My husband, Jacob Morris, wrongly believed that I had pushed the woman he loved down the stairs. So, he locked me in the basement to make me reflect on my actions.

He hired people to punish me, trying to break my spirit. I suffered inhumane torture. My tendons were cut, and my face was disfigured.

Four years later, he finally remembered me and let me out.

But by then, I was too broken to love him anymore.

I stepped out of the basement barefoot. The bright sunlight was so harsh that I had to shut my eyes.

When I opened them again, I saw Jacob standing before me. He was dressed in an expensive suit, looking aloof and unapproachable.

My clothes were dirty and torn. I had been wearing them for months. Feeling anxious and scared, I called out softly, "M-Mr. Morris…"

He looked down at me and said coldly, "Lift your head."

I slowly looked up.

He was startled when he saw the scar on my face.

"What happened to your face?" he asked.

The bodyguard beside him avoided my eyes and quickly said, "Ms. Barnes accidentally cut herself."

Jacob turned to me and asked, "Is that true?"

I wrung my hands nervously, too frightened to speak.

They had wanted to carve a mark of submission into my face. I struggled and ended up with a jagged scar.

Jacob didn't ask anything else and turned to get in the car.

I couldn't walk as quickly as the others because my tendons were damaged.

He grew irritated.

"Why are you so slow? Do you want to go back to the basement?" he snapped.

I shook my head in fear. "No, please don't. Please don't send me back."

He smirked, clearly satisfied. "Looks like I made the right choice. You've finally learned your lesson."

I froze, holding back the bitterness deep inside, then got into the car.

As we drove, I glanced at him.

He still looked elegant and handsome, but I no longer recognized him.

We had grown up together. I had loved him since we were kids. Later, our families arranged our marriage.

I thought he liked me too—until his first love, Rachel Allen, came back. I realized he had only married me because of family pressure.

Even so, I didn't give up. I believed that one day, he would see how much I cared for him. But instead, he sent me into a nightmare, condemning me to eternal ruin.

Four years ago, Rachel returned and falsely claimed I pushed her down the stairs, which caused her injury.

Jacob was furious and locked me in the basement, saying I needed to reflect. He told the people there to make me obedient by any means, as long as I didn't die.

Suddenly, he wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

I looked down and saw that my arm was bleeding. Before I was released, they had warned me to stay quiet and hit me with a chair.

Noticing the blood dripping onto the car seat, I panicked. I bent down and wiped the seat with my sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Morris. I didn't mean to dirty your seat. I'll clean it up right away."

Seeing me desperately wipe the seat, he frowned. "Grace, how did you become like this?"

I forced a smile.

He was the one who had locked me in the basement and subjected me to cruel, inhumane treatment. I was forced to become obedient and submissive, stripped of all the illusions I once held about him. And then he questioned why I became like this.

Wasn't this exactly what he intended all along?

After cleaning the seat, I didn't sit back down. I curled up in a corner, afraid the smell of blood on me would make him uncomfortable.

Jacob looked at me with confusion. "Grace, you used to always cling to me. Why are you staying so far away now?"

Why?

There were countless nights when I hoped Jacob would show up and take me away from that pitch-black basement. But he never did.

Eventually, I stopped hoping. Even thinking about him hurt too much.

Every day, all I faced were beatings and humiliation. They would hit me while forcing me to bark like a dog.

"How dare a filthy loser like you fall for Mr. Morris?"

"You're just a dog. Don't get any ideas, or I'll beat you to death. Got that?"

They tortured me until I was covered in bruises and blood. In the end, I could only cry and repeat their words.

"I'm a dog. I don't deserve to fall for Mr. Morris."

They didn't care even when they nearly beat me to death. They just left me there to rot.

After four years of torment, how could I possibly still have feelings for Jacob? I had learned my lesson.

The thought made my throat tighten, and I choked out, "I'm sorry. I know I was wrong."

When we arrived at the villa, I had barely stepped through the door when Rachel came down the stairs.

"Ms. Barnes, welcome home," she said with a sweet smile. "What happened to you? You must've suffered greatly. Don't blame Jacob. He just wanted to toughen you up."

Jacob shot me an irritated glare when he noticed I was standing there silently.

"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear Rachel talking to you?"

I flinched and dropped to my knees immediately. "I'm sorry, Mr. Morris! Please don't be mad. I won't do it again."

Rachel looked down at me with smug satisfaction, then turned to Jacob with a helpless expression and said, "Jacob, don't be so hard on Ms. Barnes."

His tone softened instantly. "Rachel, you're too kind. If she hadn't pushed you down the stairs, you wouldn't have been stuck in the hospital for days."

Four years ago, I would have tried to explain that I never pushed Rachel. But now, I said nothing.

I knew Jacob didn't love me. Anything I did would be considered a crime to him, so explaining was pointless.

Jacob told the housekeeper to take me to shower because he thought I stank.

The housekeeper looked troubled and said, "I accidentally threw out all of Ms. Barnes' clothes while cleaning. Maybe she could wear a maid's uniform for now."

Rachel scolded her gently, "Ms. Barnes is still Jacob's wife in name. How could you let her wear a maid's uniform?"

I quickly said, "It's fine. I can wear it."

Back in the basement, they used to strip me naked and hang me up while beating me. They said I was a dog and didn't deserve to wear clothes.

I had begged them to let me cover myself, but they only laughed and crushed every last bit of my dignity. Compared to that, a maid's uniform meant nothing.

