In that split second, Melvin threw his arms around Jeanette and shoved Beth away with his free hand.

Beth slammed into the heavy metal rig. Sharp edges drove into her back and left arm, and pain tore through her entire body.

She heard her own bones break.

She hit the ground hard, the lighting rig pinning her down, and she couldn't move. Melvin already had Jeanette cradled against his chest, backing them both to safety.

Jeanette's ankle had barely grazed the edge of the rig, but her eyes were already brimming with tears. "Attorney Henson, my foot hurts so much. Do you think it might be broken?"

Melvin crouched down and cradled her foot in both hands, his face tight with worry. "Don't be scared. I'm here. Can you stand?"

Jeanette tried to put weight on it and sucked in a sharp breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It hurts so much..."

Without another word, Melvin scooped her up into his arms.

Beth lay in a spreading pool of her own blood, the rig crushing her back. Every breath was agony. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but all that left her throat was a faint, broken moan.

Melvin carried Jeanette two steps, then finally glanced back. His eyes held nothing but blame and disgust.

His voice came out cold enough to freeze:

"Beth, look at what you've done. If you hadn't lost your mind and charged up on stage, would any of this have happened? If Jeanette's foot is really injured, can you even begin to take responsibility for that?"

"I am so disappointed in you. A perfectly good anniversary gala, ruined. You've humiliated the entire Cox family tonight. If your father saw this, I can't imagine how furious he'd be. Can't you just be still for one single day? Do you have to drag everyone around you into your chaos?"

Beth wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him she'd gone up on stage because Jeanette had played that video to humiliate her, that she hadn't knocked the rig over.

She wanted to tell him, I'm in so much pain. I think my bones are broken. Can you please call me an ambulance.

But she couldn't get a single word out.

Her lips moved. Her throat felt sealed shut. All she could manage were thin, threadlike gasps.

Melvin stared down at her, unmoved, as though she were putting on an act. Jeanette clutched his collar and whispered, "Attorney Henson, doesn't Mrs. Henson look seriously hurt? Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"

"She got knocked around a little. She'll be fine," Melvin said. "You're the one we need to worry about. That foot can't wait."

He turned and walked away without a second of hesitation, Jeanette still in his arms.

Beth lay on the ground and watched his back grow smaller and smaller until it vanished through the ballroom doors.

People rushed over. Someone was dialing 911. Before consciousness slipped away, a memory surfaced from years ago.

She and Melvin had just gotten together. She'd been walking through the living room and bumped her shin on the coffee table. The bruise was tiny, no bigger than a fingernail.

Melvin's face had gone white. He crouched down and touched the bruise so gently, his brow knotted with worry. "How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?"

She told him it didn't. He picked her up anyway and carried her to the hospital. They took X-rays. The doctor said it was nothing, and only then did he relax even slightly.

Back home, he followed her everywhere, step for step. When she needed the bathroom, he carried her there and waited outside the door, knocking every ten seconds: "Beth, are you done yet? Let me carry you out."

She'd laughed. "I'm not an invalid."

He'd said, "When it comes to you, not even a scratch is acceptable."

Back then, she'd believed she was the luckiest woman alive. Now she lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood, and he had walked away carrying another woman without even calling her an ambulance.

She closed her eyes, and the darkness swallowed everything.

When she woke again, Beth was in a hospital bed, encased in plaster, pain radiating from everywhere at once.

Melvin sat in the chair beside her, holding her hand. He hadn't shaved. The skin beneath his eyes was bruised with exhaustion.

The moment he saw her open her eyes, he shot to his feet, relief flooding his face. "Beth, you're finally awake? You were unconscious for two days. You scared me half to death."

He gestured toward the bedside. "Beth, I got you all kinds of gifts. I wanted them to be the first thing you saw when you woke up, so you'd feel a little better."

Beth turned her head. The nightstand was buried under a pile of things.

The newest Chanel bag. She used to buy one every season, but he hadn't given her one in over a year.

A Tiffany diamond necklace, limited edition. She'd lingered on it for a moment in a magazine once.

A full set of her favorite high-end skincare, the limited-run collection, arranged in a neat row.

And a large bouquet of white lisianthus, the same flowers from their wedding.

There was something ingratiating in his voice:

"Beth, don't worry. I flew in that top orthopedic specialist from Paris. He arrived last night and reviewed your scans this morning. He said your surgery went well and your recovery should be smooth."

Beth looked at the gifts. Then she looked at Melvin.

