“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!”

A sharp, ear-piercing sound cut through the air, and Gretchen felt like her eardrums were about to burst.

“Someone… someone…”

Bernard sniffled then sprinted toward the car like he was in a hundred-meter race while Gretchen limped after him.

When she finally reached the car, she saw what happened: Marjorie’s high heels had gotten scuffed somehow, leaving a noticeable patch where the paint was chipped.

“What am I going to do, Bernie? It looks so ugly now!”

Bernard was about to get in the car when his phone buzzed with a reminder of his appointment—it was the shareholder meeting for one of his hotels, something he couldn’t skip.

“I’ll have the driver take you to IFC to buy a new pair,” he said, then turned to Gretchen. “You’re not busy, right? Go with Marjorie.”

He added, “Her back’s hurt from dancing, so she can’t bend down. You can help her change shoes.”

Marjorie smiled sweetly, her dimples shallow and delicate. “Thanks for helping me, Gret—”

“I’m busy,” Gretchen cut in.

Bernard looked like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “What did you say, Gretchen?”

Gretchen didn’t hesitate to repeat herself. “I’ve got other things to do. I’m busy.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the parking lot, heading straight for a designer jewelry shop.

Even though the engagement ceremony wasn’t as formal as a wedding, she still needed an engagement ring.

She picked out a plain silver ring—no diamonds, no flashy plating. The design was simple and timeless, but the thick band made her fingers look even longer and more elegant.

The sales assistant greeted her with a polite smile. “Are you buying one ring or a pair, Ma’am?”

“A pair,” Gretchen answered.

“What’s the gentleman’s size, Ma’am? I can check if it needs to be custom-made.”

“Size 23,” Gretchen answered automatically.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake.

That was Bernard’s size. She knew it because, once upon a time, she’d secretly measured his finger while he was napping. But that detail didn’t matter anymore.

The sales assistant noticed her hesitation and reassured her with a warm smile.

“We can adjust the size for any ring—male or female. Why don’t you pick the design you like first, Ma’am?”

Gretchen finalized the order, arranged to pick it up in a week, and headed home feeling satisfied.

But while she was still in the cab on the way back, her phone rang. The sales assistant was on the other end, her voice trembling with panic.

In the background, Gretchen heard a familiar woman’s voice.

“Business is about selling to the highest bidder, isn’t it? I’m offering 10 times the price!”

Her chest started racing. “What happened?”

The sales assistant’s voice cracked, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “There… There’s a woman who came in, and… and she really wants the ring you ordered, Ma’am. She’s demanding we… we sell it to her.”

That familiar voice interrupted again, sharp and entitled. “Here’s my payment. I’m taking it. My fiancé said if you don’t sell it to me, your stop won’t even open tomorrow!”

And then, the line abruptly went dead.

Gretchen didn’t need to guess. She knew exactly who the demanding customer was—Marjorie.

She closed her eyes briefly to compose herself, and then she pulled out her phone and dialed Marjorie’s number. The phone rang four times before it was answered, but the voice on the other end wasn’t Marjorie's.

It was Bernard. “Gretchen, you’ve got some nerve to lie to me. You said you were busy, but you were just out shopping instead!”

Gretchen didn’t even acknowledge his accusation. Her tone was cold and steady when she said, “Give it back.”

Bernard played dumb. “Give what back?”

After a pause, maybe realizing he couldn’t talk his way out of it, he finally said, “You mean the ring? Come on, Marjorie really likes it. Just let her have it.”

But Gretchen didn’t waver. “Why should I? Give it back to me.”

For a moment, Bernard was stunned. But when he spoke again, his tone was icy. “Hey, who do you think you’re talking to, huh?”

In the background, Marjorie’s sweet voice chimed in, full of fake innocence.

“Oh no, did I take something Gretchen liked? Bernie, don’t blame her. I’ll give it back if it’s such a big deal…”

Bernard gritted his teeth, his voice low and clearly restrained.