After filing the divorce papers, I went back to the hospital where I worked, went to HR and turned in my resignation.

I remembered when I started my internship here, Carl had gotten into a car accident caused by a business rival and was hospitalized with paralysis in both legs.

Back then, he was irritable and refused treatment. I stayed with him day and night, comforting him, helping him through rehab and watching him stand again.

When he chased after me, I turned him down because our social statuses were too different. He knelt and promised he would never betray me in this lifetime.

His sincerity back then made me let go of all my worries. Now, looking back, it feels painfully ironic.

My colleague stared at me in surprise. “Camelia, you were doing great. Why are you suddenly quitting?”

“Some places only make you feel worse the longer you stay,” I said calmly.

After packing my few things, I went to the elevator. The doors opened in the inpatient department—a twist of fate.

Carl stood at the door, holding Jocelyn, her wrist heavily bandaged. She looked pale and leaned weakly on him. Seeing me, Carl’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?” He instinctively pulled Jocelyn closer.

Jocelyn looked up, tears in her eyes, her voice trembling. “Camelia, I’m sorry. I know you hate me. I killed Auntie… but I didn’t mean to…”

She touched the bandages on her wrist. “You can hit me, scold me, I’ll take it… but please don’t blame Carl. He did it for me too.”

Watching her act, my stomach turned. Carl’s eyes went cold as he glared at me. “Camelia, Jocelyn already tried to atone by attempting suicide. What more do you want? Do you need her to die before you’re satisfied?”

Atonement? My mother was alive and my father is barely hanging on, yet she thinks hurting herself once can wipe everything away?

My heart felt frozen; hurting so much that I went numb. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I turned away and went to my father’s room. He was still unconscious, kept alive by the machines.

A little later, the door opened. Carl entered, arm in arm with Jocelyn. She held a phone showing a live stream. “Everyone, I know there have been many rumors about me,” Jocelyn said, tears in her voice. “I feel guilty. Even though Camelia misunderstands me, her father was hurt and hospitalized and I’m heartbroken too…”

As she spoke, she showed the camera my unconscious father in the hospital bed. “I heard Uncle Rowan caused a big scandal with perjury and now…”

“Shut up!” I jumped up and snatched her phone. “Get out!”

Jocelyn gasped, tears forming. “I was just telling the truth. Why did you hit me?”

I lifted my hand to slap her, but a strong grip held my wrist.

“Camelia! Haven’t you done enough?!” Carl yanked my hand away.

Surprised, I fell back, hitting my forehead hard on the hospital bed railing.

A sharp pain hit me and blood ran down my forehead. Carl saw it, looked shocked and instinctively reached out.

“Carl, my wrist hurts so much…” Jocelyn groaned, grabbing his arm tightly at just the right moment.

Carl froze, looked at Jocelyn’s bandaged wrist, then at me and finally bent down to lift her, leaving the ward without a glance back.

I collapsed to the floor, blood and tears mixing on my forehead. Only when the nurse rushed over to bandage me did I start to come out of my numb despair.

Wiping my tears, I took out my phone and called a number from Stellis. “Drake,” I said, my voice calm but desperate. “You said you’d grant me any request if I left Carl, right?”

I paused, then said clearly, “In one month, help me destroy Carl’s company.”

Drake was silent for a moment, then laughed softly. “Camelia, are you really ready to let go of the man you’ve loved for ten years?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, one month is enough to bring him down. But since you chose me this time, I won’t let him go again.”

After hanging up, I remembered Drake’s once caring and persistent face. He had said Carl couldn’t protect me.

At the time, I thought it was a joke, but now it felt real. Without delay, I took care of my father and dragged my tired body back to the villa.

I opened the door and was hit by a strong perfume smell. In the living room, the maid was hanging Jocelyn’s photo on the wall and my carefully chosen limited-edition handbag was carelessly left on the coffee table.

I opened the door and was hit by a strong perfume smell. In the living room, the maid was hanging Jocelyn’s photo on the wall and my carefully chosen limited-edition handbag was carelessly left on the coffee table.

The maids paused, looking at each other, unsure of what to say.

Carl came down the stairs with Jocelyn in my pajamas. “I asked them to move these. It’s not safe for Jocelyn outside,” he said. “I’m worried.”

So he was worried and she wanted to intrude, even take my bedroom? I looked at him, too tired to ask anything.

Jocelyn spoke shyly, “Camelia, I’ll just sleep in the guest room…”

“No need,” Carl cut her off, looking at me coldly. “The master bedroom is for Jocelyn. You’ll sleep in the guest room.”

