As the funeral came to an end, the mourners slowly departed from the grand and solemn mourning hall. The only person left was Lucille Powell, a stunning woman dressed in white, kneeling on one of the pews, lost in deep prayer.

After a while, Lucille stood up. She looked at the deceased's portrait one last time and made her way out of the hall.

Exhausted, she returned to Reed Family Villa but remembered that she hadn't seen her husband in days.

Her husband had been working overnight recently and regretted not being able to attend his grandfather's funeral. Lucille understood that he was coping with the loss in his own way, and work seemed to be his refuge. Everyone handles grief differently; as his wife, the best thing she could do was be there for him.

Stopping by the villa, she prepared some soup for him and then drove to Reed Corp. Lucille glanced at the thermos in the passenger seat and smiled softly. Upon arrival, with a thermos in hand, she quickly got out of the car and made her way into the company.

"Welcome, Mrs. Reed. Shall I notify the president of your arrival?" the receptionist politely greeted her as Lucille approached the front desk.

"No need. Lucas is expecting me," Lucille replied with elegance. She knew her husband must be immersed in his work, and a phone call from the lobby would only serve as a distraction.

The receptionist hung up the phone and hurriedly walked towards the CEO's elevator, gesturing for Lucille to follow. "Please, come this way, Mrs. Reed."

Lucille stepped into the familiar elevator, heading to Lucas' office on the 28th floor. As it ascended, the gentle hum of the elevator brought a sense of calm to Lucille. After three years of marriage, visiting Lucas at his workplace had become one of their cherished moments of connection.

Lucille cautiously stepped out of the elevator, her footsteps silenced by the luxurious Italian carpet adorned the corridor. Making her way toward the end of the hallway, she approached Lucas' office door. As she raised her hand to knock, she noticed the door slightly ajar. A mischievous thought crossed her mind – it would be delightful to surprise her husband by entering quietly. Lucille couldn't help but imagine the amusing expression on his handsome face once he realized her prank.

With a gentle push, she eased the door open and entered the room silently. To her surprise, Lucas was nowhere to be seen. However, her curiosity was piqued when she heard a faint conversation from within the private room in the office.

"My dear, do you love me?" a woman's voice echoed.

"Of course, baby, I love you. You are the most important woman in my life," a hoarse voice replied.

Lucille's heart sank, and the world seemed to crumble around her. It couldn't be her husband, could it? The words she overheard were too devastating to comprehend. If that woman was Lucas' beloved, then who was she? Lucille was his wife!

Tears welled up in Lucille's eyes, cascading down her cheeks like a torrential downpour. It felt like a thousand needles pierced her heart, leaving her weakened and shattered. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and she struggled to maintain her composure, almost dropping the thermos.

Moans and grunts filled her ears, and despite her lack of experience, Lucille wasn't a fool not to know what was happening. She covered her mouth to stifle her sobs, leaning against the wall for support as her strength waned.

Denial flooded Lucille's mind as she desperately sought to reconcile the shocking revelation with her memories of Lucas's kindness and their intimate moments. She recalled countless instances where Lucas had shown his affection in small, tender gestures. He would cast aside his macho facade to tie her shoelaces in front of others, reach for dishes that were out of her grasp during dinner parties, and even soothe her with a hot compress during painful period cramps.

"This can't be real..." Lucille murmured, clenching her fist, desperately trying to convince herself it was all a misunderstanding. There was no way that the man inside that room could be her beloved husband. Lucas's love and the warmth in his eyes couldn't possibly be a facade. Besides, she knew that Lucas had erectile dysfunction, a condition she had supported him through for the past three years, hoping for his recovery. It simply couldn't be him.

In her panicked state, Lucille tried to convince herself that the hoarse voice she heard didn't match Lucas's, providing a faint glimmer of hope. Perhaps it was one of his drunken friends engaging in inappropriate behavior. The thought bolstered her resolve, granting her a semblance of courage as she moved closer to the private room.

"Maybe I should ask them to take their activities elsewhere, like a hotel," Lucille thought, her voice laced with uncertainty and determination. Even if it wasn't Lucas, it was inappropriate to soil her husband's office in such a manner.

Before she reached the room, her eyes were drawn to the scattered clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor. She hesitated for a moment. Her gaze fixated on something that made her freeze in shock.