The specialist, the gifts, the flowers. He was making amends. The same way he always did.

"Beth, I owe you an apology for what happened that day."

His voice was soft, coaxing. "I panicked. I was so worried about Jeanette's foot that I assumed you were fine, and I didn't get to you in time. Don't hold it against me, okay?"

Beth pulled her hand free.

Melvin sighed. "I already had someone look into it. The rig was tripped by a power cable. It wasn't your fault. And I was wrong to say those things in front of everyone. So we're even now, aren't we?"

A bitter laugh flickered through Beth's mind. Even?

Jeanette had broadcast that humiliating video in front of the entire crowd. Melvin had shoved her into a collapsing lighting rig to protect Jeanette, then left her half-dead on the floor. And now one sentence was supposed to make them even?

Beth closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at him. Everything hurt, and she didn't have the energy for a single word more.

Melvin took her silence for fatigue. He tucked the blanket around her. "Get some rest. I'll be right here."

The words had barely left his mouth when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and picked up immediately:

"Jeanette? What's wrong? Your foot's hurting again? What did the doctor say? Don't cry. I'm on my way."

He hung up and stood, pulling on his jacket:

"Beth, Jeanette says her foot is really hurting. I'm going to go check on her. I'll be back soon."

Beth didn't open her eyes. She didn't answer.

Melvin paused at the door and looked back at her. He seemed about to say something, but in the end said nothing, and left.

Beth lay alone in the empty hospital room, staring at the pile of expensive gifts and the white lisianthus on the nightstand.

She laughed. He actually thought she cared about any of this.

When had Beth Cox, heiress to the Cox Group, ever cared about things? What she'd cared about, the only thing she'd ever cared about, was him.

Did he really believe it was still the same as before? That a few sweet words and some gifts could make her smile through her tears and forgive him?

Not anymore. The moment the divorce was finalized and her visa came through, she would disappear from his life without a backward glance.

She reached out, pulled the lisianthus from the vase, and dropped them into the trash.

The gifts she gave away to the nurses looking after her, every last one.

The nurses crowded together, buzzing with delight:

"Mrs. Henson, Mr. Henson spoils you rotten! Look at all the things he got you!"

"Mrs. Henson is so lucky. I wish I had a husband that good!"

Beth smiled, a thin, self-mocking curve. A good husband. The words landed in her ears now as nothing more than a cruel joke.

The day she was discharged, Melvin didn't come. Beth called a car herself. As it neared the gated community, she looked up at the sky full of stars and decided to get out and walk.

She strolled alone down the tree-lined path, letting the cool night breeze wash over her, and for the first time in a while, something in her chest loosened.

Then she heard someone behind her. Before she could turn, a needle pierced the side of her neck, and something ice-cold flooded into her veins.

A man's voice cackled behind her. "Finally. Payback time."

When Beth woke, the back of her skull throbbed like it was splitting apart.

She was lying on the ground, hands bound behind her, the restraints biting into her wrists. A few yards away, Jeanette was tied up too, duct tape over her mouth, eyes rimmed red, muffled whimpers spilling out nonstop.

A bald man with a knife scar across his face stood in the center of the room. Melvin was at the door, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot.

The man held a knife, staring at Melvin with something unhinged in his gaze:

"Melvin Henson! You put me away for five years. My wife left. My mother died, and I never got to see her one last time! Today, I'm going to show you what it feels like to wish you were dead!"

Melvin raised his hands, voice hoarse and thin: "Whatever you want, take it out on me! Let them go!"

The man laughed, wild and unrestrained:

"Attorney Henson, one of these women is your wife, the other's your little sweetheart. You only get to take one. Don't say I didn't give you a chance! Whoever you pick walks out alive. The other one? I'll make her wish she'd never been born. That's what you owe me!"

Melvin's face went white. His fists clenched at his sides.

Beth watched him. She saw his eyes dart between her and Jeanette, back and forth, back and forth. His lips trembled. His throat worked. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

She waited. She told herself he would choose her.

They were husband and wife. She was the woman he'd married before God and everyone. She'd fought her own family for him, helped him build his firm from nothing, stood beside him through every lean year until they reached this point. He had to remember that.

Beside her, tears streamed down Jeanette's face. She shook her head frantically, choking out garbled sobs through the tape:

"Mr. Henson, I don't want to die! I still want to stand by your side and fight for justice for all those victims!"

Melvin flinched. He turned to Jeanette, and his eyes filled with something that looked like anguish.

He closed his eyes. The words scraped out of his throat: "I choose Jeanette."

