All the dishes crashed onto me with a clatter. Soup dripped down my dress as I stood against the wall, a complete mess.

Nathan only helped Vivian up. His gaze cut toward me, ice-cold.

"Smear Vivian's reputation again, and forget about any future anniversaries. When that time comes, apologies won't save you."

He took Vivian's hand and strode out.

The private room erupted. Vivian's lackeys started in immediately.

"You still dare to give Mr. Floyd attitude—did you forget how you shamelessly chased after him back then?"

"Better go after him. Otherwise, today's anniversary? He's spending it with Vivian."

A few friends tried to reason with me quietly.

"Alex, don't let pride ruin everything. The Harding–Floyd deal just closed. If he backs out, your father..."

My chest tightened.

If Nathan wanted, he really could force me to kneel and beg Vivian for forgiveness. It wouldn't be the first time.

But this time, I was done swallowing my pride. I wanted to live for myself, just once.

I grabbed the hard liquor from the table, tilted my head back, and drained it. The burn clawed down my throat and into my stomach. My eyes stung.

So this is what they mean when they say alcohol hurts. Just like life.

When I got home, Nathan wasn't there. Vivian had posted on social media—he was with her at the hospital.

His arm was around her shoulders, letting her lean into his chest. His other hand held the IV tube, warming it in his palm.

Vivian curled against him, voice soft and pitiful.

"Mr. Floyd, I made Ms. Harding misunderstand you today. It's all my fault. Hurry home and keep her company, okay? Otherwise she'll make a scene again."

Disgust flickered across Nathan's face.

"Doesn't she just want to chain me to her side? She wants my money, she wants me, and she wants my heart too. Greedy and pathetic."

He took Vivian's hand, voice turning tender. "I only want to be with the person I care about. She can't control that."

Through the screen, I watched Vivian's face flush with shyness. She lifted her chin, straightening slightly. Nathan seized her red lips, and the two of them kissed, deep and lingering.

I turned off my phone. Tears slid past the corners of my eyes.

Nathan and I were never really in love. It was always one-sided—my side.

I'd never dated anyone. Never been cherished.

It started at a banquet when my father slapped me across the face, berating me for "making things difficult" for my stepmother.

Nathan stepped forward. He pulled up the surveillance footage and proved my stepmother had poured the wine on herself. Then he gently pressed an ice pack to my cheek and coaxed me with a small piece of dessert until I smiled again.

I fell for him right there.

That impulse hit—the kind where you want to spend your whole life with someone.

From that day on, my eyes followed Nathan everywhere. I begged my father to take me to every banquet where Nathan might appear. I studied what he liked, memorized his preferences.

On every holiday, I gave gifts tailored to his tastes. I became the companion who came whenever he called, free of charge.

High society has sharp eyes. Everyone saw the love blazing in mine, and they whispered about how shameless I was.

Nathan just listened indifferently, still weaving through crowds, as if none of the gossip had anything to do with him.

Until the car accident.

I threw myself in front of him without thinking. I was unconscious for three months.

When I woke up, he was different. He stewed chicken soup for me himself. He took me to Antarctica to watch the stars. Like real lovers, we watched movies, held hands, wandered the streets at midnight.

He even invested in my father's company, letting him buy into projects worth billions.

One night, as he drove me home, I finally worked up the courage.

"Nathan, I like you."

That day, he pulled me into a jewelry store and picked out the biggest diamond.

"Dummy, the guy's supposed to confess. You can't let the girl make the first move."

That day, he knelt on one knee and spoke like he meant it.

"Alex Harding, marry me."

I cried tears of joy. Three years of secret longing, finally answered. I thought he was the person I'd spend my whole life with.

Until Vivian Fox appeared.

Only then did I realize—loving someone can make you lower your standards without limit.

Vivian could carelessly destroy his favorite houseplants. She could eat snacks in his office and let crumbs scatter across the carpet.

Nathan would just frown. "What a naughty little thing."

Then he'd remind her, all indulgent, to stop watching trashy videos. He'd even put a face mask on her himself, clumsy but gentle.

Unlike me—I restrained every word, every gesture, terrified of making him uncomfortable. Terrified he'd find me disgusting.

Vivian's boundary-crossing only got worse.

Until one negotiation, Nathan bypassed me entirely and brought her instead.

When I rushed over, he was having her sign the contract—for a deal I had already closed.

I snatched the paperwork and demanded an explanation. He was angrier than I was.

"Why are you so petty? You won't even let a newcomer have one deal?"

"Nathan, she's a liberal-arts secretary. Does she know after-sales? This is a multi-billion-dollar contract. If something goes wrong, who takes the fall?"

He said one cold sentence—"I will"—and held Vivian's hand as she signed.

We didn't speak for weeks. For the first time, I wavered on this love I'd chased so long.

Then the contract fell apart. The client threatened to break it and sue for damages.

Nathan said, "Wife, help me. I really can't do this without you."