Lucille felt her breath constrict as the weight of the situation closed in on her. The sight of the crystal cufflinks, meticulously designed by both her and Lucas, now adorning the crumpled suit scattered on the floor, confirmed her worst fears. She didn't need to open the next door to know who was inside.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through Lucille. Part of her wanted to flee from the scene, to escape the painful reality before her. But a stronger force compelled her to stay, to confront the person who had shattered her marriage. She switched into fight mode at that moment, unwilling to let go of the three beautiful years she and Lucas had built together. She was determined to face the one who had stolen her happiness.

As she pushed open the door, Lucille's gaze fell upon Lucas's sculpted back, marked with the passionate scratches of the woman beneath him. Tears welled up in her eyes as the truth washed over her. He had always deceived her, feigning erectile dysfunction to cover his infidelity. The efforts she had poured into their relationship now felt like a cruel joke. She had cared for him deeply, but he had manipulated her, leading her on like a puppet on a string.

In an instant, an overwhelming wave of anger surged within Lucille. Uncapping her thermos, she wasted no time pouring the soup onto the two unsuspecting lovers.

"Ah!" They cried out in surprise, their passion abruptly interrupted.

"What the fuck?" Lucas shouted, his fury evident as he turned to identify the source of the drenching liquid. Standing before him was Lucille, tightly gripping the nearly empty thermos, her teeth gritted in defiance.

Regret flickered through Lucille's mind momentarily, realizing she had taken the time to cool the soup before packing it in the thermos. The scalding heat would have delivered a more fitting punishment, a physical representation of her pain. Nevertheless, she locked eyes with Lucas, his handsome face still captivating, even with his hair dripping soup. He gulped, his expression shifting from anger to indifference. Lucille felt uncomfortable as the man she believed was her husband seemed utterly unaffected. He looked at her as though she were a stranger, unperturbed even after being caught in the most compromising position.

Slowly rising from the bed, Lucas draped a towel around his waist. Meanwhile, his mistress shrank back, hiding her face beneath the duvet to shield her identity from Lucille's gaze. Clenching her fists, Lucille turned her attention back to Lucas, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She wanted to scream at him, to unleash her fury, but only one word escaped her lips.

"Why?" Lucille asked, her voice trembling with a mix of tears and disbelief.

Lucas's face twisted with a sickening mix of disgust and contempt. He locked eyes with Lucille and spoke with deliberate slowness, his words laced with cruelty.

"You're filthy, Lucy. Did you honestly believe I loved you? How naive of you to think I would be interested in a whore like you!"

Lucille's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the pain coursing through her. It felt like a blade had pierced her, shattering her heart into countless pieces. The room grew suffocating, her breath shallow and her fingers numbed by the cold grip of despair. Her legs threatened to give way, but she steadied herself against the wall, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume her.

As tears welled up in her eyes, Lucille fought back the urge to cry in front of them. She knew they would relish in her pain, using it as fuel for their mockery. She couldn't afford to give them that satisfaction. She faced them with a facade of relative calm, though her trembling fingers betrayed the inner turmoil she battled.

Biting down on her lip, Lucille used a hardened tone to shield herself from the emotional anguish that threatened to break her. "If you think I'm filthy, why did you marry me? Why did you make me believe that you loved me all these years?"

The words felt like shards scraping against her throat, threatening to choke her. Tears seared in her eyes, begging to be released, but she refused to let them fall. She yearned to appear whole, even while being shattered.

Throughout their years together, Lucille believed Lucas was the only man who truly loved her, accepting her past without judgment. He had pursued her relentlessly, promising to be the only one to cherish her. Though initially fearful, she was moved by his unwavering dedication and reciprocated his love with all her might.

When Lucas's erectile dysfunction had become a challenge, and the prospect of having children seemed distant, Lucille stood by his side, understanding and supporting him. She had tirelessly worked for his recovery, never suspecting that Lucas was nothing more than a deceitful liar. He had skillfully played the part, weaving an illusion of love while secretly despising her and seeing her as nothing but filth.

Lucas's face contorted with anger at her question. A scornful sneer twisted his lips as he venomously retorted, "Why? It's because Grandpa took a liking to you! I never wanted to marry you, but he threatened to disown me. If it weren't for you, I could openly carry on my affair and spare my lover from three years of suffering!"

His words struck Lucille like a dagger to the heart. The mockery in his voice reverberated in her ears, causing her to feel a wave of disbelief and betrayal. He looked at her with sheer contempt before snatching a document from his desk and flinging it in her face, his demand ringing with malice, "Sign it."

