Before leaving this morning, Tara had mentioned she had a contract to sign at a high-end club.

Then, with a gentler expression, she kissed the corner of my lips and said she'd be back later to eat dinner with me.

These kinds of social obligations were common for her, so I didn't think much of it. But when I turned around, I noticed she'd left the seal in the room. In a panic, I rushed out after her.

I did think it was a little strange when I saw her car stop in front of the gym. But I was too focused on delivering the seal to think twice, so I barged in. That was when I got grabbed by a man named Brandon.

Without a word, I was suspended in the air. I struggled violently, shouting that I was Tara's husband.

But Brandon and the people behind him merely sneered. "Tara has a husband named Eric Robles, and the other is Mr. Brandon Holden, who's standing right in front of you.

"Who do you think you are? And don't you dare say you're Eric!"

Brandon grabbed my chin, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You're just another sick idiot dreaming about my wife. If you like her so much, maybe she should personally send you to your grave."

Mocking laughter erupted all around.

It was then that I realized that every time Tara said she had to sign contracts at night, she was actually sleeping with this guy.

I didn't want to believe that my wife's devotion to me was nothing but an illusion. She'd spent millions to light up the city sky with fireworks just to make me smile.

Last year, she even gave me an island for my birthday, telling me I could do whatever I wanted with it.

This past Valentine's Day, she bought two buildings overnight just to make me smile, saying I could collect rent to be able to give our future children allowances.

And she didn't hesitate to give me a kidney after my car accident. She had shown me so much proof of her love, so how could she have betrayed me behind my back like this?

Clenching my teeth, I shook my head hard. Alas, my firm belief in our relationship was shattered the second I saw her lean in to give Brandon a tender kiss.

"Babe, this jerk pisses me off. Can I turn him into my punching bag?"

"Sure, you can do whatever you want, as long as you're happy."

Tara pinched his face affectionately, her eyes sparkling like a sky full of stars. Seeing that through my soaked hair, I felt my blood slowly run cold.

So Brandon wasn't lying. He really was Tara's husband.

Then Tara appeared with boxing gloves. I held a sliver of hope that she would notice me as I watched her.

If she just glanced back at me, she'd see that the one hanging there to be a punching bag was the one she held close to her heart. Yet, her eyes were fixed on Brandon the whole time.

As if I were an inflatable punching bag, I got knocked down by her over and over again, only to spring back in the end. Blood was everywhere, and breathing itself became a painful ordeal.

And yet, what kept replaying in my mind was her straddling me and swaying happily as she said, "Honey, we should have a daughter first. If she looks like you, I'll spoil her like she's the one and only little princess in the world."

It was then that I realized her "one and only" was just a lie. I slowly lost consciousness. Every part of me hurt, and it felt like I was swaying on a boat at sea.

Urgent shouts rang in my ears. "Sir, hang on! The hospital's just ahead!"

Hearing that, I struggled to open my eyes.

The paramedic was a young lady. Seeing my bloodied face made her panic, but all she could do was comfort me. "Sir, we'll reach the hospital after we pass the outdoor banquet that the Brewer family is hosting. Hang in there!"

I fixed my gaze on the outdoor banquet ahead. Brandon, in a tailored suit, was right next to Tara. The two held each other close.

The way they gazed at each other betrayed their undeniable affection for one another. Tears rolled down my face. I closed my eyes. Grabbing the paramedic's wrist, I croaked, "Save… me!"

The next second, a commotion broke out at the banquet, resulting in the road ahead getting blocked. The ambulance couldn't move.

Blood gushed from me like water from a broken dam.

The paramedic rushed out of the vehicle, shouting at the crowd, "Someone's dying! Please clear the way!"

Alas, the air was filled with jubilant cries. "Happy fifth wedding anniversary to Tara and Brandon!"

Every word hit me like lightning from above.

No wonder she never celebrated our wedding anniversary. That day was reserved for Brandon.

It was funny how I'd been kept in the dark for five years, as I'd fallen for her claim of wanting to keep a low profile again and again.

It wasn't that she didn't want to celebrate it. It was that I didn't deserve to be celebrated.

With my eyelids drooping and my breathing growing faint, the paramedic started crying out of desperation.

Seeing how bloody I was and how close I was to death, she borrowed an electric scooter from a kind stranger and rushed me out of the ambulance.

We were so close to the venue that I even heard Brandon ask, "Babe, what's that thing on the scooter? It's gross…"

"That's just a dead hunk of garbage. Don't look at it. It'll taint your eyes." Tara spoke gently, in the same tone she had used to propose to me years ago.

Back then, she had said, "Eric, I love you to death. Marry me! I'll take care of you for the rest of your life!"

Only now did it dawn on me that Tara's so-called care was just a way to kill me all along.

