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?”

My teasing made him pause. After speaking, I stopped looking at them and went back to my room.

***

Early the next morning, Carl opened the door again, his tone calm but still commanding, as if last night’s conflict never happened.

“Come downstairs and eat. Jocelyn is hurt, but she got up early to make seafood porridge for you to apologize and help you recover.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said coldly, turning my back to him.

“You have to go, even if you’re not hungry!” His tone hardened. “Jocelyn was kind to you. Are you going to embarrass her? Do you think our Wagner Family can’t handle this?”

He only cared about Jocelyn’s feelings and the family’s appearance. In the end, he forced me to go to the dining room.

I finally went downstairs. In the dining room, Jocelyn was already sitting at the head of the table—my usual seat.

Seeing me, Jocelyn smiled softly. “Camelia, you’re here? I heard you haven’t been eating much, so I made some fresh seafood porridge. Would you like to try it?”

The bowl of porridge was set before me, smelling strongly of shrimp and crab. Carl sat in the main seat and gestured to me. “Jocelyn worked all morning. Don’t waste her effort.”

I looked at the porridge but didn’t touch it. I’m severely allergic to seafood, something I told him early in our relationship.

Once, I accidentally ate a snack with shrimp powder and got a full-body rash. He took me to the hospital that night and stayed with me all night.

I clearly remembered how anxious he looked back then. Now, just a few years later, he seemed to have forgotten, or his focus had simply moved away from me.

“What?” Carl frowned when I didn’t move. “Jocelyn cooked it herself and you won’t even show her this little respect?”

Jocelyn immediately looked down, her voice upset. “Carl, don’t force Camelia. Maybe I didn’t cook well and she doesn’t like it…”

Carl’s face darkened, his eyes showing clear displeasure. “Camelia, don’t be so stubborn!”

Stubborn? Seeing his impatient face, my heart turned cold. I looked up at him, calm and emotionless. “I’ll drink it, but let me go see my dad at the hospital today.”

Carl instinctively wanted to refuse, frowning. Jocelyn had told him before that my dad needed complete rest and shouldn’t be visited.

But when my stubborn, empty gaze met his, he swallowed and finally said stiffly, “Okay, I’ll arrange it.”

After getting the promise, I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the porridge and forced myself to eat it.

Soon, my skin started itching and red rashes appeared. If Carl cared at all, he would have noticed.

But he was only focused on feeding Jocelyn. At that moment, the gap between love and indifference felt so cruel.

Back in the guest room, the allergy hit hard. Red rashes spread, itching badly and I struggled to breathe.

I knew I had to take medicine immediately, or it could get serious. I forced myself up to find my allergy medicine in the master bedroom.

I stumbled to the master bedroom and opened the door, only to see Jocelyn by the window holding the medicine.