The year I went the most insane, all to get back at Adrian Cole.

I stabbed the woman he kept outside eighteen times.

The entire Newport City said Adrian had realized his mistakes, that he cherished me even more than before.

Until the third year of our marriage, when I received an intimate video of him with that same woman.

“Baby, these scars are proof of your love for me. I swear I’ll never betray you for the rest of my life.”

The woman packed her luggage with a bright smile, flaunting herself at me.

“Victoria Hayes, in these three years Adrian has stripped away your claws, pampering you into nothing more than a spoiled kitten.”

“All of this, just so I could come back.”

But what she didn’t know was that someone who has gone insane once, can only become even more insane.

And now, without Adrian’s reins on me, I would show no mercy.

…

The call ended. I stared at the video of the two of them entwined.

My fingers dug deep into the leather sofa.

For three years, Adrian had taken good care of Clara Ward.

The eighteen knife wounds, from her chest to her back, had all been patched up.

The largest scar had been covered with a vibrant butterfly tattoo across her thin shoulder blade—so strikingly beautiful it could steal one’s breath.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so damn much these three years.”

Adrian kissed her, his hand pressed gently against her abdomen as though terrified of causing her pain.

I couldn’t even remember the last time Adrian and I had shared a bed.

He was always taking calls late at night, hiding away in his study, never returning to our room.

The suitcase I had packed for him before his trip still sat boldly beside our bed.

Inside it was our wedding photo—he took it everywhere, and people said he loved me to death.

But was it only so I could witness his lust with another woman?

Hatred burned through me, but I forced myself to stay on the sofa, gritting my teeth as I watched the video until the very end.

When spring faded, Clara leaned close to the camera, smiling triumphantly.

“Well, Victoria?”

“You stabbed me eighteen times back then. Consider this stab my payback—does it hurt enough?”

She had only disappeared from Adrian’s sight for a few moments, yet the man was already panicked, calling out her name and clenching his fists.

The video cut off with a sharp “snap.”

He had seen the camera, his eyes full of rage and dread.

That look pierced me like a knife.

Just like three years ago.

When I was acquitted by the Supreme Court of Newport City.

Everyone said I, Victoria, was insane.

That I lived only for my own pleasure.

Three years ago, Adrian was the person I trusted most.

But in high society, there is no such thing as secrets.

The day after rumors spread of Adrian putting high heels on Clara, she had strutted proudly to my door.

“You’re old, but I’m still young.”

“Victoria, all you’ve got is blood on your hands—what can you possibly compare with me?”

She flaunted herself, holding one of my designer gowns, and in the next instant my knife plunged into her shoulder blade.

I yanked her by the hair. “You know, once you’ve stained yourself with blood, a little more doesn’t matter.”

I stabbed Clara eighteen times, each one careful not to be fatal.

She collapsed in a pool of blood, screaming that I had to pay with my life.

But the Hayes family’s reach in Newport City stretched far and wide.

In the end, all I bore was the label of “self-defense.”

Adrian, sitting in the plaintiff’s seat, watched as I walked out of court with my head held high.

His eyes were bloodshot, his fists clenched, and then—he knelt before me.

“…I’m sorry.”

He was my father’s foster son.

Since he was ten, this madman had been my leash.

Countless times, he tore the knife from my hand or pulled the bullets out of my bag.

Anyone who betrayed me had only one ending in my hands—death.

But that day, the rain fell too heavily, too muddied.

And I hesitated.

My father’s final words were:

“Sweetheart, it’s fine if you were crazy before. But from now on, you must treat Adrian as the sharpest knife in your hand.”

The day my father died, it was Adrian who, heedless of his own life, wiped out every rival in a single bloody night.

He elevated me to the rightful throne of the Crime Boss.

The downpour of blood splattered across him as Adrian wiped it from his face, like a demon risen from hell.

Without hesitation, he handed me the Family Crest Medallion that symbolized leadership.

“Coco, what’s yours will always be yours—no one can take it away.”

In Newport City, in the dreaded underworld, within the Hayes family’s territory—

True loyalty was the cheapest, and yet the most precious thing of all.

I ejected the magazine, kicked him into the mud.

Forbade anyone from covering him with an umbrella.

Let the rain drench him pale.

“Come back when you’re clean.”

“Adrian, there will never be a next time.”

For the next three years, whenever Adrian was in Newport City, he always came home before ten.

He gave me a yacht named after me, anchored in Hudson Bay, set to sail only for me.

He brought my favorite singer to Madison Square Garden, holding a private concert just for me.

We kissed atop Twin Peaks Hill, and wandered alleys for nothing more than a glass of iced lemon tea.

