Before either of them could react—Solana's hand whipped across Imogen's face with a sharp, ringing crack.

"Solana!"

Wilbert's pupils constricted.He hurriedly pulled Imogen behind him, shielding her. His eyes when he glared at Solana were cold—terrifying.

"Are you insane?!"

He barely finished the sentence before—

Smack!

Solana swung again, this time landing the slap squarely on his cheek. Her beautiful eyes glimmered with frigid resolve.

"You two—neither of you will get away with this!"

With that, she grabbed her bag and walked off without looking back.

She had loved wholeheartedly; now she could let go just as cleanly.

A heart that would never warm—she no longer wanted it. A man stained beyond saving—she didn't want him either.

That night, Solana dialed her father.

"Dad... I want a divorce. I want to go abroad and stay with you."

Hearing her words, Joel froze. Then, realizing what must have happened, his voice soared in panic and rage.

"Sweetheart, why suddenly? Did Wilbert hurt you?!"

Solana opened her mouth to deny it—yet found she didn't even have the strength to speak.

Her silence said everything.

Joel's fury erupted; a teacup shattered between his fingers. "That bastard! How dare he treat my daughter like this! Don't worry—your father won't let him off easily!"

"Fortunately, I left a clause in your prenup back then. No matter whose fault it is, once you divorce, the Patel family must transfer 50% of their shares to you! If he doesn't die from it, he'll shed half his skin!"

Solana didn't want to cry, yet her eyes burned uncontrollably. "Thank you, Dad..."

"No need for thanks. But I can't leave my project right now—I'll send your mother back to bring you home."

After the call, Solana stepped toward the elevator.

The moment she entered, a violent crash shook the entire shaft.

A sickening drop wrenched her body upward—the elevator plummeted. She slammed into the wall as agony tore through her spine.

The sealed darkness pressed in on her. Sweat drenched her clothes as her body trembled uncontrollably.

Her claustrophobia clawed at her sanity. Every second inside felt like slow, vivid hell.

Just as she was about to lose consciousness—the doors were kicked open.

Wilbert stood there.

Solana's hopeless heart sparked with desperate instinct. She reached out a trembling hand.

"Help me..."

He said nothing. He walked toward her with measured steps.

But the moment his hand touched hers—

Crack!

He twisted her wrist sharply. His deep eyes were colder than midnight steel. "Solana, these hands need to learn a lesson."

"Don't touch people you shouldn't."

Her face went ghost-pale. Pain stole her breath, yet she bit back any plea.

"She deserved it," Solana choked out. "I'll slap her every time I see her—ah!"

Crack!

Her other wrist snapped. Her scream tore through the shaft. She collapsed to the floor, curling in sheer agony.

Wilbert stepped forward and seized her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"Next time, I won't stop at breaking your hands."

Then he turned and walked out, without a shred of hesitation.

As the elevator doors slid shut again, Solana stared at the darkening gap, then at her mangled wrists. Her tears broke free and fell uncontrollably.

Five years... Five whole years. And this was the first time Wilbert had ever stepped into their marital home—only to defend another woman.

How utterly pathetic.

...

A week later, Solana was finally released. Only because the Patel family's monthly banquet required her attendance.

Seeing her ghastly pale face, Wilbert's breath hitched—an unfamiliar, tangled emotion coiling faintly in his chest.

He hurried to catch up with her, his voice stiff.

"I may have gone too far last time." He pulled a gift box from behind him. "The bag you liked before. Consider it compensation."

Solana blinked.

Five years of marriage—this was the first gift he had ever given her.

Once, she would have been ecstatic. But now... her warmth had long been extinguished—in the coldness of his daily neglect, in the sight of him kissing Imogen, in the pain of his hands breaking hers.

She let out a soft, icy laugh and shoved the box back into his arms.

"I don't need it. Take it back."

Then she turned and stepped into the car.

Wilbert stared at his hand hanging uselessly in the air, momentarily stunned. Before he could process it, his phone rang.

Whatever was said on the other end—Solana had never heard such urgency, such panic, in his voice.