Before I could speak, Jocelyn looked at me gently. “Camelia, I’m a little hungry. Carl said you cook well. Could you make me some noodles?”

Carl looked at me too, his eyes commanding. “Go now.”

A sharp, heavy pain hit my chest. My mother had just died, my father was in the ICU and my husband wanted me to cook noodles for the woman who killed my mother.

I forced a faint smile. “No!”

His face darkened. “Camelia, are you not listening to me?!”

I pulled my hand back slowly. “Carl, I’m your wife, not your servant.”

I didn’t want to stay another second. I went upstairs to grab some personal items, but when I opened the bedroom door, I almost froze.

When I came downstairs, I saw Jocelyn in the living room holding a photo frame; it was the last family photo of me with my parents.

“Who gave you permission to touch that!” I shouted as I ran down the stairs.

Seeing me, she seemed startled. Her hand slipped and the photo frame fell, shattering loudly.

“I’m sorry, Camelia! I didn’t mean to!” Jocelyn cried, crouching to pick up the pieces, but glass cut her finger and it started bleeding.

“Jocelyn!” Carl rushed forward and pulled her up. He checked her fingers anxiously, then looked up, his eyes full of rage.

“Camelia, you can’t even tolerate her? You threw things to scare her and even hurt her!”

“I threw them? Carl, are you blind?”

“Enough!” Carl cut me off, his eyes full of disappointment and disgust. “I saw everything clearly!”

He told the butler, who had run over at his voice, “Take her upstairs. She isn’t allowed out of the guest room without my permission. She needs to reflect on her actions!”

I watched him hold Jocelyn, comforting her, while she secretly gave me a cruel, victorious smile.

A wave of despair and hatred hit me. I didn’t resist as the servants led me out of the living room.

Carl, is this your idea of making it up to me for the rest of your life?

In the guest room, I took our photo out of the frame, ready to tear it up.

Just then, Carl opened the door, his voice showing a hint of annoyance. “Camelia, we need to talk.”

Before he finished, his eyes landed on the photo I was about to tear, suddenly cold. “What are you doing?!” He grabbed the photo.

I didn’t look up or respond, just kept tidying in silence. When he saw I ignored him, he slammed the photo on the table. “Jocelyn’s wrist injury has reopened and she’s emotionally unstable. Go comfort her with some kind words.”

I almost thought I heard wrong. I slowly lifted my head and looked at the man I had loved for ten years.

He wanted me to comfort the woman who caused my mother’s death and exposed his perjury scandal, leaving my father in the ICU?

A heavy ache pressed on my chest, but I forced a weak smile. “Impossible.”

His face darkened and his usual commanding tone returned. “Camelia, don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Carl,” I said calmly, as if stating a fact, “She’s your savior, not mine. I have no reason, or desire, to care about a murderer’s feelings.”

“You!” Anger flashed in his eyes, but he held it back and pulled a small brocade box from his pocket, giving it to me.

I recognized the box. Inside was a custom necklace with a pendant shaped like intertwined stars and a moon.

On our first anniversary, he put it on my finger, saying it symbolized our inseparable love. He said that wearing it meant he would always be by my side, protecting me.

I treasured it for ten years, never taking it off. After my mother’s accident, in despair, I tore it off and put it away.

“I’ve fixed the necklace,” he said, his tone soft but slightly condescending. “Go apologize to Jocelyn, say you’ll try to forgive her and I’ll act like nothing happened before.”

I looked at the necklace that once symbolized his love, now used to make me obey my enemy. I felt a deep mix of pain and absurdity.

I looked at him and smiled. I reached for the brocade box, my fingers icy cold.

Carl’s eyes showed a satisfied smile, thinking everything was back on track. But I didn’t wear the necklace. I took it and walked straight to the door.

Jocelyn leaned weakly against the doorframe, looking pitiful. In Carl’s shocked gaze, I put the brocade box in her hand. “You always wanted this necklace, right? It’s yours now,” I said flatly.

Jocelyn froze, staring at me in disbelief. Carl’s face tightened. He knew how much I treasured this necklace; ten years of gifts hadn’t replaced it.

He expected me to struggle or refuse, but he never thought I’d give away this “eternal love” so easily. Losing control made him furious.

“Camelia!” he snapped. “You always said this necklace was your most precious possession! Why did you give it away so easily?”

I lifted my head, met his gaze calmly and replied, “You asked me to give it to her. I did and now you’re upset?”