Stunned, Lucille stood frozen, her gaze falling upon the scattered papers on the floor. And there it was, the damning title that confirmed her worst fears.

[Divorce Agreement]

Had she not been leaning against the wall, she would have crumpled to the floor under the weight of the revelation. A sickening pit formed in her stomach, and her heart throbbed with pain as though it were being crushed in a vice. She had loved Lucas with all her being, dedicating herself to his happiness. Yet, all her efforts had been in vain because the husband she thought she knew was nothing more than an illusion.

Their cherished moments together now felt like a cruel mirage, transforming into a living nightmare from which she desperately longed to awaken. But no matter how hard she pinched herself, praying for it all to be a terrible dream, the painful reality before her eyes remained unchanged.

Lucille swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze shifted to the bulging duvet on the bed. Her voice grew sharp as she questioned, "Who is she?"

Her words hung in the air, carrying the weight of judgment. The figure beneath the covers visibly trembled as if afraid of being exposed to Lucille's piercing scrutiny—a sense of foreboding washed over her.

"Rica?" Lucille called out, her tone perfunctory, and the hidden figure on the bed grew still. She turned her gaze to Lucas, whose surreal expression confirmed her haunting suspicion. At that moment, she knew her intuition had been right all along.

Taking a sharp breath, Lucille felt like salt had been rubbed into her wounds as if something were devouring her heart. The pain was so excruciating that her body felt numb. She stared at them blankly, watching Lucas sit on the bed's edge, gently coaxing his woman.

"Baby, we can't hide your identity forever. You can come out now since she has already figured it out."

The words struck Lucille like a dagger, each syllable carving deeper into her shattered heart. The revelation had unfolded before her, unraveling the web of deceit that had trapped her. She was left standing in the wreckage of her once-happy marriage, her world crumbling around her.

As Lucas pulled down the sheets, Lucille's gaze fell upon Larica's tear-streaked face. She looked pitiable, like a fragile rabbit, with her trembling figure and eyes shimmering with sadness.

"Lucy, I'm sorry... It's all my fault because I couldn't control my love for him. Please don't blame Lucas. I'll accept whatever you decide..." Larica apologized in a voice quivering with guilt and self-blame.

A profound stillness settled over Lucille as she regarded her identical twin. By just one minute, Larica, her younger sister, bore a striking resemblance to her. However, one feature set Larica apart—a vermilion mole nestled above her eyebrow. People often found it endearing, claiming it added to her innocent charm, captivating the hearts of those around her.

"Do you truly love Lucas, or have you been stealing from me out of habit?" Lucille asked, her tone laced with a hint of lightness.

Startled by Lucille's question, Larica stared at her with tears streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall.

"I'm deeply sorry, Lucy. I was wrong. You can beat me, scold me, do whatever you want as long as you forgive me..." she cried grievously, as though portraying Lucille as the bully.

Before Lucille could respond, Larica abruptly rose to her feet and closed the distance between them. She grasped Lucille's hand and slapped her face, leaving a bright red palm print and a few scratch marks. Unintentionally, Lucille's nails had grazed her in the process.

Yet, the incident didn't seem unintentional from every angle. As Lucas witnessed the scratches on Larica's cheeks, fury coursed through his veins. Without warning, he forcefully yanked Lucille's arm and threw her aside, his actions fueled by anger.

Hurriedly, he checked on Larica, and his face contorted with distress. "Baby, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Larica shook her head, though she fought back tears and offered a brave smile. "I'm fine. Please check on my sister and see if she's hurt," she responded, feigning vulnerability.

Lucas scrutinized her, perplexed by her selflessness, even in her own pain. His heart ached for this kind-hearted woman who remained strong for the sake of others.

'Lucille is a ruthless woman. Why does she still care so much about her?' he wondered, his fist clenched as he turned his gaze to Lucille with a menacing glare.

"It seems my impression of you all these years was completely wrong. I used to believe you were knowledgeable, virtuous, and gentle, but I was mistaken. You're a malicious woman, Lucy. Why are you blaming Rica when she's done nothing wrong? I was the one who fell in love with her first and pursued her relentlessly until she agreed to be with me. If you're angry, direct your anger at me. Rica is your sister, and you shouldn't harm her. But family ties don't matter to you, do they? Look at what you've done. Slapping her wasn't enough; you had to hurt her face?" he spat out his words sharply, without pause.

