Thanks to Flora’s compulsive need to share everything, I saw her update on Instagram:

“The man I love—my knight in shining armor—has come to rescue me~~~”

Back then, I added her on a whim, never expecting she’d accept the request.

I could only let out a bitter smile.

Taking advantage of the moment, I contacted a lawyer to discuss divorce.

But the moment they heard the name William, not a single one was willing to take my case.

I knew why—they didn’t dare offend the Rutherford family. And if they feared them, they wouldn’t touch me.

I was once a top graduate from a prestigious university.

But after marrying William, everyone around me whispered in disbelief: How could the Rutherfords allow William to marry the daughter of a small company owner?

I knew how hard William had fought for our marriage.

Even now, the scars on his back still bear witness to the whippings he endured, all because he stubbornly insisted on marrying me.

The other branches of the Rutherford family were always circling like vultures, eyeing the business. William often worked through the night, trying to hold his ground.

He traveled constantly, flying in and out of the country, and once, he even collapsed from exhaustion—vomiting blood before fainting.

My heart ached for him, but I was powerless to help.

So I swallowed my pride, smoothed out my temper, and tried my best to become Mrs. Rutherford.

Day after day, I attended the social gatherings of the elite wives, trying to build connections, trying to gather useful information from their gossip.

Now that I need help, I don’t even know who I can turn to.

But given how deeply William adores Flora, I’m sure the divorce will go smoothly.

I went home and sorted through my belongings.

I packed a few frequently worn clothes and important documents. The rest, I left untouched.

Then I waited for William to come home.

Maybe it was because of the pregnancy, but I dozed off while waiting.

I didn’t wake until hunger gnawed at my stomach.

The room was pitch dark.

I was still disoriented when I heard the maid calling me for dinner.

After eating, I realized William still hadn’t returned.

I opened Flora’s Instagram again.

There it was—William, one hand pulling a suitcase, the other holding hers.

She was beaming.

“Off to have some fun!” she wrote cheerfully.

So he wouldn’t be back any time soon.

The next day, I went to the hospital and terminated the pregnancy.

The love was gone—there was no reason to carry William’s child any longer.

There would always be women lining up to bear his children, as long as he wanted them.

I signed the papers alone.

I went through the procedure alone.

And just like that, it was over.

By the time I had mostly recovered, they were due to return.

I put on my makeup carefully and drove out to meet them.

Thanks to Flora’s obsessive posting, I had their entire itinerary.

They went bungee jumping, saw the Northern Lights, even skydived.

Of course, everything feels different when you're with someone young.

He even seemed younger himself—doing things he never dared try before.

When William finally appeared, his face was expressionless.

Flora clung to his arm, chatting nonstop.

She walked with a spring in her step, her face lit up with a dazzling smile.

“William, let’s go again next time, okay? Maybe on your birthday? It’ll be our first time spending it together since we—”

“William!”

I raised my right hand and waved, calling out loudly.

Flora didn’t seem to hear me—she kept talking like I didn’t exist.

William paused, a subtle frown forming between his brows.

He instinctively pulled Flora behind him.

In that instant, I felt like I was some kind of monster.

But I was the one who should be afraid.

After all, just two weeks ago, he’d nearly strangled me for this woman.

I remember it vividly.

Flora, facing me, still looked flustered.

She shrank behind William like a frightened little ostrich.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

William’s tone was ice-cold, laced with venom.

I gave him a soft smile. “I came to pick you up.”

He stared at me, brows furrowed, clearly suspicious.

“What kind of stunt are you trying to pull now?”