Disappointment lingered faintly in Lily's replies, but she chose not to pry further. Before long, the conversation window sank into complete silence.

Madison slowly scrolled through years of old messages, uncovering fragments of truth she had once overlooked so carelessly.

On her birthday two years earlier, she had spent days pleading with Declan to travel with her before he reluctantly agreed. Yet at the last moment, he claimed urgent business overseas and disappeared. When he returned a month later, he casually tossed her a few duty-free skincare items, saying he hadn't had time to prepare anything else.

At that same time, Lily told her excitedly how she'd impulsively flown alone to chase the northern lights after feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Terrified she might face danger traveling alone, her lover had abandoned everything at home just to keep her company for an entire month.

One year ago, while rushing important documents to Declan's company office, Madison had been caught in a devastating car accident. Blood poured from her body, her consciousness fading as death hovered terrifyingly close. She called Declan again and again, yet every single call went unanswered. In the end, she regained just enough awareness inside the ambulance to sign her own critical-risk surgery consent papers.

After she later woke in the hospital, Lily happily shared a story about spending Christmas reunited with the man she loved. While watching fireworks with him, she had accidentally slipped and fallen. Panicked, he'd sped through seven consecutive red lights to rush her to the hospital.

One memory after another locked perfectly into place. Every occasion Madison had quietly buried her pain and convinced herself Declan was merely consumed by work, he had actually been devoting all his time and tenderness to another woman.

As Madison curled against the couch cushions, her eyesight gradually clouded over. Only when she touched her cheeks did she realize tears had soaked her entire face.

At that moment, the sound of approaching footsteps drifted down from upstairs.

She lifted her eyes slowly. Declan stood on the second-floor landing, staring down at her with detached indifference. "Come prepare my luggage. Verdantia is unbearably humid this season, so pack lightweight clothes and mosquito spray."

He stopped briefly before adding in an even colder voice, "And you're already three days overdue on this month's rent. Transfer the money to my account before today ends. Otherwise, we'll proceed according to the prenuptial agreement."

Madison dug her nails into her palms without realizing it.

The entire situation felt absurd beyond words.

Though she was legally his wife, she still had to pay rent punctually each month to remain in the house. Ever since their marriage began, every expense between them had been calculated down to the last cent and split evenly.

Yet for the woman he truly cherished, he could spend enormous amounts without hesitation, reserving a luxurious seaside resort and preparing a wedding extravagant enough to resemble a dream.

Meanwhile, he treated his wife no differently from hired help, ordering her around without even the slightest trace of remorse.

The ache inside Madison's chest became so violent it nearly split her apart. After a long silence, she finally raised her head again, her voice cracked and fragile. "Do you really have to leave?"

Declan's brows tightened immediately, impatience darkening his expression. "What kind of question is that? My flight departs in five hours. Stop wasting my time with pointless nonsense."

The frigid man standing before her bore absolutely no resemblance to the devoted, gentle lover Lily had always described with such affection.

The taste of blood spread thicker across Madison's throat as she continued staring at him without blinking. "Doesn't the company have anyone else capable of handling this? Do you truly have to leave right before our anniversary?"

"I already explained this yesterday. The partnership overseas is extremely important, and no one except me can finalize the negotiations." Declan's eyes grew sharper with irritation. "Madison, are you honestly throwing a fit over a mere anniversary? I'm not only your husband—I am the CEO of Owen Group. Before we ever married, I made myself perfectly clear: I require a wife who is obedient and reasonable. If you fail to meet that expectation, I won't mind replacing you with another woman."

Each icy sentence sliced mercilessly through her ears and deep into her heart, yet strangely, Madison no longer felt capable of hurting any more than she already did.

Naturally, he wouldn't care. After all, he was going to fly abroad and marry the woman who owned his heart.

Something inside Madison seemed to collapse completely. She sat there motionless for a long while before finally forcing down the bitterness clogging her throat. "Alright. Then let's divorce. I don't want to continue being your wife either."

The entire room descended into stunned silence.

A trace of surprise flashed briefly across Declan's face before turning into a cold, mocking smile. "So you've learned this trick now? Pretending to leave just to threaten me? Madison, have you forgotten what you are without me?"

He descended the staircase step by step until he stood before her, undisguised contempt filling his gaze. "If you hadn't manipulated my grandfather into forcing this marriage, do you honestly think someone with nothing to her name could ever have become my wife? You spent years plotting your way into this family, and now you suddenly dare to mention divorce? You don't have parents, qualifications, or any real abilities. Aside from cooking meals and cleaning the house, what value do you even possess? Without the title of 'Mrs. Owen,' you're nothing more than worthless trash crawling at the very bottom."