When we reached the room upstairs, the maid tossed the clothes in my face and pinched her nose. "Don't you dare dirty my clothes, you filthy loser!"

I was supposed to be the lady of this house. Now, I was just an unwanted guest—someone even the maid could step on.

I took forever in the shower, scrubbing myself with bottle after bottle of body wash. My bony frame was covered in bruises, scabs, and scars. Every drop of water burned.

When I came downstairs, I heard Jacob's cold voice. "Grace, do you think you're still the pampered daughter of the Barnes family? How dare you make us wait for you!"

I trembled and apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were waiting for me."

He noticed the scar on my face and gave me a look of pure disgust. "Get over here and eat!"

I rushed over and sat down, lowering my head. Tears dripped into my bowl.

During the four years I was locked away in the basement, my parents died in a plane crash, and my family went bankrupt. Everything fell apart. Now, I had no one.

As I reached for a dish on the table, Jacob exploded, "Grace, what is wrong with you? How are we supposed to eat with you doing this? Are you trying to make us sick on purpose?"

Jacob's shout jolted me back to reality. I wasn't in the basement anymore.

I panicked and stammered, "N-No... I didn't mean to. I'm just not used to using cutlery."

In the basement, I had to fight the dogs for scraps if I wanted to eat.

At first, I refused. I would have rather gone hungry than lowered myself to that level. But when they saw I was being defiant, they beat me with sticks and forced me to crawl over and compete with the dogs.

My legs were broken, so I could only drag myself across the floor. The dogs bit me all over, but I still cried and shoved the filthy food into my mouth through the stench.

If I lost the fight, I didn't just go hungry; I had to bark like a dog to entertain them.

Rachel reached over and held Jacob's hand, pretending to be kind and understanding. She said, "Ms. Barnes probably just needs time to adjust. She just got out of the basement."

Jacob looked at the food on the table with disgust and said coldly to the maid, "Clear the table."

Even though I was terrified, I reached out instinctively to shield the dishes and said in a trembling tone, "No... Don't take them away. I'll eat them. Just give them to me."

It had been so long since I had seen a clean, proper meal like this. I couldn't bear to let it go to waste.

Jacob looked at me with pure contempt. "You're disgusting, Grace."

With that, he stood up, took Rachel by the hand, and walked out of the dining room. "Let's go eat somewhere else."

Once they were gone, I shoved the food into my mouth like I had never eaten before.

Suddenly, my stomach twisted violently. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet, I threw up everything I had just eaten.

I remember once, they beat me so severely that I was unconscious for two full days. They were afraid I might die—and that they'd have trouble explaining it to Jacob—so they finally called a doctor to treat me.

The doctor told me my body was failing and that I wouldn't live much longer without proper treatment. He said I should start preparing myself for the end.

I pulled myself to my feet and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was as pale as a ghost, with a jagged scar across it. I didn't even recognize myself anymore. I looked like someone who was already halfway gone.

The next day, Jacob handed me a strapless gown and said, "Put this on. You're coming with me to a banquet tonight."

A banquet?

Before my family fell apart, I used to attend events like that all the time. But I no longer belonged in those circles.

"Mr. Morris, can I not go? You could take Ms. Allen instead."

The moment I refused, his expression turned dark.

"Do you think I want to bring you? If my client didn't care so much about family appearances, I wouldn't even consider it. Look at yourself. You're a walking embarrassment!"

My body trembled as I remembered the look on his face four years ago when he wrongly believed I had pushed Rachel down the stairs.

It was the same expression, and it scared me so much that I instinctively dropped to my knees and bowed my head in fear.

"Mr. Morris, don't be mad. I'll go. I'll behave. Just don't send me back to the basement. I'm begging you!"

Jacob looked stunned for a moment, then sneered. "You'd better behave. If you ruin this deal for me, you'll regret it."

"I won't. I promise I won't."

All I could do was cling to him and do whatever he asked, just to avoid being locked up again.

That night, the ballroom glittered with lights and laughter.

I stood beside Jacob in that strapless gown, layered in concealer to cover the scars on my body. I looked almost like a normal person.

When he told me to toast the client, I raised my glass nervously.

The client stared at my hand, surprised. "Ms. Barnes, your fingers…"

I froze.

Back in the basement, they had used all kinds of tools to punish me. They ripped out my fingernails one by one, so my fingers were now twisted and deformed.

I murmured, "I… I had an injury."

The client nodded politely.

Humiliated, I made an excuse and slipped away to the restroom.

Rachel followed me in and said, "Grace, listen closely. Jacob is mine."

I said nothing.

She slapped me hard across the face. With no one else around, she dropped the act and glared at me with pure malice. "Weren't you so arrogant before? What? Cat got your tongue now?"

When she first returned to the country, she taunted me over and over. I used to argue with her, unable to hold back my anger.

But four years in the basement had stripped me of my pride and dignity. There was nothing left to defend.

"Ms. Allen, I wish you and Mr. Morris a happy life together."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, a smug smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad you finally understand your place. If you dare go after Jacob again, I'll make sure you rot in that basement for the rest of your life."

After she left, I dragged my weak body out of the restroom. Suddenly, blood started dripping from my nose, and it wouldn't stop.

I pressed my fingers to my nostrils to stop it, but it kept coming, soaking the pale gown in red. My legs gave out, and I collapsed.

Someone walking by saw me and shouted, "Help! Someone passed out! She's bleeding everywhere! Is she dying?"