Just like that, all my doubt hardened back into certainty. I salvaged the deal, spent three months on after-sales, and kept the relationship intact.

And so the cycle began again.

Vivian added mango juice to my milk. I was hospitalized from the allergic reaction. Nathan spent the whole time comforting her—then made me reassure her it wasn't her fault.

I was two weeks pregnant. Vivian deliberately poured cleaning solution at my office doorway. I slipped. I fell.

I lost the baby.

The moment I reached for my phone to call the police, Nathan grabbed my wrist.

"Vivian's still young. You can't ruin her future over this."

"Alex, she's just immature. She made a bet with coworkers about your balance. She didn't mean it. We can have more kids."

I was furious. I screamed. I cursed. For the first time, I said the word divorce.

Nathan called my father and stepmother.

My stepmother looked me over and sneered. "A little girl played a joke on you and you throw a tantrum? You really think you're royalty? That everyone has to cater to you?"

Dad delivered the verdict. "Don't even think about divorce. The Harding family can't afford that embarrassment."

"Keep making trouble, and I'll have your mother's ashes removed from the family cemetery. Dumped in some unmarked hillside. That's what she gets for raising a jealous thing who fights over men."

I just lay there on the hospital bed, listening to them take turns cursing and threatening me.

Finally, Nathan spoke. "Alex, I've never once thought about divorcing you. From now on, I won't let Vivian pull anything again."

That day, right in front of me, he called her. He scolded her, voice sharp with anger.

Through my tears, I forgave him.

But today, that last thread of faith snapped completely.

"Nathan Floyd, I don't want you anymore."

When Nathan came home, it was already late. Vivian came with him.

She looked at me like a startled deer, all timid and fragile.

"Ms. Harding, the doctor said my tonsillitis is really severe. I might spike a fever. Mr. Floyd didn't feel right leaving me alone, so he brought me back with him."

As she spoke, her voice pitched with worry.

"Alex, please don't be mad at Mr. Floyd. If you don't want me here, I'll leave right now."

She made a show of turning toward the door.

Before I could respond, Nathan yanked her back into his arms, then fixed me with a look of pure disgust.

"Alex, don't go stirring up drama when you've got nothing better to do. Vivian is my employee—taking care of her reflects the company's values."

"If you can't tolerate her, move out. This villa is mine. You're just a guest here."

I stared at him, stunned. Every word was an ice pick to the chest.

The home I'd poured my heart into, the place I thought was my safe harbor—I was nothing but a guest in it.

My eyes burned, and I finally understood how pathetic I'd been.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

"If Ms. Fox wants to stay, she can stay."

I turned to head back to the bedroom.

Nathan's voice cut through behind me.

"Pack your things and move to the guest room. Vivian's alone—if she gets a fever tonight, I need to be close."

I looked at him for a long moment. Aren't you afraid of catching it? The question died on my tongue.

I just said, "Mm," grabbed a blanket, and walked to the guest room.

I packed our wedding photo and all my toiletries into a suitcase.

Old things. A newcomer would find them an eyesore anyway—no point making myself unwelcome.

An hour later, the master bedroom was spotless. I'd even vacuumed twice. Not a trace of me remained.

The moment I straightened up, I made a call.

"Ethan, come pick me up."

When I dragged my luggage downstairs, Nathan's expression shifted.

"What scene are you making now? If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back."

I checked the time. Ethan would still be a while, and I had no desire to get into it with him.

"I'm just putting my luggage in the guest room. So Secretary Fox won't feel uncomfortable seeing it."

I pulled my suitcase toward the hallway.

Behind me, Nathan went rigid. He hadn't expected me to comply so easily. For a moment, he just stood there.

Vivian's voice floated over, perfectly timed.

"Mr. Floyd, Ms. Harding is upset. Maybe I should leave after all? I'll just suffer through the night alone—as long as you two don't fight because of me."

Nathan seemed to be convincing himself.

"She gets mad all the time. Give it a couple days, she'll get over it. What's she gonna do?"

Then, as if to prove a point, he ordered me, his face dark.

"Vivian's weak. Go make her something light and nutritious—porridge with sea cucumber."

They both turned to stare at me.

I wasn't going to engage. But I also wasn't going to waste more words. I turned and went to the kitchen.

I rinsed the sea cucumber and washed the rice, tuning out their laughter in the living room.

Nathan's hand slipped under the hem of Vivian's shirt. She squirmed against him, all coy and breathless.

I set the porridge and side dishes in front of them without a word, then turned to leave.

Vivian's voice stopped me.

"Alex, wash my bra for me? I have a cold—I shouldn't touch cold water."

My nails dug into my palms. I fought the urge to slap her.

The next second, Nathan grabbed that disgusting scrap of underwear, raised his hand, and flung it into my face.

"I tell you to wash it and you make that face? Think you're some kind of princess? You're nothing but a bedwarmer the Hardings sold to me."