On the day of her mother's funeral, Beth Cox's husband didn't show.

Beth stood in the funeral home lobby, clutching the urn, and sent him ninety-nine sixty-second voice messages before he finally rushed in, still wearing the court robes he hadn't had time to change out of.

The moment she saw Melvin, the floodgates opened. She couldn't help it. The words poured out of her in a torrent of hurt and accusation, one grievance tumbling over the next.

Melvin rubbed his temples with a pained expression, but he stood there and let her go on for half an hour before he finally spoke:

"Don't be upset. I was swamped today. I'll go with you to the cemetery right now, okay?"

"What good is coming now? When they were cremating my mother, when I needed you most, where were you?"

Beth's face flushed deep red. Her fists clenched at her sides, and she looked ready to launch into another round, fully prepared to keep going until she'd said every last word.

But Melvin frowned, something he rarely did, and raised a hand to cut her off:

"Your mother has passed. The cremation is done. What's the point of all this? Will it bring her back? I have an important wedding to attend tonight. I'm running late. I need to go."

Beth stared at him, eyes wide.

She couldn't comprehend it. Today was the day they laid her mother to rest, and he was leaving for a wedding.

She chased him to his car, her voice cracking with fury: "Melvin Henson, if you go watch someone else get married today, tomorrow you'll be watching us get divorced!"

Divorce. She'd lost count of how many times that word had left her mouth.

Everyone in Harbor City knew that Beth Cox, heiress to the Cox Group, was stunningly beautiful and impeccably pedigreed, but she was also a notorious chatterbox. Give her any topic, any person, and she could talk circles around them for hours, refusing to stop until she'd made her point.

Her family adored her. The people around her indulged her. So whatever she said went, and no one dared push back.

Melvin might have been a famous attorney, legendary for his silver tongue, but even he was powerless against her. The moment she dropped the word "divorce," he'd surrender on the spot and coax her back with soft words.

Beth waited for Melvin to step out of the car and soothe her. Instead, she turned and found herself face to face with a striking, ice-cold beauty.

The woman wore a perfectly tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, a stack of files pressed against her chest. Her expression carried the detached severity of someone perpetually on the clock.

"Mrs. Henson, don't you think you're being a little unreasonable today?"

"Attorney Henson took on a major case today. Three lives and tens of millions of dollars in financial disputes. Your messages were pinging nonstop in the middle of his court session. He rushed here the moment he finished, and you're still going after him like this. Tell me, which matters more: the victims who are still alive, or your mother who's already gone?"

That single remark nearly choked the words right out of Beth's throat.

Beth recognized her. Jeanette Pruitt, a recent intern at Melvin's firm. Melvin himself had said the girl lacked talent and wasn't worth investing in. When had she started keeping her at his side?

Melvin stepped out of the car and gently took the files from Jeanette's hands, smiling at her with a look full of warmth and admiration.

Beth's chest seized. Her eyes locked onto Jeanette, and she trembled with rage:

"You're nothing but an intern working under my husband. Since when do you get to lecture me?"

Jeanette offered a thin smile, adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, and let her gaze drift toward Melvin:

"Mrs. Henson, first of all, I'm not an intern anymore. Attorney Henson has made me his partner and personal assistant. I'm not like you, chattering away all day until he can't stand it. I actually help him. In his work and in his life."

"Second, Attorney Henson spends every day in court, talking and listening for hours on end. When he's off the clock, all he wants is a little peace and quiet. I wonder if Mrs. Henson is simply too rich and too idle, which is why she's always so relentless and overbearing."

Beth saw the undisguised contempt in Jeanette's eyes and raised her hand, ready to slap that look right off her face.

A strong hand caught her wrist. Melvin's brow was furrowed, his eyes dark and heavy as they bore into her:

"Enough! Beth, you're not just running your mouth like a shrew anymore. You're starting to act like one too."

"Jeanette is the most important person by my side right now. I won't let you lay a finger on her."

The words drove through Beth's chest like a blade. Pain spread outward from the wound, so sudden and so total that her legs nearly buckled. She shook like a leaf caught in a gale.

His grip was crushing, as though he meant to grind her bones to dust.

He called her a shrew, yet he called Jeanette by her first name, soft and familiar.

So that was it. His absence today, the sudden shift in his demeanor, all of it traced back to this woman, who had somehow, at some point she couldn't name, become "the most important person by his side."

Once, Melvin had said those same words about Beth.

Years ago, the first time they met, Melvin was a fresh law school graduate. His very first client was unhappy with the outcome and stormed into the firm, berating him until he stood there red-faced and speechless.