Madison locked eyes with Declan, only to be met with a gaze stripped of all warmth—pure, unfiltered contempt. In that instant, it felt as though every drop of blood in her body had frozen solid.

Over the years, she had abandoned her profession entirely for him, never once returning to the operating room, reducing herself to nothing more than a housewife orbiting his life.

What Declan never realized was that before becoming his wife, she had once been Croria's most celebrated surgeon. That was precisely why, with nothing but roadside instruments and unshaking precision, she had been able to intubate his grandfather and pull him back from the brink of death during a sudden cardiac arrest.

All because he once casually mentioned he preferred a wife devoted entirely to the home, she had walked away from her career, from postgraduate studies abroad, and from everything she had built—sacrificing it all for him without hesitation.

And yet those very sacrifices had become the weapon he now used to belittle her.

A faint, bitter curve formed on Madison's lips. "You never wanted me as your wife in the first place. Isn't a divorce exactly what you've been waiting for? Since you're so eager to leave for your business trip, let's get a divorce when you return. I've spent years being your pack mule—I'm done now."

Declan's brows drew together sharply.

He had assumed that laying out facts plainly would force Madison into submission. Instead, she stood there—unyielding, almost provocatively calm—openly challenging his patience.

"Fine. If you want a divorce, I'll give you one." A derisive laugh slipped past Declan's lips. "But Madison, don't forget the prenup. Walk away from me, and you don't get a single cent. And every expense you couldn't split equally over the years has been logged as a debt. If I recall correctly, it exceeds seventy million dollars. I have every legal right to recover it during the divorce."

His gaze raked over her with open disdain. "I don't have time for this nonsense now. My lawyer will send you the full breakdown. I'll return in three days. By then, you'll either admit your mistake and apologize, or I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life buried under that debt."

With that, he turned without another word, packed his bags, and left with a door slam that echoed through the house.

The villa fell into a suffocating silence.

True to his word, five minutes later, Madison's phone lit up with a long, meticulously itemized bill from his lawyer.

She couldn't keep any of the jewelry he had given her, yet she had to pay exorbitant usage fees. High-end ingredients she had used to prepare his meals were listed as personal consumption costs. Even fuel and transportation for errands she had run on his behalf were calculated down to the last cent.

At the very end sat a staggering figure—fifty million dollars. The justification was so absurd it blurred the line between cruelty and farce. Years ago, after he'd learned Lily had gone abroad, he'd fallen into unconsciousness due to alcohol overdose. Madison had shattered the window of his Rolls-Royce to save him. Now, she was being billed for the damages.

If she had known then what kind of man he truly was, she would never have saved him at all.

A sharp breath trembled in her chest. She would repay what was legitimate, but she would also make him pay what he owed her.

She saved the document, wiped the moisture from her face, and dialed a number she hadn't used in a long time—Marc Fletcher, a fellow doctoral classmate.

"I've decided, Marc. I'm divorcing Declan and joining your research team. But I need a top divorce lawyer, and I'm short on funds right now. Do you have any patients who might be suitable for me?"

Marc's delighted voice came through the receiver. "You finally came to your senses? I told you back then that man was trash. You never should've chased him all the way to Croria over some childhood promise. I'll have my lawyer contact you right away. As for patients, I actually do have one. He's the primary financial supporter of our research team, but he's extremely difficult. If you're certain, I'll send you his file."

Madison agreed without hesitation. Difficult patients were nothing new to her. Right now, she needed money, and she needed to make Declan pay. She was prepared to do whatever it took.

Shortly after, the file arrived, accompanied by a note that the patient would be contacted immediately.

After ending the call, Madison opened the document and began reading, her expression tightening little by little.

The name at the top was one that carried immense weight across the country—William Shaw, head of the Shaw family, ruler of Freeport, the one who controlled maritime trade and arms networks throughout the Western Hemisphere.

Five years earlier, he had been gravely injured during a violent internal power struggle. Though he survived, a fragment of shrapnel remained lodged deep within his brain, pressing against critical nerves and causing relentless, excruciating pain. Over time, his temperament had grown increasingly volatile and unpredictable.

The Shaw family had brought in the most renowned specialists in the world, yet the fragment's location made surgery almost impossible. One wrong move would mean death on the operating table. No one dared attempt it.

The challenge was no longer just medical; it was existential.

And if the operation failed, the surgeon would face consequences far worse than death itself.