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."

Marjorie's entire body went rigid. Then every ounce of rage she'd been holding found its center, surging straight to the top of her skull until her scalp prickled and her vision blurred.

She didn't even stop to change out of her slippers. She tore out the front door, flagged down the first car she saw, and told the driver to take her to Christian's villa.

But when she arrived, the housekeeper told her Christian had already left with Bridget for an auction.

There was no time to catch her breath. She turned around and headed for the auction house.

On the way, Bridget's texts kept coming, one after another, each one more vicious than the last.

You love auctions, don't you? You were willing to auction yourself off just to win Christian back. So how about I put your mother's things on the block too?

Marjorie's fingers tightened around her phone until the case creaked. She stared at the words on the screen as if she could burn a hole straight through it.

She urged the driver to go faster. A second later, a truck barreled in from the right and slammed into the car, sending it skidding over forty feet.

The airbag deployed. The back of Marjorie's head cracked against the window, and the world tilted sideways, spinning.

Something warm slid down her face. Blood dripped onto her white dress, one drop at a time, blooming like dark, lurid flowers.

None of it mattered. She unbuckled her seatbelt, shoved the door open, and stumbled out, staggering toward the auction house.

The sight of her drew stares. Someone recognized her as the woman from the leaked affair video, and the whispers started, carried to her ears on the summer breeze.

"Isn't that the former Mrs. Sanchez? The one who cheated? She looks like she's lost it after getting dumped."

"She's probably gone crazy. How embarrassing..."

The gossip cut into her like a blade, slow and deliberate.

The auction house was only a few hundred yards away, but it felt like the longest distance she had ever walked in her life.

She made it through the doors just as the auctioneer was presenting her mother's bracelet. The bidding had already reached a hundred million dollars.

"Two hundred million!"

She screamed it with everything she had. Every head in the room turned toward her.

The auctioneer faltered, clearly not expecting a bracelet that looked so ordinary to command this kind of price. Even his voice wavered.

"Two hundred million, going once."

"Two hundred million, going twice."

"Two hundred million, going three times..."

The gavel was about to fall when a paddle shot up from the audience.

"Five hundred million!"

Marjorie's head snapped toward the voice.

Bridget sat there with one eyebrow raised, a thin smile on her lips. "I changed my mind. I want to buy it back. That's allowed, isn't it?"

Bridget was a college sophomore who couldn't even pay her own tuition without conning someone. There was no way she had that kind of money.

Marjorie's gaze shifted to the man beside her.

Christian had already seen her. He let go of Bridget's waist, rose from his seat, and walked toward Marjorie.

"Marge."

"Today's Bridget's birthday. I promised her I'd support whatever she wanted to do. So just let her have this one, okay?"

In that instant, Marjorie was certain that if rage could take physical form, the fire in her eyes would have burned straight through him.

"That bracelet is MINE! What gives you the right to take what's mine and use it to impress another woman?"

She shoved him away from her with every ounce of strength she had left, then grabbed a paddle from a nearby seat and screamed, "Six hundred million!"

Christian hadn't expected the push. He stumbled backward and barely caught himself on a chair.

The softness in his eyes when he'd first approached was gone. Only irritation remained.

"Marge, and here I was praising you this afternoon for being gracious. Turns out it was all an act. It's just a bracelet. It's Bridget's birthday. I'm not going to let her be unhappy."

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. A second later, Bridget squealed behind him.

"Christian! You just transferred ten billion dollars to me? I love you so much!"