By the time we reached the hospital, I was bleeding out, and my breathing nearly stopped. The doctors rushed straight into the operating room, carrying O-negative blood packs.

"How much more blood do we need?"

"1,600 mL. There's just enough in the hospital blood bank!" a nurse answered, wiping sweat from her brow.

The next second, the operating room doors were slammed open. A group of men in black stormed in, guns pressed against the doctors' heads.

Tara stepped in, her brows deeply furrowed. Looking flustered, she barked, "Send all O-negative blood to the operating room across the hall! No one takes my husband's blood!"

I tried to reach for her sleeve with my bloody hand, to tell her that her husband was right here. But clearly, the husband she meant wasn't me. It was Brandon.

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. One of the nurses said, "That man just has a small cut on his pinky. Blood transfusion isn't needed…"

Ignoring every word, the cold-faced Tara threatened them with her gun.

Holding back the pain and bitterness in my heart, I managed to cry out, "I am—"

She slapped me across the face, knocking me down in the process. Her eyes were dark and cruel as she snapped, "Shut up! Keep talking, and I'll make you my husband's living blood pack!"

After hitting me, she glanced at her blood-stained hand in disdain. With a cold snort, she grabbed the blood packs and walked out.

Holding my face, I lay there in a daze, feeling like my whole body had already been torn apart.

Three years ago, she spent three million dollars to buy a single pack of blood for me at the hospital.

Now, she was also the one taking away all the blood needed to save my life with a gun in her hand.

She was the same person, and the situation was the same. Only now, she was protecting Brandon instead of me.

Although the doctors were scared stiff, they couldn't just stand by and watch me die.

At that moment, a nurse dragged in a volunteer. Panting heavily, she blurted out between pauses, "I found one… This person is O-negative…"

The doctors collectively let out a breath of relief before scrambling to draw the blood and start transfusions.

As new blood flowed into my body, my deathly pale face slowly began to regain some color.

Just as the doctors were about to clean my wounds, the door was slammed open again.

Tara gave me a cold, icy glance, as if she were looking at a corpse. "I want this man's liver. My husband's liver is bad. This is a good opportunity to replace it."

My gaze was unfocused as I looked at her, my lips trembling uncontrollably. I felt like a complete joke.

Summoning all the strength I had left, I shakily pointed at the door and forced out, "Get out!"

Glaring at me with disgust, she kicked the operating table, sending both the table and me crashing straight into a wall.

As I hit the floor, I coughed up a mouthful of blood. She didn't even look at me when she viciously spat, "You piece of trash! You ought to be grateful my husband even wants your liver!"

The doctors clutched their heads out of fear and were too scared to speak.

"What are all of you waiting for? If anything happens to my husband, none of you will live!"

Tara glanced at the operating room across the hall, panic written all over her face.

One doctor, feeling bad upon seeing me lying in a pool of blood, mustered his courage to say, "Mr. Eri—"

"Shut your mouth! Take his liver now! One more word and I'll send your whole family to the grave!"

With rage burning in her eyes, Tara pointed her black gun squarely at the doctor's forehead.

Even though the doctors knew that forcibly removing a person's liver would almost certainly mean death, no one dared say anything for fear of losing their lives.

The operating room doors gradually closed. Through the intercom, Tara's placating words to Brandon reached my ears. "Don't worry, honey. A liver fresh from a living person should be in great shape. It'll definitely fix your liver problem. I'll be there soon. Wait for me. Love you…"

Every word was like a hammer to my heart, and all the memories of our past love were reduced to ashes.

I watched her leave, feeling like my heart was being stabbed again and again with a bloodied blade.

For her to risk her husband's life to treat her lover, Tara really took devotion to a whole other level. The anesthesia took effect quickly, and I soon slipped into unconsciousness.

While unconscious, I could have sworn I heard the promise she made at our wedding. "Honey, I could even give my life for you…"

Tears slid down my cheeks. I wanted to grab her, to demand answers, but everything before me was a blood-red blur, rendering me blind.

When my liver was removed, I weakly opened my eyes.

The doctor, taking pity on me, held my bloody liver in front of me. "Don't worry, Mr. Robles. We're replacing it with an artificial liver. It will be able to sustain you for a while…"

When I saw the gaping hole in my abdomen, my whole body ached as if my organs were being wrung out. I instinctively tried to reach out and touch it, but I couldn't lift my broken arms.

I'd imagined growing old with Tara countless times. We'd have ten children, half of them taking after her, the other half after me.

But not once had I imagined her hurting me like this. I never thought she would have my liver extracted just so that her lover could be saved.

I watched helplessly as my liver was packed and taken away. All that came out of my mouth was choked sobs.

The surgeon nearby was about to stitch my wound when another doctor rushed over to stop him. "Don't stitch him up yet. This man might need another surgery again…"

The other doctors widened their eyes in shock. "If he gets another cut, he'll die!"