Those three words were three knives, each one driving into Beth's chest, one after another, until she couldn't breathe.

Her ears rang. Her mind went blank. She thought she would scream, thought she would cry, but nothing came.

She just looked at him. Like she was looking at a stranger.

No. A stranger wouldn't have been able to hurt her like this.

Melvin's voice grew more urgent, as if he were trying to convince her, or maybe trying to convince himself:

"Beth, I'm sorry. Jeanette is a rising star in the legal world. You can't imagine her talent. The cases she'll take on, the people she'll help, there are so many. If she lives, she can put more monsters like this behind bars! You don't want these criminals walking free either, right?"

"Beth, you're the Cox family heiress. You have money, resources. Even if you get hurt today, you'll be fine. But Jeanette is different. She has nothing. All she has is me. I can't just abandon her!"

Beth listened to every word. A bleak smile spread across her face.

She bit down on her lower lip, hard, until she tasted blood, just to keep herself from falling apart completely.

Jeanette's ropes were cut. She threw herself into Melvin's arms, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

He held Jeanette and walked toward the exit. When he passed Beth, he stopped.

"Beth, I'll come back for you. I promise. Just hold on."

Beth looked into his eyes. There was guilt in them, and reluctance, but not a shred of hesitation.

The heavy iron door of the warehouse slammed shut.

The bald man crouched down in front of Beth, a sickening grin on his face:

"Mrs. Henson, your husband picked her. How does it feel to be thrown away? The lawfully wedded wife, and you still lost to some little assistant. Looks like your husband thinks of you as garbage, tossed out without a second thought!"

Beth closed her eyes. She said nothing.

The man kicked her square in the chest. Her body flew backward, her spine slamming into the wall. The fractures from before tore open like fresh wounds, and the pain turned her vision black.

He walked over, knife in hand, and pried her right pinky finger open:

"Five years in that hellhole, they broke two of my fingers. I'm only taking one of yours. Count yourself lucky, and tell that bastard Henson he got off easy!"

The knife came down.

Beth felt the blade bite into skin, slice through muscle, scrape against bone. The agony ground through her inch by inch. Her body convulsed. Tears and sweat ran together down her face, and a raw, ragged scream tore from her throat.

Before she blacked out, only one thought crossed her mind.

Back in design school, her professor had told her that the right pinky was what steadied your grip on the pen. Without it, your lines would shake. Your stone settings would be crooked.

Did this mean she would never be a designer again?

In the darkness of despair and pain, her consciousness slipped under.

When she woke again, Beth found herself in a VIP suite at a private hospital.

The man sitting at her bedside was the last person she expected: her father, who had been managing the family business in Australia all this time.

The moment he saw her eyes open, Irvin Cox's face crumpled with heartache:

"Beth, why didn't you tell me you'd been suffering like this? Your finger's been reattached. It's going to be okay, sweetheart. Someone dared to do this to my daughter. I will make sure they pay for every last bit of it."

Her father stroked her hair gently. She had so much she wanted to tell him, so many grievances bottled up inside, but the pain and exhaustion pulled her under, and before she knew it, she had drifted off again.

Early the next morning, Beth was jolted awake by a door slamming open.

Melvin stormed in, face twisted with rage, and hurled a stack of documents onto her hospital bed:

"Beth Cox, you vicious woman! Is using your family's power to crush people the only thing you know how to do?!"

Beth stared at Melvin. "What did you just say?"

His voice exploded through the hospital room, raw with fury:

"Drop the act! Your father pressured the Bar Association into filing a professional misconduct complaint against Jeanette. They're holding a disciplinary hearing, and she could lose her license! Is that what you wanted? Are you happy now?"

He grabbed Beth by the arm and dragged her out.

The hearing was held in a conference room. Three investigators sat behind a long table, and both sides of the gallery were packed with lawyers and spectators.

Jeanette sat in the respondent's chair, face pale, tears clinging to her lashes, yet a thread of stubborn defiance in her voice:

"I truly had no idea that USB drive contained a video from a psychiatric hospital. Someone set me up! I have no grudge against Mrs. Henson. Why would I ever do something like that?"

One of the investigators pressed a button on the projector. Surveillance footage filled the screen: on the day of the anniversary gala, Jeanette stood at the control console, pulled a USB drive from her own purse, and plugged it into the media player.

Jeanette's mouth fell open. Not a single word came out.

Murmurs rippled through the gallery:

"So she really did it on purpose! That's disgusting!"