"Imogen, don't be scared! I'm coming right now!"

Wilbert barked the order while already twisting around to shout at the driver, "Turn the car around—go to Imogen's place. Now!"

The driver froze, looking conflicted. "Sir, today is the family banquet—"

"Shut up!" Wilbert's dark eyes surged with fury. "Her house is on fire. I'm not leaving her alone!"

Before the driver could respond, Wilbert lunged into the driver's seat and slammed his foot onto the accelerator.

The car tore through the streets, racing toward Imogen's home.

Billowing black smoke smothered the sky. Neighbors fled in panic, keeping as far away from the flames as possible.

Only Wilbert charged straight toward the burning building as if his own life meant nothing.

His assistant tried to restrain him. "Mr. Patel! The firefighters are already inside—you don't need to risk your life!"

But Wilbert shoved him aside coldly. "Move."

Solana watched his silhouette disappear into the smoke and stairs.

Her eyes reddened; the corner of her lips lifted in a hollow, mocking curve.

A year ago, she'd been traveling when a sudden earthquake struck. She was trapped under rubble for three days before being rescued.

She remembered watching others reunite with their loved ones—one by one.

While she waited alone.

A week passed, yet no one came.

She had clung to her half-broken phone, searching for a signal through the ruins—just to call Wilbert.

After a hundred failed attempts, the call finally connected.

She, who rarely cried, broke down for the first time over the phone.

"Wilbert... the place I'm staying at—there was an earthquake—"

Before she even finished, his cold voice sliced through her trembling words.

"Find the rescue team. I'm busy. Figure out your own way back."

After saying that, he hung up.

In that mechanical beeping tone, Solana felt what it meant for a heart to die.

Yet she still forced herself to believe, He was just emotionally cold. He treated everyone like this.

But today, watching him rush into a burning building for another woman without hesitation, she finally understood.

Her hope had always been nothing but a tragic, lonesome joke.

...

An hour later, Wilbert stumbled out of the smoke, carrying Imogen in his arms.

His prized custom suit had been burnt into ash—nothing left but ruined fabric clinging to his frame.

He didn't care at all. His entire focus was the unconscious girl in his arms.

"Imogen, are you hurt? Does anything feel wrong?"

Solana watched calmly, though a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

The next second, a loud thud sounded.

"Wilbert! Wilbert, what's wrong?! Wake up!"

Solana snapped her head toward the sound.

Wilbert had collapsed.

His right arm was scorched black. His back was soaked in blood, his shirt shredded and burned.

He had taken such severe injuries... Yet he had never uttered a single sound.

...

Three hours later, the emergency operation finally ended.

The Patel family rushed over in chaos. The banquet dissolved instantly as all the elders arrived with pale faces.

"Although Mr. Patel pulled through..." The doctor sighed heavily after reviewing the results.

"The injuries are far too serious. Combined with the delay in treatment... I'm afraid his right hand will be permanently disabled."

"What?!"

Madam Patel staggered, face drained of color, nearly collapsing. "Disabled? You're saying my son's hand is ruined?!"

The elders present exchanged grim looks.

The heir of the Patel family became a cripple?

It was impossible to accept.

Something flashed across Madam Patel's expression. Her face twisted with fury.

"Who? Who did this to my son?!"

She grabbed a teacup and smashed it across the floor, her glare sweeping the room like a blade.

Her gaze landed on Imogen, trembling in a corner.

Her eyes sharpened instantly. She lunged forward, yanking Imogen's hair and dragging her out.

"Was it you, you little tramp? You nearly killed my son—I'll beat you to death!"

Imogen screamed, tears spilling down her face. "N-No... It wasn't me..."

Suddenly her eyes darted around—then fixed on Solana.

Her trembling finger shot up. "It was her! She threw a tantrum and demanded Mr. Patel go inside to coax her! It has nothing to do with me!"

"You—stop lying!" Solana snapped her head up, fury blazing through her. "You were the one who called him. Don't you dare push this onto me!"