Everyone in Newport City feared Adrian.

But they all admitted one thing—Adrian loved me deeply.

Yet when I saw that woman’s unchanging smirk, I knew.

Adrian didn’t love me deeply—he had simply learned how to protect her better.

The hatred dragged my heart down like molten lead.

As my father said, Adrian was a good knife.

But the hand gripping him was not mine.

I wiped away my tears, pulling out the gun I hadn’t touched in three years.

The first shot shattered our wedding photo.

The glass split down the middle, separating Adrian’s hand from mine.

The second shot pierced the helm of the “Victoria,” our yacht on Hudson Bay.

Our love could never restart.

The third shot destroyed the TV replaying the Madison Square Garden concert.

I wanted no love tainted with pretense.

Clara had calculated everything perfectly—except one thing.

Even if a madwoman pretends to be tame, she’s still a madwoman.

What’s mine can only ever be mine.

Either obey me—or die.

The day the U.S. media exposed my marital scandal with Adrian, the yacht “Victoria” was publicly auctioned.

One clueless bidder shouted, “One dollar!”

I grabbed the mic, thrilled as the gavel fell.

“One dollar—it’s yours!”

When the butler handed over the transfer papers in front of everyone, I received a call from Adrian.

“Coco, what game are you playing with me now?”

“Do you want those mansions on the hill, or that crown from the auction? Say the word, I’ll even pluck the stars for you.”

Adrian’s way of coaxing could truly intoxicate.

But the sweeter the words, the more poisonous they felt.

I narrowed my eyes, glancing at the message just sent by my men.

“I want nothing—except for you to come back.”

“And play this game properly with me.”

Adrian came home three days after the scandal broke.

Flying back from Switzerland, almost at the fastest speed possible.

The moment he stepped through the door, Mr. Harris pressed a gun into his hand.

He carried his suitcase, staring at me in confusion.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

I toyed with the grip of my pistol, eyes sharp, beckoning him closer.

The next second, my men dragged Clara forward.

After days of hunger, she still held her head high the instant she saw Adrian.

She defied me fearlessly, shouting, “Victoria Hayes, I’m not afraid of you!”

“If you dare touch me, Adrian will never forgive you!”

I rose lazily from my chair, watching Adrian’s blood-red eyes.

Then shoved the barrel of my gun against Clara’s mouth.

Ignoring her struggles, I tilted my head toward Adrian.

“Two choices: kill her yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

I smiled faintly, my nails trailing across her cheek.

“Only then, her death won’t be so pretty.”

Across the long mahogany table, Adrian’s fury gradually cooled.

He met my gaze with icy calm.

“And what if I choose neither?”

“Victoria, are you really going to go against me?”

At that moment, my brow twitched.

Adrian already knew my answer.

Since we were ten, Adrian had always been the one to take care of me quietly.

Ruthless to outsiders, soft as a saint to me.

The only times he ever confronted me were when I crossed his bottom line.

When I lost control, pulled a gun at the wrong time.

He couldn’t stop me, but he also couldn’t bear to knock me out.

Instead, he threw his own body in front of those who had broken my taboos.

“Coco, if you have to shoot, shoot me.”

“Don’t hesitate.”

My aim was notorious in the underworld.

Adrian didn’t fear death—he’d point at his own head.

More than once, my finger pulled the trigger, the muzzle smoking.

Adrian closed his eyes, and somehow the bullets always missed.

When I finally threw the gun aside in frustration, he would rush forward and hold me.

Using his body to steady me.

Eyes full of irrepressible joy.

“Be good, I know you won’t hurt me.”

I’d bite his hand in rage, showing my ferocity.

“Adrian, try using yourself as leverage one more time!”

But Adrian never listened. He always shielded others.

Sometimes I thought Adrian was sent from above to suppress me.

Without him, I’d have been killed by my enemies dozens of times, buried beside my father.

But this time, the person he wanted to protect couldn’t be saved.

“Adrian, since you won’t choose, I’ll choose for you.”

I pressed the barrel into Clara’s palate.

Her mind went blank, nearly fainting from terror.

“I’ll give you three seconds…”

“Three…”

Faster than the countdown was Adrian’s move.

He twisted Harris’s arm, pressing the gun to his temple.

For Clara, Adrian dared to threaten my man.

A man who had raised me, prepared everything for me, practically like my own uncle.

Fury tore through me. “Let him go, Adrian!”

His jaw tightened, unable to meet my eyes.

“Give Clara back to me.”

“Please, Coco.”

Even at that moment, he still called me by my nickname.

Was it to make me feel even more disgusted?