“I don't care whether it's your anniversary, a business meeting, or anything else,” Luca said, his voice gentler this time. “When you're in this condition, nothing comes before you. Let's get out for a while. Some fresh air will do you good.”

“Really?” Celeste exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement. “You're letting me leave? You're serious?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

“Have I ever made promises I didn't keep?” he replied. “Go get ready. We're leaving.”

A few moments later, I heard the unmistakable roar of helicopter blades.

Loud.

Familiar.

Taking her away...

Once again.

...

Four years earlier, after Celeste had taken my right hand, the pain had been so unbearable that even breathing felt impossible. Through it all, Luca never left my side. He barely slept, forgot to eat, and refused to leave my hospital room, as if looking away for even a second might cause me to fall apart.

One evening, he suddenly lifted me out of bed and carried me straight to his helicopter.

I was so weak that I could barely hold onto him, but his arms only tightened around me.

When we were high above the city, he gently turned my face toward the window.

"Look down," he said quietly. "See the buildings? From up here, they don't seem so big anymore, do they?"

I gave a weak nod, my vision blurred by tears.

Resting his forehead against mine, he spoke with a tenderness I had never forgotten.

"That's what life's like, Camille. Problems always look enormous when you're standing beneath them. But once you rise above them, they become smaller than you ever imagined."

He squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"And you won't face any of it alone. I'm here. No matter what happens, I'll help you through it. I promise."

Back then...

I believed every single word.

Now I knew better.

The nightmare I'd survived...

The suffering that almost destroyed me...

It all began because of him.

...

The fading sound of rotor blades pulled me back to the present.

I looked toward the neighboring property.

For a moment, I wondered if exhaustion was making me imagine things.

It wasn't.

The helicopter had landed next door.

Another mansion stood there.

An exact copy of mine.

A painful knot tightened in my chest.

The ring resting in my palm vibrated softly before Luca's voice came through.

"Celeste," he said, his tone warm in a way I hadn't heard directed at me in years, "you've spent too long confined to that villa. So I prepared something else."

There was a brief pause.

"This house belongs to you now."

"My anniversary gift."

I forgot how to breathe.

"And today..." he continued, "I'm staying here with you."

Celeste laughed with pure happiness.

It sounded like someone who had just been given everything she'd ever wanted.

At that exact moment, my phone lit up.

Camille, I've got a meeting with an important client. I'll be home tomorrow night instead. Don't wait up. Go enjoy yourself. If you need anything, call your husband. Love you.

My grip tightened around the phone.

A single tear landed on the screen, blurring the word husband until I could barely read it.

He had recreated the same life twice.

Two grand homes.

Two anniversaries.

Two wives.

The same promises.

The same affection.

But there was only one woman he truly chose.

It wasn't me.

Separated by nothing more than a single wall, he was spending his evening with the woman who legally carried his name.

And me?

I felt like the hidden one.

The secret.

Someone tucked away where no one else could see.

A mistress disguised as a wife.

The ache in my chest remained.

But the tears never came.

There wasn't much time left anyway.

I wiped my face, turned my back on the mansion, and went home.

Instead of dwelling on everything I'd lost, I buried myself in work.

I picked up my surgical instruments.

Both hands still felt stiff, but years of rehabilitation had finally made them steady enough.

I'd only cleared the first stage of the competition.

If I wanted to make it to the end...

I needed to become even better.

Faster.

Sharper.

Better than everyone else.

Maybe heartbreak had stripped away every distraction.

Every decision came effortlessly.

Each movement felt precise.

It was as though pain had carved away hesitation, leaving behind nothing but instinct.

Hours later, I finished outlining the first surgical procedure.

Leaning back in my chair, I stared quietly at my work.

My fingers accidentally brushed the ring resting on the steel tray.

Click.

The hidden receiver activated.

"I know one day together isn't enough..." Celeste's voice drifted through softly. "After today, I'll have to go back into hiding again... won't I?"

Every muscle in my body froze.

"I understand," she continued, her voice trembling. "Miss Hart can never find out about me. I know I don't deserve anything else."

She laughed weakly.

"But sometimes... I wish I could stand beside you the way she does."

Her voice broke.

"Just once... I'd like everyone to know I'm your wife."

Silence filled the room.

My breathing caught.

My arm began trembling uncontrollably.

It felt exactly like that day.

The flash of steel.

The sickening pain.

My hand being severed.

The agony returned all at once.

Phantom pain.

Real pain.

It hurt.

God...

Why did it still hurt so much?

Luca knew exactly what she'd done to me.

That's why he'd hidden her away.

