatting with me about random stuff, and now my head’s killing me…”

Bernard immediately started patting Marjorie’s back, his face tense. Then he shot a glare at Gretchen through the rearview mirror.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up or don’t talk too much? You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Gretchen sighed quietly. She wanted to defend herself but ended up saying nothing.

Seeing her stay silent like it didn’t matter, Bernard’s anger only grew.

“This is all your fault. Look at Marjorie—look how miserable she is because of you!”

Marjorie softly tugged on Bernard’s hand and began to cough.

“Bernie… it’s not Gretchen’s fault. She just loves to gossip, you know, and once she starts” — She coughed again — “she can’t stop…”

The hospital was only 20 minutes away, but to Gretchen, it felt like 2,000 kilometers.

The whole drive, Bernard kept glaring at her in the mirror, his frustration practically steaming out of him.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Bernard jumped out of the car and rushed to open the passenger door.

His voice was full of concern as he asked, “Marjorie, are you okay? Can you walk?”

Marjorie leaned back weakly, her face pale and her brows furrowed slightly. “No, Bernard… My legs feel so weak.”

Gretchen watched as Bernard gently scooped Marjorie into his arms, holding her like she was a princess. It was exactly like that day on the bridge—the way he looked at her, the way he held her—everything was the same.

But Gretchen didn’t feel that same overwhelming despair as she had back then. Now, all she felt was exhaustion.

Bernard was the same as last time, but this time he turned around as if he remembered something.

“Gretchen, grab Marjorie’s bag of drinks. She might get thirsty later.”

At the hospital, Gretchen’s wound treatment turned out to be much more complicated than Marjorie’s.

After carefully checking Marjorie’s face, the doctor only told her to drink more water.

But when Gretchen’s bandages were removed, the doctor gasped.

“Didn’t I tell you not to lift anything heavy? Look at this—the wound’s torn open!”

Right then, Bernard walked in and overheard the doctor’s exclamation. Instead of looking concerned, he let out a cold laugh.

“She lifts weights all the time. Of course, it’s going to tear!”

The doctor froze mid-action and didn’t say anything until Bernard left the room. “Ma’am, is he your…?”

Gretchen closed her eyes and answered flatly, “He’s nothing to me anymore.”

The doctor felt sorry for her, but seeing her pale face, he held back whatever he wanted to say.

When the cold disinfectant touched her torn skin, Gretchen didn’t seem to feel the pain. She didn't even flinch.

The doctor couldn’t help but say softly, “Ma’am, if it hurts, tell me, okay? You don’t have to tough it out. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

Gretchen forced a bitter smile.

The sting of alcohol disinfecting her wound couldn’t compare to the constant stinging ache Bernard caused her.

Outside the dressing room, she could vaguely hear Bernard and Marjorie laughing.

“Bernie, when I’m better, can you take me shopping for dresses?”

Bernard’s voice was affectionate. “No need for you to pick. I’ll just have the whole store moved to my place. You can keep what you like and throw away what you don’t.”

Marjorie giggled.

“Aww, Bernie, you’re too good to me,” she said. Then, she added, “Can I come to your family dinner later? I want to meet your parents.”

Bernard paused for a moment.

“Our family dinner? It’s just going to be loud and boring. I’ll take Gretchen to make an appearance for my parents, then I’ll come down and spend time with you. I just use her to entertain Mom and Dad, you know. Nothing more.”

At the dinner, Bernard was lost in his thoughts.

He barely touched his food, either texting away or smiling faintly to himself.

Reinhold, his father, raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Bernard, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Bernard’s smile grew even wider. “Well, my girl treats me really well.”

Reinhold and Dolores exchanged delighted glances before asking in unison, “Which girl?”

Bernard raised a proud eyebrow, his eyes flicking toward Gretchen.

“Who else could it be? Of course, it’s—”

Just then, his phone rang, and Gretchen saw the name on the screen: [Baby Marjorie]

Bernard ignored the surprised looks from the table and picked up the call immediately.

Marjorie’s sweet voice came through the speaker. “Bernie, are you done? It’s so cold here in the car.”

Bernard chided her lightly. “Turn the heat up, silly girl!”

Gretchen listened, her face expressionless. Once the call ended, Bernard stood up quickly.

“Dad, Mom, something came up. I gotta go now.” He turned to Gretchen. “Gretchen, you stay and chat with them for me.”

Reinhold frowned deeply. “What’s so urgent? Look at Gretchen, her arm’s still in a bandage. If you’re leaving, at least take her home first.”

But Gretchen was tired of watching Bernard show off his affection with Marjorie. “There’s no need, Uncle Terrence. I’ll head home on my own later. I don’t wanna trouble Bernard.”

“That’s not happening,” Reinhold insisted. “Bernard, take Gretchen home first.”

As Gretchen followed Bernard down the hall, he suddenly stopped at a corner.

“Didn’t know you had it in you. What kind of spell did you put on my dad to make him like you so much, Gretchen?”

Gretchen responded coolly. “I have no idea.”

Bernard’s face darkened, his brows knitting together. “Listen, Gretchen, don’t try to pull this attitude with me. Did I not make myself clear enough?”

Gretchen stared at him steadily. “Go ahead. Say what you need to say.”

Bernard tilted his head, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Our parents decided on our marriage, and I’ll keep my word and marry you. But after that, how I treat you—that’s a different story.”

Gretchen’s heart sank as the words hit her. “And then?”

Bernard let out a dry chuckle. “And then? I’ll spend my life with the woman I truly love. I’ve never met anyone as sweet and kind as she is.”

Gretchen’s voice echoed through the parking garage as she choked out, “You mean… Marjorie?”

Bernard’s expression turned cold. “I’m warning you—don’t badmouth Marjorie to my parents. She’s nothing like you—she doesn’t have your hidden agendas. If I ever catch you—”

“Bernie!”