Scarface promised to have everything handled within a week, and Marjorie finally let herself breathe.

She went straight to the immigration office to file her paperwork, transferred every asset under her name overseas, and booked a flight to Switzerland departing in seven days.

Once all of that was in motion, Marjorie hired a private investigator and turned her attention to the woman named Bridget Quinn.

When she learned that Bridget hadn't even graduated college yet and had a thug ex-boyfriend, a cold smile crossed her face.

She may have debased herself begging Christian to stay during those desperate months, but that didn't mean she was someone who could be pushed around.

Bridget Quinn had the nerve to come for her. Fine. She'd show the little homewrecker exactly how badly that decision could end.

The next morning, Marjorie put on full makeup, stepped into her tallest stilettos, and with the photos the PI had sent clutched in her hand, tracked down Bridget's ex-boyfriend, Mason James.

"Bridget dumped you for another man with money. You really going to just swallow that?"

She slapped the photos down on the table as she spoke.

They fanned out across the surface, every single one showing Bridget and Christian in intimate poses.

Even though she'd already decided she was done loving Christian Sanchez, the sight of those photos still twisted something deep in her chest.

She knew now. The husband who had once loved her like she was his whole world had changed his heart long ago, right under her nose.

Mason had been lounging in a bamboo chair in the yard, half-asleep. When this strange woman barged in, irritation flickered across his face. But the moment his eyes landed on those photos, the irritation ignited into white-hot rage that shot straight to the top of his skull.

"That lying piece of—"

He didn't even finish lighting the cigarette between his fingers. He snatched up the photos and bolted toward Bridget's university.

Marjorie felt the gust of wind as he tore past her. She watched his retreating figure and let the corner of her mouth curve upward.

She'd done her homework before coming.

Bridget's parents favored sons over daughters and had cut off her living expenses the moment she graduated high school. To pay for college, Bridget had deliberately seduced Mason James, a street thug, and under the guise of being his girlfriend, let him cover four full years of tuition.

Once she was certain the money was secured, Bridget dropped Mason without a second thought, reinvented herself as a tough, self-made girl from a poor background, and set her sights on Christian Sanchez.

Any of this could have been uncovered with the slightest effort on Christian's part.

Marjorie didn't know whether Christian genuinely had no idea, or whether he simply craved the thrill of something new and didn't care enough to look.

But none of that mattered anymore.

She was leaving Christian Sanchez behind. A new place, a new life, a clean start.

Mason moved fast. He stormed into Northgate University like a man possessed and spread Bridget's private photos all over campus.

Bridget was furious and frantic, trying to stop him, but Mason slapped her across the face. More than once.

Marjorie lay on the sofa in the villa, watching the video her PI had sent, and felt nothing but satisfaction.

But before the laugh could leave her throat, a news notification popped up on her screen.

She tapped it on instinct. The wall of headlines hit her like ice water down her spine.

BREAKING: Leaked footage of Christian Sanchez's ex-wife cheating!

Pruitt Group CEO dissolves company — connected to affair scandal?

Marjorie Pruitt caught with younger man, entangled at private club all night!

Her hands shook as she tapped one of the headlines. The surveillance footage filled her screen: her, clothes disheveled, lying on a bed with a man she didn't recognize. That night.

For a moment, Marjorie forgot how to breathe.

The video was spreading at tens of thousands of shares per second. Her phone exploded with calls and messages. Friends, business partners, relatives. Everyone demanding to know what was going on.

She powered the phone off and clutched her head in both hands. The memory of that night surged back, vivid and suffocating, and something inside her cracked.

She was the victim. So who had leaked this footage?

The next second, the sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the silence.

Marjorie lifted her head, numb. Christian stood in the doorway, watching her with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

"Marjorie, when you were busy hurting Bridget, did you ever stop to think about what would happen to you?"

Marjorie's entire body went rigid.

When it registered that Christian was the one who had leaked the videos, she lunged toward him, staring at his face in raw disbelief.

"Have you lost your mind? Christian, you cheated first! All I did was teach your mistress a lesson. What gives you the right to do this to me?"