Because he knew seeing her would destroy me all over again.

He would never allow that...

Would he?

The silence stretched on.

Then he finally answered.

"Alright."

Just one word.

Nothing more.

It was enough.

Something inside me shattered beyond repair.

I pressed a hand against my chest, struggling to breathe through the crushing pain.

...

The following day, Luca returned home as though nothing unusual had happened.

Perfectly on schedule.

The perfect husband.

He walked in carrying expensive gift boxes, smiling as if yesterday had never existed.

Inside one was a sapphire necklace whose brilliance rivaled the sea.

The other contained a custom-made evening gown covered in shimmering diamonds.

"Camille," he said warmly, "it's our seventh anniversary."

His eyes softened.

"I want everyone tonight to see how happy we are."

Happy.

The word felt hollow.

I said nothing.

I quietly changed into the gown.

Allowed him to clasp the necklace around my neck.

Allowed him to admire me as though I were priceless.

Then I slipped my hand into his, letting him lead me outside.

The anniversary banquet was held at one of his seven-star hotels.

Naturally.

Every inch of it belonged to him.

The ballroom glittered beneath crystal chandeliers.

Celebrities mingled with business tycoons, mafia leaders, politicians, and the wealthiest families in the country.

Everything looked flawless.

Yet something immediately caught my attention.

Every waiter wore an identical uniform.

Every face was concealed behind a mask.

Luca barely spared them a glance before turning toward me.

"Tonight belongs to you," he said calmly. "No one's taking attention away from you. The staff are only background. Masks keep it that way."

A sinking feeling settled inside me.

Deep down...

I already understood.

Guests soon surrounded us.

"Mr. Devereaux still worships his wife."

"Mrs. Devereaux really is blessed."

"I heard he bought her a five-billion-dollar estate."

"Every anniversary, his gifts become even more extravagant."

"And so does his love."

Love.

The word made me nauseous.

Then—

Riiip.

The sharp sound of fabric tearing echoed across the ballroom.

A waitress had stumbled.

Her uniform had ripped high along her thigh.

Flustered, she hurried to cover herself.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Nobody moved.

Nobody dared.

Fear swept through the room.

Everyone knew Luca had no patience for mistakes.

Especially not tonight.

Judging by the terrified expressions around us, they all expected the poor woman to be punished.

Luca's voice cut through the silence.

"Come with me."

The ballroom seemed to freeze.

Then he turned back to me.

His expression softened instantly.

"Camille," he said gently, brushing his fingertips across my arm, "rules exist for a reason. Sometimes people have to learn that lesson."

He smiled reassuringly.

"I'll deal with this and be right back."

Without thinking, I nodded.

He grabbed the waitress by the wrist and led her away.

Something inside me twisted.

Something wasn't right.

Several minutes passed.

Then...

I found myself following them.

I didn't know why.

Maybe part of me already knew exactly what I was going to find.

Upstairs, the conference room door hadn't fully closed.

I eased it open just enough to look inside.

The world stopped.

The waitress was sitting on top of the conference table.

Her legs were wrapped around Luca's waist.

Her mask was gone.

It was Celeste.

Of course it was.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She looked so delicate, so helpless... as though she were the one who had been wronged.

A crushing weight settled in my chest.

So this was the truth.

This entire evening had never been meant for me.

It had always been for her.

"Sweetheart..." Celeste's voice quivered. "I'm sorry. I should've been satisfied just getting to leave the villa. But when I saw you with her... the way you looked at her, the way you treated her..." She lowered her head. "It hurt more than I expected. I couldn't breathe. I lost my footing. I embarrassed you." Her eyes searched his face anxiously. "Did I ruin your anniversary with Miss Hart?"

Luca answered without the slightest hesitation.

"No."

His fingers gently brushed away the tears on her face.

"I'm only worried about you. You don't look well." His voice softened. "I'll have someone drive you back and call in the best specialist. You need to rest."

"I don't want anyone else." She wrapped her arms around him more tightly. "No doctor can help me. You're the only one who can make me feel better." Her voice dropped to a plea. "Please... don't send me away."

Something dark flickered behind Luca's eyes.

"Is that so?" he murmured. "You really think I'm all the medicine you need?"

A faint smile tugged at Celeste's lips.

"Find out."

He let out a quiet laugh before pulling her closer and kissing her.

The air caught in my lungs.

I couldn't move.

Everything in front of me felt horribly unreal.

When he finally drew back, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Feeling any better?"

"A little," she whispered. "But not enough."

Her fingers slowly traced across his chest.

"I think I need a little more."

Luca released a low groan, tightening his hold around her waist.