"She wanted to destroy Mrs. Henson's reputation. A lawyer who breaks the law on purpose doesn't deserve to practice!"

A middle-aged woman shot to her feet and pointed straight at Jeanette:

"You have the nerve to cry? Mrs. Henson was humiliated in front of hundreds of people because of you, and you're still playing innocent!"

Another voice followed: "Morally unfit to practice! Revoke her license!"

Jeanette hugged herself, trembling head to toe, tears streaming faster than before.

Beth stood in the doorway, watching it all. There was no satisfaction in her chest, no pity either. The whole scene felt like a circus that would never end, and she was bone-tired of it.

A water bottle sailed from the gallery and struck Jeanette's shoulder. She screamed, threw her arms over her head, and crouched down.

A binder followed. Then a notebook, pens, a drinking glass. Security rushed forward but couldn't contain the crowd's fury.

"Enough!"

A firm male voice cut through the chaos. Melvin charged up to the front in full view of everyone.

He pulled Jeanette behind him and spread his arms wide, shielding her. A glass tumbler caught him square on the forehead with a sharp crack. The glass shattered. Blood ran down from his brow, tracing a line past his eye.

He didn't flinch. He didn't wipe it away. He faced the room and spoke, his voice ringing out like a closing argument in court:

"That USB drive was mine! She had no idea what was on it! All responsibility falls on me!"

The room went dead silent.

Behind him, Jeanette clutched the hem of his jacket, shaking her head through her tears. "Attorney Henson, don't... You can't take the blame for me."

Melvin didn't turn around. He simply reached back and kept her shielded, his voice softening: "Jeanette, listen to me. Your talent shouldn't be destroyed by something like this. You're the future of the legal profession, and I have to protect you."

He turned back to the room, and his voice rang like steel:

"Jeanette Pruitt is the most gifted young attorney I have ever seen! Her litigation skills, her legal acumen, her commitment to justice surpass anyone her age! If we let a baseless accusation destroy her career today, it will be a loss for the entire profession!"

Blood still trickled down his forehead, but his back was ramrod straight, his eyes blazing with the conviction of a man defending a sacred cause:

"If someone has to face disciplinary action, discipline me! If someone has to pay the price, revoke my license! I will bear every consequence for Jeanette, because she is worth it!"

Jeanette lifted her head and gently took his hand.

Beth watched the scene before her, her gaze ice-cold.

The two of them stood side by side on that stage like comrades facing a common enemy, like lovers bound by life and death.

Her hands began to tremble. She wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, how utterly, impossibly absurd.

She remembered Melvin's first time in court, visibly nervous, and how she'd sat in the gallery and given him a thumbs-up. He'd taken a deep breath, straightened his spine, and won the case.

She remembered when he wanted to open his own firm but had no connections and no capital. She'd gone on a hunger strike against her own family to secure the Cox Group's backing. On opening day, he'd held her hand and said, "Beth, I will never let you down. Not in this lifetime."

She remembered the night he won the Elite Attorney Award. He'd looked straight at her from the stage and said, "I want to thank my wife, Beth Cox. Without her, I wouldn't be standing here today."

Now he stood on a different stage, bleeding for another woman, swearing oaths for another woman, gambling everything he treasured without a second's hesitation.

He said she was worth it. Then what about Beth Cox?

She had spent years by his side, loving him with everything she had, giving up her own career, helping him climb from a nobody to the youngest elite attorney in Harbor City.

What was she worth? Nothing. She was worth nothing.

Beth let out a cold laugh, loud enough to turn every head in the room. She walked straight up to Melvin, contempt etched across her face, and spoke one deliberate word at a time:

"Since Attorney Henson feels so strongly, the Cox Group is pulling every cent of its investment from his firm. Effective immediately. Your little firm? Shut. Down."

"Melvin, the building your firm sits in belongs to the Cox Group. The capital belongs to the Cox Group. Even your earliest clients came through Cox family connections. Without the Cox family, you are nothing. Who exactly do you think you are? What do you have left to protect her with?"

She turned to Jeanette. "And you. Get out of the firm. Now. And I promise you, not a single firm in Harbor City will ever take you in."

Melvin's face flushed crimson, his lips trembling. Jeanette went white, her fingers digging into his hand.

The room was silent as a grave.

Then Jeanette pulled out her phone, faced the crowd, and spoke:

"Everyone, I have a piece of evidence. I didn't want to use it, but today, I'm going to show all of you exactly what kind of person Beth Cox really is!"