Beth happened to be passing by. She couldn't just watch, so she stepped in and argued with the client, her quick tongue firing so fast and so sharp that the man eventually sputtered into silence and gave up.

After the client left, Melvin wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at her with pure gratitude:

"Thank you. If you hadn't been here, who knows how long that would've dragged on. You were incredible. I've always admired women who can talk like that."

Beth's face turned crimson. Every wealthy young man her family had set her up with over the years had fled within ten minutes, unable to handle how much she talked.

She'd failed ninety-nine blind dates. She'd all but given up, resigned to growing old alone.

And here was someone who didn't just tolerate her. He admired her for the very thing everyone else ran from. It felt like fate.

Soon, all of Harbor City knew that the Cox heiress was making no secret of dating a nobody junior attorney, parking her Ferrari outside his office every day, tagging along to eat street food from sidewalk carts.

The Cox family objected at first. But Beth talked at her parents day and night, going on and on about how wonderful Melvin was, how driven, how special, swearing she would marry him or no one.

Eventually, her parents gave in. They didn't just accept Melvin; they threw the family's resources and connections behind him. Combined with his own talent and relentless drive, he shot to prominence in just a few years, opening his own firm and winning the Bar Association's Elite Attorney Award.

After the wedding, Beth still talked as much as ever, and Melvin would sit there with a patient smile, listening.

But gradually, flickers of impatience crept in. Whenever they did, Beth got upset, because she believed communication was the most important thing between husband and wife.

So every time, she'd remind him by threatening divorce.

Melvin had long since learned the routine. All he had to do was pull her into his arms and say, "Alright, alright, I'm listening, okay?" and the tears would dissolve into a smile.

After all, she loved him that much. She would never actually go through with it.

But now, the woman who always had too much to say stood as if something had closed around her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. She stared at him for a long time before forcing out two dry, hollow words: "I want a divorce."

Melvin let out a cold laugh, turned around, opened the car door, and placed a protective hand over Jeanette's head as she ducked inside. "Get in, Jeanette. We need to get to the wedding. You still have to change into your gown."

Then, without so much as a backward glance, he said to Beth: "Fine. We'll talk about it when I get home tonight."

The black Maybach pulled away and vanished down the road. Beth stood where he'd left her, trembling.

She felt like she should say something. But she found she had nothing left to say.

Every urge to speak, every word she'd ever stored up, dissolved into nothing.

She lowered her head and texted her best friend overseas: "I'm going to divorce Melvin. After it's done, I'll come to you. Your jewelry design company still has an opening, right?"

Beth had studied jewelry design. She was extraordinarily gifted, but she'd turned down her friend's invitations again and again for Melvin's sake, passing up chance after chance at international recognition.

Her friend replied almost instantly: "Beth, come on. You say this every time, and every time you end up right back by his side. You two are married. Just sit down and talk it out!"

Beth smiled bitterly. There was nothing left to talk about.

She typed one more message: "I mean it this time. One month from now, I'll be done with him for good."

Melvin didn't come home until late that night, reeking of liquor.

He spotted Beth sitting on the couch and rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritation bleeding through his voice. "You're still up? If you're looking for another fight, save it. I drank too much and I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy."

Beth held a document out to him. "Just sign this."

"What is it this time? Jewelry? A new car?"

His vision was swimming. He didn't so much as glance at the words DIVORCE AGREEMENT printed across the top before picking up a pen and scrawling his name.

In the past, whenever he came home late and drunk, Beth would get angry. She'd lecture him about what alcohol and sleep deprivation did to the body, talking nonstop while she wiped his face with a warm towel and set a pot of hangover soup on the stove.

He would just listen in silence, drifting off to the sound of her fussing.

The next day, to smooth things over, he'd buy her a piece of jewelry or some rare artwork.

But tonight, Beth said nothing more. There was no soup simmering on the stove. She simply gathered the document, gave him one last look, and turned to walk upstairs.

Melvin felt a flicker of surprise, but figured she was just expressing her displeasure in a new way. Fine by him. At least he wouldn't have to listen to her nagging in his ear all night.

Beth paused at the turn of the staircase. She could see Melvin sprawled across the couch below, no blanket, visibly uncomfortable.

She didn't hesitate. She went straight to the bedroom and closed the door.

Early the next morning, Beth took the signed divorce agreement to the courthouse. Once the thirty-day waiting period passed, her marriage to Melvin Henson would be officially over.

After leaving the courthouse, she went to the auction house.

A pair of ruby earrings was going up for bid today. They had been donated for charity by Beth's mother before she passed.