Madam Patel hesitated, her sharp stare turning toward Solana.

Solana met her gaze calmly, her lips curving into a cold arc.

"If you don't believe me, check the call logs. That will tell you everything."

Imogen's face drained even further, panic leaking from her eyes.

A bodyguard moved in to take her phone.

Just then—

"Stop!"

A voice rang out behind them.

Wilbert yanked the IV line from his arm and stepped in front of Imogen, shielding her with his own body.

"I said no one is allowed to touch her!”

"Enough."

His father's gaze cut through the room like a blade—quiet, but heavy with warning.

“Since you insist on protecting her, then tell me—who caused your injury?"

"No matter the reason, the one who destroyed the heir of the Patel family's hand must pay the price."

The air snapped into stillness.

Wilbert's body went rigid. His fingers curled without him realizing it.

He knew his father's methods better than anyone—precise, brutal, and utterly merciless.

Even toward his own son.

His eyes wavered between Imogen and Solana.

After a long, suffocating hesitation, he finally spoke, each word heavy and cold. "...It was Solana."

Solana shot to her feet, disbelief crashing into her like a cold wave.

"She threw a tantrum, set the fire on purpose, and caused my injury," Wilbert continued, eyes dead and emotionless. “It has nothing to do with Imogen.”

Each word landed like a needle dipped in frost, stabbing straight into her chest, choking her breath.

"Solana!"

Wilbert's father, Lloyd, slammed his palm onto the table, his gaze dark and poisonous.

"You’ve been married into the Patel family for years, yet your behavior grows more outrageous by the day. I tolerated you for your father’s sake—but today you injured Wilbert and sent him to the hospital. Do not blame me for being merciless."

His voice dropped to a chilling command. "Guards. Enforce the family punishment."

The moment the words fell, several bodyguards surged forward, pinning Solana to the floor.

"Get away from me!" She struggled violently, her voice turning hoarse, but she couldn’t break free no matter how hard she fought.

“Wilbert!” Solana screamed, despair cracking her voice.

“If you dare to let them do this—I swear I won’t let you go!”

But he didn’t even look at her.

Solana was dragged all the way from the hospital to the Patel family’s old residence.

Bang!

Her body was thrown to the ground. The back of her head struck the rough cement, and a white-hot pain exploded behind her eyes.

"You beasts—my father won't—ah!"

Before she could finish, a whip with barbed edges lashed across her back.

Agony detonated through her entire body, sharp enough to steal her breath.

Cold sweats soaked her forehead, but she clamped her teeth so tightly her jaw trembled, refusing to scream.

One lash.

Two lashes.

By the fiftieth, her back was nothing but torn flesh and blood.

Her strength emptied out. Her consciousness drifted like a dying flame.

In that haze, a memory surfaced.

When she was ten, she and Wilbert had been kidnapped.

To shield her, the small boy had endured blow after blow until he was covered in blood—but still forced out a tiny smile for her.

"Solana... don't cry. It doesn't hurt."

Because of that one sentence, her heart had been chained to him for ten years.

No matter how cold he was. No matter how deeply he ignored her. She never hesitated to love him.

But today—these fifty lashes shattered the last piece of her faith.

They shattered the last bond between them.

"Quit pretending you're dead!"

A sharp bark snapped her back to reality.

"Stand up!"

“Get up!” A bodyguard kicked her sharply in the knee.

Blood surged up her throat and spilled from her lips. She collapsed, unable to even raise her head.

In the haze of pain, she heard low, malicious laughter near her ear.

"Mr. Patel said you'll taste what it feels like to burn—let's see if you dare play games with Sir Wilbert again."

Then several blazing torches were hurled into the room.

"You..."

Solana tried to cry out, but the heavy door slammed shut.

Flames erupted instantly, devouring the room.

Thick, suffocating smoke filled her lungs. Her skin felt like it was being roasted alive. Every breath sent piercing pain through her body.

A burning mass of fire rolled toward her—Solana’s pupils shrank. With the last of her strength, she stumbled toward the window and hurled herself against the glass.