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.

That evening, Luca took me to one of the city's most exclusive Italian restaurants. Everything about the place was flawless, from the elegant décor and perfectly plated dishes to the breathtaking skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

It should have felt romantic.

Instead, I felt absolutely nothing.

Luca sat across from me, appearing as calm and composed as ever, but I noticed the subtle glances he kept stealing at his phone. He wasn't distracted by work.

He was waiting.

Waiting for a message from her.

Because she was his wife.

The moment his phone rang, he answered so quickly it was obvious he'd been anticipating the call. In his haste, his thumb slipped onto the wrong button.

The speakerphone turned on.

Celeste's terrified voice echoed across the table.

"I... I've been kidnapped! I don't know where they're taking me..." she cried between shaky breaths. "But maybe it's for the best. If I disappear, Miss Hart won't have to be upset anymore. Ah...! Someone, please help me!"

The call abruptly disconnected.

The color drained from Luca's face.

He immediately dialed her number.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

No answer.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet mine.

His voice was controlled, but the strain beneath it was impossible to miss.

"Camille... where did you send her?"

I stared at him in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you're angry, tell me." His tone grew harder with every word. "I'll deal with it myself. You don't have to dirty your own hands. Why would you do something this reckless?"

I slowly placed my fork on the table.

"I'll say this one more time," I replied evenly. "I had nothing to do with it."

Without warning, his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

"So you're really going to deny it?" he snapped. "Celeste isn't mentally stable. She can't handle something like this."

My heart lurched.

"Camille," he continued impatiently, "can you stop for just a minute? I know you lost your hand, but she's suffered too. Haven't you done enough? Just let her go."

For several seconds, I couldn't even breathe.

She had suffered?

A bitter laugh almost escaped me.

She had attacked me with an axe.

Someone had protected her from facing prison.

She got to marry the man she'd always wanted.

She spent four years hidden away, cherished and cared for.

And now...

She had her freedom.

So who exactly was the victim here?

Who had spent all those years fighting alone?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and met his gaze.

"I already told you it wasn't me." My voice remained calm despite the tears burning behind my eyes. "And whether this hand was transplanted or not... it still feels pain."

Luca froze.

His eyes dropped to my wrist, where angry red marks had already begun to form beneath his grip.

"Damn it..." He immediately let go, guilt flashing across his face. "Camille, I'm sorry. I thought you were acting impulsively. I didn't mean to hurt you."

After a moment, he frowned.

"Where are the rings I gave you? Why aren't you wearing them?"

I nearly laughed.

"You accidentally gave me the men's ring," I reminded him. "It was too big, so I took it off."

He blinked in surprise before giving a small nod.

"Alright. We'll switch them back once we get home."

Just like that, the conversation ended.

It was as though Celeste's disappearance had never happened.

...

Three nights later, long after midnight, Luca's phone rang again.

He stood up immediately and headed for the door.

Just before leaving, he suddenly stopped and turned back to look at me.

I remained exactly where I was, quietly reading, making no attempt to question him or ask where he was going.

For a brief moment, uncertainty crossed his face.

It was almost as though he didn't know what to do with this quieter version of me.

He hesitated.

For one second, I thought he might stay.

Then his phone rang again.

"Something came up at the company," he said hurriedly before walking out.

He never returned that night.

Instead, a single message appeared on my phone.

[Camille, work's keeping me late tonight. Don't wait for me. Get some sleep. Love you.]

I looked at the screen for several seconds before locking my phone.

Those words no longer meant anything.

The following morning, one of the maids informed me that someone had come looking for me.

As soon as I stepped outside, something struck the back of my head.

Everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, my wrists and ankles were tightly bound, and tape sealed my mouth shut. I found myself inside a private room at a nightclub, where the distant thump of music seeped through the walls.

Someone had changed my clothes.

I was wearing the same servant's uniform and mask Celeste had worn before.

My hair...

It was gone.

The long hair Luca had always loved had been hacked away, leaving it uneven and barely reaching my ears.

The door suddenly burst open.

"Wife," Luca said in a dangerously quiet voice, "is this the woman who imprisoned you and tortured you for three days?"

"It's her!" Celeste sobbed without hesitation. "She said Miss Hart ordered her to make my life miserable... to make me beg for death. She locked me up, tortured me, and even brought men in to humiliate me." Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands. "I... I barely escaped alive..."

I struggled desperately against the ropes, trying to scream.

The tape reduced every sound to muffled cries.

Luca's expression darkened.

"Camille has gone too far this time." His voice was cold enough to freeze the room. "I won't lay a hand on her... but someone has to pay for what she's done."

He held out his hand.

"Bring me the salt whip."

Fear swept through my body.

Celeste wasn't simply framing me anymore.

She wanted Luca to believe I was a monster.

Someone deserving of punishment.

Luca accepted the whip before walking slowly toward me.

For the briefest moment, he paused.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Something about me seemed familiar.

Perhaps it was my eyes.

Perhaps it was instinct.

The room was dimly lit, and I thought...

For one impossible second...

That he might recognize me.

Then Celeste wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Honey..." she whispered tearfully. "Thank you for protecting me. That woman hurt me so much..."

In that instant, I understood why he hadn't recognized me.

I had never worn a servant's uniform.

I had always kept my hair long because he loved it that way.

The woman kneeling before him now had uneven, cropped hair, a cheap uniform, and a mask hiding half her face.

In his mind, she couldn't possibly be Camille.

I watched the last trace of hesitation disappear from his eyes.

The warmth I'd once known vanished completely, replaced by the ruthless man everyone else feared.

"If anyone dares lay a finger on my wife," he growled, lifting the whip, "I'll make them suffer a thousand times worse. Do you hear me? I'll make you regret the day you were born."

The whip cracked through the air with a deafening snap.

A split second later, it tore across my back.

Pain exploded through my body as the salt-soaked barbs ripped into my skin, leaving burning trails that felt as though they had been carved open by claws.