They were her mother's favorite pair. Beth remembered being small, perched on her mother's lap, watching her unclasp the earrings and place them in her tiny palm. The deep red had seemed to pulse against her skin, warm as a little flame.

Her mother had smiled and said, "When you grow up, sweetheart, these will be yours. On your wedding day, I'll put them on you myself."

Her eyes had been so bright when she said it, like they held every star in the sky.

Later, when the illness came, her mother lay in the hospital bed, wasted down to nothing but bone. She held Beth's hand and whispered, "Sweetheart, I donated those earrings. For a good cause. Please don't be upset with me."

Now her mother was gone, and those earrings were the only piece of her left. Beth was going to win them back no matter what.

The auction began. The auctioneer presented the ruby earrings and opened the bidding at five hundred thousand dollars.

After several rounds, Beth called out one million. The auctioneer's gavel was already rising when a familiar voice cut through from the entrance.

"One point two million!"

Beth turned. It was Melvin.

He wore a deep blue velvet suit, and beside him stood Jeanette Pruitt in a red dress. They strolled in together, every eye in the room following them.

Jeanette walked right up to Beth, contempt written across her face.

"Mrs. Henson, I'm so sorry. I'm accompanying Attorney Henson to a very important dinner tonight, one that could shape the next decade of his firm. These earrings happen to match my dress perfectly, so he's decided to bid on them for me. I'm sure you don't mind, do you?"

Beth stared at her, every muscle locked tight. "Those were my mother's. You don't deserve to touch them."

Jeanette covered her mouth and laughed. "Her belongings? How morbid! Attorney Henson, never mind then. They give me the creeps."

Melvin patted Jeanette's shoulder gently. "Don't worry. I'm here."

Then he turned to Beth, his tone breezy, almost bored.

"Beth, you're a jewelry designer, and your family has more money than God. You can have any piece you want. Jeanette happens to like these earrings. Just let her have them. It's such a small thing. Why make a scene?"

Something detonated inside Beth's chest. She clenched her jaw and raised her paddle. "Not a chance. One point five million."

Melvin looked at her. A flash of displeasure crossed his face. He raised his hand, and though his voice was quiet, it carried to every corner of the room. "I'm calling the sky on this lot. No ceiling."

The words hit Beth like a bolt of lightning. Her whole body trembled. She had never imagined Melvin would go this far for that woman.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Who is she? Why is Attorney Henson bidding against his own wife over her?"

"Apparently she's his new flame. She's been on his arm at every event lately."

"Well, well. Even the Cox heiress gets her turn."

Jeanette drank in every word, the corner of her lips curling upward. She accepted the earrings from the auctioneer, held them up to the light, and said loudly enough for the whole room to hear, "They're gorgeous. Thank you, Attorney Henson."

Then she moved to fasten one to her ear.

Beth snapped. She lunged forward and seized Jeanette's wrist, her voice tearing out of her throat. "Don't you dare put my mother's earrings on. You are not worthy!"

Jeanette let out a sharp cry of pain, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Her fingers went slack, and the earrings slipped free, hitting the marble floor with a small, bright crack. They shattered into pieces.

"No!"

Beth's scream tore through the auction hall, raw and guttural, and the entire room went silent.

She dropped to her knees, trying to piece the fragments back together. The jagged edges sliced into her fingers, blood streaming down and dripping onto the red gemstones until she couldn't tell which was blood and which was tears.

She couldn't feel the pain. She cradled the shattered pieces in her trembling hands.

Her mother's gentle face flickered before her eyes, over and over. Her mother wearing those earrings while watering flowers on the balcony. Her mother holding her on her lap, telling her stories.

Jeanette stood off to the side, clutching her wrist, her voice thin and teary: "Mr. Henson, look, my wrist is all red. It really hurts."

Melvin turned immediately, taking Jeanette's wrist in both hands, examining it with exaggerated care, his brow furrowed deep: "How is it this bad? Is it swelling? Someone call an ambulance!"

Beth rose slowly to her feet. She walked up to Jeanette, her voice hoarse but clear: "Jeanette Pruitt, get on your knees. Right now. Apologize to my mother."

Jeanette's face went white. She shrank back a step. "I... I didn't mean to break them."

"Didn't mean to?" Beth let out a cold laugh, her eyes rimmed red. "Do you have any idea what those earrings meant to me? You did it on purpose."

She seized Jeanette by the arm and forced her toward the ground. "I said apologize. Apologize to my mother!"

Jeanette was shaking all over, her knees inches from the floor, when a pair of hands caught her.