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist mid-swing.

"Marjorie, I think you've got it backwards. You slept with someone else first. Bridget and I only got together after that."

"I posted the video as a reminder: you were the one who made a mistake. You have no right to go after Bridget."

His grip was crushing. A red welt bloomed across her wrist almost instantly.

It hurt. But not as much as her heart.

She couldn't understand it. He had orchestrated this entire charade for another woman, deceived everyone around them. How had he managed to deceive himself in the process?

If she hadn't overheard that conversation between him and someone else, would she have spent the rest of her life in the dark, drowning in guilt that was never hers to carry?

Marjorie bit down on her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. The tears didn't fall.

Then she heard him continue:

"Bridget was slapped for no reason. Her reputation at school has been ruined. You're coming with me to Northgate University right now to give her a proper apology."

"Absolutely not. I—"

She tried to refuse, but he cut her off before she could finish.

"Then I'll take the video to your parents' grave and let them judge for themselves whether their precious daughter wronged her husband first."

"Oh, and if I remember right, your parents preferred peace and quiet when they were alive. Their ashes are buried deeper than most, aren't they? I might have to dig them up so they can get a good look at the footage."

Every word died in Marjorie's throat. She stared at Christian as if seeing him for the very first time.

Losing her parents was the wound that never closed. She still woke in the dead of night, clutching her pillow, sobbing from the sheer weight of missing them.

And every time, Christian had been the one to pull her into his arms and hold her until the crying stopped.

Now he was threatening to desecrate their ashes?

For another woman?

Marjorie stared at him, blank and still. Then she laughed. The sound was hollow, soaked in despair.

"Fine. I'll do it."

She spent the entire afternoon kneeling on the grounds of Northgate University, repeating the words "I'm sorry" to Bridget over and over again.

Her cheeks were already swollen high. Christian had held Bridget's hand and delivered each slap himself, one after another.

Bridget had been slapped five times. Christian demanded Marjorie repay it tenfold.

The first slap brought humiliation.

The second brought a pain that split her chest wide open.

By the third, all she could feel was confusion. How had the man who once loved her so deeply become this?

By the last slap, only hatred remained.

She hated Christian. She hated herself more for ever loving him.

When the ordeal was finally over, Marjorie dragged her exhausted body toward the exit. Someone grabbed her wrist.

She turned. Bridget stood behind her, triumph painted across every feature.

This was the first time Marjorie had faced Bridget directly. The sophomore held a smile between her teeth, eyes traveling up and down Marjorie's battered form.

"Did you really think those little tricks would drive me away from Christian? He was willing to divorce you for me. That alone proves I've already won."

"You. Lost."

Looking at the pride on Bridget's face, Marjorie saw a ghost of her former self.

She had once believed that having Christian's love meant having the whole world.

Reality had taught her otherwise. Christian's love wasn't even worth the trash it belonged in.

A man who could cheat would never be faithful to anyone.

But Marjorie couldn't be bothered to explain that to Bridget. She let out a quiet laugh and turned to leave, but Bridget leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper only the two of them could hear: "If you don't walk away from Christian on your own, I will keep framing you. Again and again, until you're dead."

The instant the words left her mouth, Bridget let out a piercing scream and toppled backward.

Marjorie stood perfectly still, watching Bridget's one-woman show, watching Christian sprint over with panic etched across his face. She was so tired she could barely feel anything at all.

So when Christian tenderly helped Bridget to her feet and turned toward Marjorie with his mouth already opening, she raised her hand and slapped herself across her own swollen cheek.

"I didn't push her. But you won't believe that. I've been punished. So may I leave now?"

The fury in Christian's chest guttered out the moment he met her eyes. They were empty. Completely, utterly empty.

His hand drifted to his chest without thinking. Something in there felt hollow.

After returning from Northgate University, Marjorie slept for two full days at the villa.

She was exhausted.

The hatred for Christian, the pain of the past, the fury of betrayal. These tangled emotions wound around her heart like a thousand threads pulled tight, leaving her barely able to breathe.