Lucille could only stare blankly at them as she struggled to rise from the floor. The force Lucas had pushed her had caused her head to collide with the doorknob, leaving a throbbing pain at the back of her skull. Despite the dizziness, she couldn't miss a single word Lucas uttered. An overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and hurt consumed her. Larica's feigned concern and Lucas's absurd accusations devastated her.

She wanted to lash out, to refute their claims, but then she noticed Larica silently mouthing the words, "You owe me."

Understanding her sister's meaning, Lucille swallowed her retort and resignedly lowered her head.

Meanwhile, Lucas misinterpreted her silence as an absence of words. A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he urged, "Hurry up and sign the divorce agreement. I don't want to lay eyes on you for another minute."

Larica held onto Lucas's arm, her eyes pleading and filled with tears. "Lucas, all of this started because of me. Please, give us a moment so I can explain to my sister?"

His arrogant expression softened, concern etched across his face. "But Rica, I can't let you talk to her alone. Just look at what she did to you," Lucas said, gently caressing Larica's delicate cheek, marked with the evidence of Lucille's harsh treatment.

"Lucas, she is still my sister. She deserves an explanation from me, at least," Larica leaned into his touch, assuring him. "I trust her, so please, leave us for a moment," she insisted.

Lucas sighed, his eyes still focused on Larica's cheek. Reluctantly, he turned to glare at Lucille, his wife of three years. He approached her with a cold, distant look as if she were a stranger.

"Lucille Powell, don't you dare lay your hands on her again. I will take action if you do," Lucas warned her, his tone devoid of warmth.

The man who had once cared for her now stood in her sister's embrace. Lucille found it strangely amusing to see the familiar face she had been married to for three years treating her with such indifference.

The irony was not lost on Lucille. Despite being with Lucas for all those years, she had never truly understood the kind of man he was. Looking back, she felt foolish for her naivety.

Once Lucas finally left the room, Larica's previously pitiful expression faded away. She composed herself, adjusting her hair and wearing a proud smile before her sister. Larica lifted the blanket, revealing her alluring and seductive figure. She didn't waste a moment to point out the fresh marks on her body, mocking Lucille.

"I bet you had no idea just how passionate and vigorous Lucas can be," she smirked, trailing her fingers along the marks. "I mean, now you know for sure. He's remarkable in many ways, especially when he makes me feel like the happiest woman in the world." Larica crossed her legs and flashed a smug smile. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Lucy. You did your best to keep Lucas healthy and strong for your sister," she cooed, taunting Lucille further.

And she was right. Lucille had cared for Lucas for years, but she had never imagined he would use his strength to hurt her sister. It was a revolting thought that made Lucille feel sick to her stomach.

"Ew..." Lucille couldn't help but comment as she covered her mouth, the urge to vomit overwhelming her.

After a few seconds, Lucille turned to face Larica, her eyes hinting at a mix of sympathy and sorrow. "Do you find all of this truly fulfilling, Rica? Since we were seventeen, you've always had this habit of taking things from me. No matter what I liked, you would always claim it for yourself. And now, my brother-in-law? My husband? Is this truly what makes you happy?"

After hearing Lucille's statement, Larica's face turned pale instantly. Lucille hadn't intended to expose her sister, but she couldn't help feeling deeply hurt and surprised by what had just transpired.

Lucille and Larica had always been inseparable as twins, but their lives were tragic when they were seventeen. They were blackmailed and kidnapped, and during their captivity, Larica was subjected to humiliation and forced acts. When they finally managed to escape, Lucille noticed a change in Larica. Her sister began to enjoy stealing things from her, distraught Lucille.

Whenever Larica committed these acts of theft, she would play the victim, pretending to be innocent. Their parents fell for Larica's manipulations and consistently sided with her, punishing Lucille instead, even though she had done nothing wrong. Lucille endured the pain silently, considering it mere flesh wounds, but her parents' attitude was profoundly unfair.

Three years later, when the kidnappers were apprehended for another crime, they confessed to their heinous acts against the Powell Twins. The news spread like wildfire in Asheville City, and the mainstream media became involved. Reporters from various news agencies speculated about which of the Powell Twins had been the victim of the assault.