Melvin stepped forward and crouched down, shielding Jeanette behind him, pulling her into his arms. He looked up at Beth, his eyes ice-cold:

"Enough! Beth, can you be reasonable for once? I bought those earrings for Jeanette. They were hers. She broke her own property. What right do you have to demand an apology?"

"And you grabbed her first. You hurt her, and that's why she dropped them. When it comes down to it, you brought this on yourself. If you'd just let her wear them, none of this would have happened. You're the one who should be apologizing!"

Beth stood frozen. She was the one who should apologize?

Her mother's only keepsake, stolen from her, smashed to pieces, and wanting it back was her fault?

Jeanette's wrist didn't even have a mark on it, and he was ready to call an ambulance.

Her fingers were slick with blood, and he hadn't spared her a single glance.

"Melvin Henson." She spoke each word separately, each one a blade. "Say that again."

Melvin's frown deepened. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Jeanette did nothing wrong. You're the one who went too far. Look at yourself right now. You're acting like a lunatic. Where's the Cox family heiress in any of this?"

Beth stared at him, her chest heaving. Then, all at once, a cold smile settled on her face. "Fine. You say it's my fault."

She turned, picked up a glass of red wine from the table, and hurled it straight into Jeanette's face. Jeanette shrieked. The wine ran down her hair in dark rivulets, and in an instant she looked utterly wrecked.

Beth smashed the glass on the floor, shards scattering in every direction. "Then I don't mind making one more mistake."

Melvin's face went ashen. He grabbed Beth's wrist. "Have you lost your mind?"

Beth lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were full of tears, but not a single one fell. She wrenched her wrist free, turned, and walked out of the auction hall.

When she got home, Beth packed her things and moved into the guest room. After what had happened, she could no longer share a bed with Melvin Henson.

Melvin came knocking when he got back. She refused to open the door.

She stood on her side of it and said, "I have nothing to say to you. Leave."

Melvin was caught off guard. Lately her words had grown fewer and fewer. Before, she could talk his ear off for hours about nothing at all.

But after everything that had happened recently, she wouldn't give him a single extra sentence.

What was she doing? Learning to use silence as a weapon against him? Trying a new tactic to get his attention?

He was quiet for a moment, then kept his voice measured: "Fine. Keep this up if you want. But the Cox Group anniversary gala is tomorrow night. Make sure you're there on time."

The next evening, Beth arrived at the banquet hall with Melvin. Despite every fiber of her being resisting, she held a champagne flute and made the rounds with him, exchanging pleasantries with each guest as if nothing were wrong.

Jeanette was there too. Melvin had recommended her as the emcee, and she was up on stage now, adjusting the equipment.

Without warning, a ripple of commotion swept through the hall. Someone gasped. Whispers broke out. Every head turned the same direction.

Beth followed their gazes to the stage, where the massive LED screen had come to life with a video.

Her pupils contracted. The air locked in her throat. Her whole body began to shake so violently she nearly collapsed.

On the screen, she was strapped to a chair in a psychiatric ward, undergoing electroconvulsive therapy.

Electrodes on her forehead. Her mouth wrenched open. Her body seizing. Her eyes vacant and hollow, like something that had already stopped living.

She had suffered from bipolar disorder. The compulsive talking that people mocked had been mania all along: relentless highs she couldn't stop, relentless crashes she couldn't escape. Back then, Melvin hadn't recoiled. He had stayed. He had gone to every appointment with her.

But it was a memory soaked in agony, and even now, thinking of it made her skin crawl.

And at this moment, every guest in the room, every person of influence in Harbor City, was watching that footage. Some were stifling laughter. Some were whispering behind their hands. Some had their phones out, recording.

"The Cox heiress is mentally ill?"

"No wonder she never shuts up. Turns out it's a manic episode."

"Tsk. Poor Attorney Henson. Married a crazy woman."

The words hit Beth like a physical blow. The room tilted and spun.

Up on stage, Jeanette still held the remote in her hand. She pressed her other palm to her mouth, wide-eyed, the picture of innocence, as though she had no idea how this had happened. But at the corner of her lips, a smile she couldn't quite suppress flickered through.

Beth understood everything. A cold clarity settled over her. She charged up the stairs and ripped the power cable from the screen.

Then she turned, seized Jeanette's jaw in one hand, and forced her face up. "Jeanette Pruitt. Who gave you the nerve to do this?"

Jeanette's eyes streamed with tears under the grip, her body twisting, fighting to break free.

Melvin rushed the stage and shoved Beth back. "What are you doing? Let go of her!"

Beth stumbled backward. At that same instant, the lighting rig behind her caught on the power cable. Metal shrieked against metal, and the entire frame came crashing down toward them.