"Damn," he muttered. "Is this because you're sick..."

He looked into her eyes.

"...or are you trying to torture me on purpose?"

She smiled against his ear.

"Maybe both."

The next instant, whatever restraint he'd been holding onto disappeared.

He pushed her gently back against the conference table.

I flinched.

The room blurred.

A memory crashed into me.

Four years ago.

The same woman had stood naked on Luca's office desk, desperately begging him.

"Please... just once..."

Back then, he'd never even looked at her.

"Get this filth out of my office."

Then he'd wrapped an arm around me, covering my eyes.

"Don't look," he'd whispered. "It's disgusting."

He'd kissed my forehead.

"The only woman I'll ever touch is you."

I had believed him.

With everything I had.

Now...

He was touching Celeste with a tenderness I'd once thought belonged only to me.

There was no disgust in his eyes.

Only affection.

I couldn't bear another second.

Turning away, I stumbled out of the room, my knees trembling so violently that I nearly collapsed.

...

By the time Luca returned downstairs, he acted as though nothing had happened.

As though he hadn't shattered my heart only minutes earlier.

He walked straight toward me carrying a gift box.

"Camille."

A small smile crossed his face as he placed it into my hands.

"This hotel belongs to you now."

I stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"The ownership documents are inside." He spoke as casually as if he were talking about the weather. "I figured tonight deserved a memorable gift."

A hotel worth billions.

Given away without a second thought.

Around us, people quietly gasped.

Their eyes filled with envy.

To them, I was the luckiest woman alive.

None of them knew the truth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Celeste.

She descended the staircase wearing the waitress uniform again, her face hidden behind the same mask.

No one recognized her.

I did.

Even without seeing her expression, I could tell she wasn't pleased.

Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

...

A little while later, Celeste returned to serving guests as though nothing unusual had happened.

She carefully arranged champagne glasses into a towering display, stretching onto her tiptoes to place the top row.

Everything seemed perfectly ordinary.

Until it wasn't.

Suddenly, she slipped.

At least...

It looked that way.

Her ankle twisted awkwardly.

She grabbed at the tablecloth for balance.

The entire champagne tower collapsed.

Glass exploded across the ballroom with a deafening crash.

Fragments scattered in every direction.

Gasps echoed throughout the room.

Luca reacted instantly.

He ran.

Not toward me.

Toward Celeste.

Without hesitation, he pulled her against his chest, shielding her completely with his own body as though she were the only person who mattered.

I'd already stepped away from most of the falling glass.

Then Luca collided with me.

Hard.

The impact threw me backward.

I hit the floor headfirst.

For a moment, everything went white.

Then warmth trickled down my temple.

Blood.

Sharp shards bit into my skin.

One cut.

Then another.

Each one burned like fire.

Pain spread through my entire body until I couldn't even find the strength to scream.

The room faded in and out of focus.

Strangely...

I smiled.

Now I understood.

I'd spent years convincing myself he loved both of us.

Maybe not equally...

But enough.

I was wrong.

When the moment came to choose...

He already had.

...

When I opened my eyes again, harsh hospital lights greeted me.

My head pounded.

"Camille..."

Luca sat beside the bed, his expression heavy with guilt.

"I was trying to protect you."

He lowered his gaze.

"I panicked. I grabbed the wrong person."

The wrong person.

He repeatedly kissed my hand as though that simple gesture could erase what had happened.

As though affection could undo betrayal.

I felt nothing.

Looking straight at him, I asked quietly,

"What happened to the waitress?"

I knew perfectly well her fall hadn't been accidental.

Luca hesitated only briefly.

"She was careless."

His voice remained indifferent.

"I've already had her blacklisted. No hotel will hire her again."

I blinked.

Then I laughed.

Again.

It hurt.

Every laugh felt like another crack spreading through my chest.

Celeste wasn't even a waitress.

How was that supposed to be punishment?

It was like forbidding a fish from flying.

Meaningless.

Completely absurd.

Luca mistook my laughter for relief.

His shoulders relaxed.

Thinking everything was fine again, he stayed beside me for the rest of the day.

He personally checked my IV.

Adjusted the drip.

Changed my bandages himself with gentle, practiced hands.

Later, he peeled a lychee and held it toward me.

"Here."

I quietly ate it.

Without saying a word, he extended his hand afterward, waiting for me to spit the seed into his palm like I'd done countless times before.

Passing nurses glanced at us with obvious envy.

If only they knew.

Then his phone rang.

That familiar ringtone.

He froze.

Only for a heartbeat.

Then he stood.