When she finally woke, Marjorie stretched and drew two heavy circles on the calendar.

Two more days. In two days, Scarface would deliver on his promise, and she'd have a front-row seat to the show.

By then, Christian's reputation in this country would be in ruins, and she'd be settling into a new life in Switzerland, one that was entirely her own.

The thought alone made her feel lighter than she had in months.

She ate a quick breakfast and started packing.

The villa was full of gifts Christian had given her over the years.

She'd once treated them like reasons to keep living. After their "reconciliation," she'd rushed to move every last one into Hillside Villa, where she could look at them daily, savoring the memories.

Now, the sight of them turned her stomach.

A yellow teddy bear, his gift for her tenth birthday. Marjorie built a fire in the backyard and tossed it into the flames.

A blue preserved flower arrangement, the token he'd given her when they first got together. He'd told her his love would last as long as those flowers. Marjorie let out a cold laugh, picked up a pair of scissors, and cut the arrangement in half.

A one-carat diamond ring, his proposal gift. Marjorie held it up, turned it once in the light, and flicked it into the stream behind the villa.

By the time she'd finished disposing of the trash, it was already afternoon. Marjorie turned back toward the villa to pack her own luggage and found Christian standing in the living room.

He seemed to have just arrived. He hadn't even taken off his coat.

Marjorie didn't know why he was here. She took an instinctive step back.

"What do you want?"

Before the words had fully left her mouth, he pulled her into his arms.

The familiar scent of sandalwood filled her nose. She used to love it. Now, laced with the unmistakable trace of a woman's perfume, it made her want to gag.

"Marjorie, did you forget? I come to see you once a week."

His voice dripped with practiced tenderness. She couldn't stand another second of it. She shoved him hard and slapped him across the face.

"You cheated on me, and you still expect us to play house?"

"Why not?"

Christian turned his head with the blow. A red mark bloomed across his cheek, but he didn't look angry.

"You slept with another man, and I forgave you, didn't I? Marjorie, as long as we love each other, we can always be together. You're still living in this villa. You haven't moved out. That proves you still have feelings for me, doesn't it?"

"I know Bridget's existence upsets you. But in circles like ours, who only has one partner their whole life? Bridget and I are just dating. In my heart, Mrs. Sanchez will always be you."

His arm tightened around her as he spoke. Marjorie could barely breathe against his grip, but inside, she was laughing.

She hadn't moved out because every property under her name had been converted to liquid assets and transferred overseas.

She couldn't be bothered to rent another place, so she'd stayed here to sort through the leftover garbage.

As for the cheating, that had been his doing from start to finish. And now he had the audacity to dress it up like some noble arrangement. In two days, he'd pay the price he owed.

But none of that was something she could tell him.

Just as she was about to struggle free, his phone rang.

It was Bridget. Christian didn't bother stepping away. He answered right in front of her.

"Christian, I miss you."

Bridget's syrupy voice poured through the speaker, ringing clear through the empty villa.

Marjorie had been wondering how to get rid of him. Hearing that voice, she grabbed his sleeve and gestured toward the door, urging him to go.

She was trying to push him out. But through Christian's eyes, it looked like Marjorie was being accommodating.

He gave a self-satisfied nod, hung up the call, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

"See, Marjorie? That's the grace of a real wife. Don't worry. In my heart, you'll always come first."

She watched him leave, eager as a dog called to heel. She didn't feel sad. But something gnawed at the edges of her calm, a low hum of unease she couldn't place.

She went back to the bedroom to finish packing. It wasn't until she saw the empty jewelry box that she understood where the feeling had come from.

Her mother's jade bracelet was gone.

The only thing her mother had ever left her.

At the same moment, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number had sent her a voice message.

Marjorie tapped it open. Bridget's gloating voice spilled from the speaker.

"I threw a little tantrum with Christian and told him to bring me the thing you care about most. And guess what? He did. Your mommy's bracelet is so pretty, Marjorie. It's just a shame that something like this... breaks so easily."