The media circus turned their misery into a spectacle, trying to guess which twin was more likely to have suffered assault based on their personalities and appearances. Driven by the pressure of the press and their desire to preserve Larica's reputation, their parents forced Lucille to admit that she was the one who had been assaulted.

Still, Lucille knew this was not right, no matter how much she cared for Larica. But their parents convinced her that, like the older sister, she had failed to protect Larica when she needed her the most and bore responsibility for what had happened to her younger sister. Sacrificing her reputation was the only way she could make amends.

Larica gritted her teeth and glared at her sister, her eyes filled with malice and wickedness. "If you hadn't pretended to faint, I wouldn't have endured that humiliation and assault by the kidnappers," she spat, her words laced with bitterness. "Lucy, remember this. No matter what happens, you owe me."

Even after all these years, those words echoed in Lucille's mind, a constant reminder that she had failed to protect her sister. She couldn't remember how many times Larica had hurled those words at her, but each time she did, Lucille would succumb to guilt and fall into the same emotional trap.

Lucille watched her sister's expression, her heart heavy with frustration and sorrow. "Rica, please, try to understand. I wanted to save you. I did. But we were both young and helpless. The kidnapper also knocked me out. What could I possibly have done after that?" Lucille reasoned, hoping to make her sister see the truth.

"I was willing to bear all the pain for you back then, Rica," Lucille continued, her voice filled with sincerity as she delved into the memories of that fateful year.

On the day of the incident, Lucille's classmates played a cruel prank on her, tricking her into eating mangoes despite her severe allergy. Her face swelled up, and she returned home looking terrible since she had no medication. This condition made the kidnappers overlook her and choose to harm Larica instead. But no matter how many times Lucille recounted the truth, nobody believed her.

She could still vividly recall the horrifying moments when the kidnappers started to harm her sister. Lucille had done everything in her power to protect Larica. She had rushed towards them, desperately trying to stop the kidnappers from doing further harm. But due to her weakened state, she immediately lost consciousness when one of the kidnappers slapped her.

Since then, Larica had always insisted that Lucille had feigned unconsciousness, blaming her for the terrible fate she had endured. "No need to sugarcoat your words. We both know that it was me who was hurt and not you. You will never understand how terrible it was," Larica coldly declared, refusing to acknowledge Lucille's perspective.

Lucille closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the years of pain and misunderstanding between them. They had been trapped in this cycle of accusation and blame for far too long. She knew her words would never penetrate the walls that Larica had built around herself.

"You say I owe you," Lucille whispered, her voice tinged with resignation. She reached for the pen and the folder containing the divorce agreement, her gaze steady on Larica.

"Will you finally find happiness if I give you my husband?"

She had fulfilled Larica's demands for years, willingly accepting punishment and taking the blame to protect her sister. She had always prioritized Larica's well-being above her own. She thought this day would be no different, and she would gladly choose her sister over herself as she had done before.

"Yes," Larica answered without a second thought. "I adore him and am happy to be with him." Larica looked serious in answering Lucille's question. But she knew she would hesitate if her older sister asked the same question before. However, at that moment, it was different. Larica was sure that she loved Lucas more than her life.

Despite having to decide with a heavy heart, Lucille willingly lets her sister have her way.

Lucille knew that Lucas was a bit of a neat freak like her. So she didn't expect Lucas to cheat on her. But even if the woman he cheated on her with weren't Larica, she wouldn't take Lucas back.

She couldn't tolerate a cheating man. She had pride and self-respect. She wouldn't waste her time on someone that no longer wanted her. Even if that meant all their years together would go down the drain.

'One last time,' Lucille thought before sighing and facing her sister.

"Alright. I'll give Lucas to you. But I warn you, Rica, this will be the last time. I will never let you have your way again without a fight," Lucille stated intently.

The Reed Family was in an absolute mess after the death of Lucas' grandfather. Many of his relatives had been eyeing the Reed Group for a long time. The entire clan must be fighting over the company at this moment. If anything, Larica saved her from that mess and signed herself in for their circus.

Regardless, given Larica's temperament, Lucille still worried about her. But this would be a good chance for Larica to realize the consequences of her actions, the price she had to pay for taking advantage of other people.

Knowing that she had won over Lucille again, Larica's previously pale expression turned bright. Finally, Lucas belonged to her. She beamed and proudly smiled as if she had accomplished something remarkable.

Then she grimly forewarned, "Don't worry, sister. From now on, you won't have anything for me to take."