"I need to stop by the company," he said calmly. "I'll be back soon. Don't wait for me."

I simply nodded.

What else was there to say?

The moment he disappeared from sight, I activated the receiver hidden inside the ring.

Only then did I understand.

Celeste was staying in the same hospital.

But unlike me...

She wasn't injured.

She'd suffered nothing more than a tiny scratch.

It had already healed.

Instead of tending to wounds...

Luca was with her.

"Don't move."

His voice drifted through the receiver, lower than before.

"You'll only make things harder."

I froze.

I didn't want to hear another word.

Didn't want to imagine what was happening.

Yet somehow...

I couldn't bring myself to turn it off.

"Sweetheart..." Celeste whispered, her voice fragile. "If you keep locking me away, I'm going to lose my mind."

She drew a shaky breath.

"I can't stay in that villa forever. Every day feels like I'm suffocating."

Her voice cracked.

"Please... don't send me back."

"I want to go outside."

"I want people to see me."

"I want to stand beside you..."

She hesitated.

"...even if she's there."

My fingers tightened painfully around the ring.

"I want to be close to you..."

Her voice grew even quieter.

"...even in front of her."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I couldn't listen anymore.

"Be careful what you're asking for."

Luca's voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

The sounds that followed told me everything I needed to know.

I reached down and switched the receiver off.

My hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Inside my chest...

There was nothing left.

When everything finally fell silent, I remembered the last thing Luca had said.

"Okay."

Three days later, I was discharged from the hospital.

Luca refused to let me walk even after I was discharged. He carried me from the hospital to the car, then all the way into the villa before carefully lowering me onto the sofa as though I might break if he handled me too roughly.

"You're still healing," he said gently. "Don't push yourself yet. I don't want you wearing yourself out."

His voice was filled with warmth.

With concern.

With the kind of tenderness that would have fooled anyone.

Then I saw Celeste.

She stood quietly among the servants, dressed in a maid's uniform as though she had always belonged in this house.

My chest tightened painfully.

I looked at Luca, struggling to process what I was seeing.

Celeste had begged him to let her leave the villa.

This...

This was his answer?

He had brought her here.

"Camille, listen to me." Luca drew me into his arms again, holding me close as though he feared I might disappear. Although his voice remained gentle, there was unmistakable determination beneath it. "If she'd been sent to prison back then, she would've finished her sentence by now. Four years isn't enough for what she did."

He lifted my chin until I met his eyes.

"So I brought her here instead. From now on, she'll serve you every day. Let her spend the rest of her time making amends."

My stomach twisted.

He genuinely believed this made sense.

"I even consulted a psychologist," he continued. "You've been carrying too much emotional weight lately. They said confronting the source of your trauma instead of avoiding it might actually help you recover."

His thumb brushed lightly across my cheek.

"Trust me, Camille. Everything I'm doing... I'm doing because I love you."

Love.

The word slipped from his lips so naturally.

What hurt most was that he looked completely sincere.

It was the same expression he had worn seven years ago when he knelt before me and vowed that I would never suffer again.

Now he was the one tearing me apart.

Day after day.

What he was doing felt no different than rubbing salt into a wound that had never healed.

I thought I would lose control.

I thought I'd scream at him.

Tell him to get Celeste out of my house.

Fight him.

Instead...

I felt nothing.

It was as though every emotion had already been drained from me.

"Alright," I answered quietly. "I'll do things your way."

At that point, it wouldn't have mattered if he had made Celeste the mistress of the villa.

I was leaving soon anyway.

None of this would be my problem much longer.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Celeste played her role perfectly, quietly cleaning the house, serving meals, and keeping her head lowered whenever anyone looked her way. Luca barely acknowledged her existence. He spent the entire day beside me, behaving as though she weren't even in the room.

That evening, he handed me a glass of warm milk.

"Drink this before bed," he said with a gentle smile. "It'll help you sleep, and your body still needs the rest."

I accepted it without argument.

The moment he turned his back, I quietly emptied the glass into the sink.

Something about it made me uneasy.

When I returned, I pretended I had finished every drop.

Later that night, I lay motionless beneath the blankets with my eyes closed, keeping my breathing slow and steady while I waited.

Just as I'd expected, Luca leaned over and kissed my forehead.

"Sleep well," he whispered.

A moment later, he quietly left the room, and the bedroom door clicked softly shut behind him.

Only a few seconds passed before I heard another voice.

"Honey..." Celeste sounded nervous, though excitement lingered beneath her words. "Are you sure this is alright? Doing this while she's here?"

Luca laughed under his breath.

"You're thinking too much," he replied. "Have I ever broken a promise I made to you?"

My eyelashes fluttered.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

Through the glass doors leading to the terrace, I could see them clearly.

They were only a few steps away.

Luca had Celeste pressed gently against the wall, his body close to hers as he lowered his head to kiss her with slow, patient affection, as though time itself had stopped.

It was as if I had disappeared.

My fingers curled tightly into my palms until my nails dug into my skin.

The pain was still there.

But it wasn't as unbearable as it had been before.

Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped believing he deserved my tears.

The following morning, Luca left early for the office while I stayed in my room, focusing on my medical designs. I had no desire to cross paths with Celeste, so the maids simply brought my meals upstairs. Breakfast came and went. Then lunch. The house remained quiet, and for several peaceful hours I was left alone.

That peace lasted until evening.

A knock sounded at my bedroom door.

When I opened it, Celeste was standing there holding a serving tray.

Her posture was perfectly straight, her chin slightly raised, and there was something ugly hidden behind the smile in her eyes.

"Camille," she greeted pleasantly. "I saw you outside the conference room that day."

My fingers tightened around the doorknob.

"I never imagined someone like you would end up this pathetic," she continued with a faint smile. "You used to be so proud. Then you lost one hand... and gave up everything you'd worked for. Tell me, how does it feel living like this?"

Disgust rolled through my stomach.

She stepped closer.

"But I suppose you didn't have much of a choice," she said almost sympathetically. "You're useless now. You can't stand on your own anymore. Without Luca, you wouldn't survive, so naturally you don't have the courage to fight for him."

Looking at her made my skin crawl.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" I asked evenly.

Her smile widened.

"I'm saying that no matter how long you hide behind your pride, you'll never keep him." She looked directly into my eyes. "Little by little, I'll take your place until there's nowhere left for you to stand."

Then she smiled with quiet satisfaction.

"Luca is mine."

My hand instinctively curled into a fist.

For a split second, I wanted to slap her across the face.

Instead, I forced myself to relax.

She wasn't worth dirtying my hands over.

There were far better ways to win.

I took a step backward, intending to shut the door.

Then I heard approaching footsteps.

The moment Celeste heard them, her entire expression transformed. The smug smile vanished instantly, replaced by wide, tear-filled eyes. Without warning, she threw herself backward. The serving tray flew from her hands, sending rice and soup splashing across her uniform.

She lifted her already reddened hand, allowing it to tremble dramatically.

"Miss Hart..." she whispered through tears. "I know you're still angry with me. If pushing me made you feel better... then I'll accept it."

Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"If you want to do it again... I won't complain."

Revulsion washed over me.

"I never touched you," I replied calmly. "You staged this yourself."

She cried even harder.

"If saying that helps you..." she sniffled, "...then I'll tell everyone I simply fell."

Luca was standing behind her.

For the briefest moment, I saw genuine pain flash across his face.

Not because of me.

Because of her.

My stomach sank.

A shadow crossed his expression before he looked at me, almost forcing himself to believe my innocence.

"Camille," he said slowly, "I trust you."

He turned toward Celeste.

"If the two of you can't live under the same roof, then she'll leave."

Celeste stared at him in disbelief.

"...What?"

Luca's voice turned ice-cold.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Pack your things."

"You're leaving."

She bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

"O-Okay..."

"I'll go."

"Good."

The harshness disappeared from Luca's face the moment he looked back at me.

"Don't let someone like her ruin your mood," he said gently. "I came home early because I wanted to spend time with you. Let's go out for a while. I'll take you somewhere nice."

He took my hand and led me into the dressing room as though Celeste hadn't just put on a performance worthy of an award. He carefully chose a dress for me, matched it with jewelry, and studied each piece with complete concentration, making it seem as though I was still the center of his world.

"Get changed," he said. "I'll take care of her first."

As soon as he left the room, I activated the receiver hidden inside the ring.

His voice came through immediately.

It was gentle again.

Soft.

"Honey... I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said quietly. "Seeing her treat you like that made me so angry."

I clenched my jaw.

"But everything went according to plan," he continued. "She agreed when I said I'd send you away, which means you're finally free."

Celeste sounded confused.

"...What do you mean?"

"For now, go back to the villa," Luca explained. "After that, you can go wherever you want. You're not a prisoner anymore. Just send me a message when you arrive so I'll know you're safe."

Her voice trembled with emotion.

"You're... so good to me."

Luca let out a quiet laugh.

"You're my wife," he said without hesitation. "If I don't look after my own wife, then who else is supposed to?"

I switched off the receiver.

By then, both of my hands had gone ice cold.