I sighed and put my phone away.

There went another unfortunate soul wounded by love.

If I ever had a chance to help him in the future, I thought, maybe I would.

Rosalie still hadn't replied to any of my messages or calls.

Around me, her relatives had already split into small groups and started a game of cards, leaving piles of peanut shells scattered across the floor.

I sat far away. Seeing they weren't interested in bothering me and were even ignoring me, I relaxed a bit.

The stale, foul smell in the room was starting to give me a headache. Lips pressed into a tight line, I contemplated escaping to the outdoors just as chaos erupted beyond the walls.

Opening the door, I came face-to-face with Lester.

He had a crowd of seven or eight people behind him, a phone in one hand and a stick in the other, looking ready to start trouble.

"Lester?" I was taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

He froze for a moment before he waved his stick around and loudly announced to his group, "This is the guy! How else would he know my name if he wasn't my fiancée's boy toy?"

Before I could react, Lester punched me square in the face.

Exhausted from several sleepless days of funeral preparations, I saw stars as I fell to the ground.

Lester smirked and grabbed me by the collar.

"Hey pretty boy, my fiancée isn't even here yet, and you're already acting all weak and innocent!"

With that, he pulled out a small knife from somewhere.

Its sharp edge which grazed the corner of my eye instantly drew blood.

Satisfied at the sight of my blood, he smirked. "You've got the face of a freeloading man. Guess it's that face that's got my fiancée hooked, huh?"

Before I could even process what was happening, he swung the knife at my face again.

"Let's see if any rich lady would want you when I'm done with that face!"

Having been caught off guard and disfigured while being repeatedly called a pretty boy, I eventually lost my temper. I got to my feet and landed a solid punch, sending Lester sprawling onto the ground.

Lester and I were clearly mismatched in strength. He landed hard on the ground, clutching his face and staring at me in disbelief.

"How dare you hit me? You, a sneaky side piece, dare lay a hand on the real boyfriend! My fiancée is the CEO of Clarke Group! And you, a country bumpkin living out here in the boonies, dare mooch off Rosalie? Are you tired of living?"

It dawned on me then—his so-called fiancée was actually my legal wife, Rosalie. At first, I thought Lester had mistaken me for someone else, but now it was clear he had the right person. The real irony was that he was the very sneaky side piece he was accusing me of being.

Trying to avoid further conflict, especially with a funeral underway, I decided to calmly suggest, "There's a funeral going on. It's bad luck to cause trouble here. Why don't you leave, and we'll deal with this after it's over?"

Lester froze, finally noticing the house's setup. There was a portrait hanging in the living room, a small, diamond-encrusted urn shining on the table beneath it.

The relatives around us had paused their card game to watch the scene unfold with curious expressions.

Growing more nervous, Lester raised his stick defensively. "Stay back! This guy seduced my fiancée; I'm just doing what's right! If any of you come closer, I'll take you all on!"

The group of older ladies, however, stayed put. They clearly showed no intention to set the record straight about my identity.

After a long pause, Lester suddenly seemed to understand something and began laughing, pointing at me.

Lester sneered. "You pathetic, worthless leech. Even your family doesn't stand with you. Who's going to help you now? You're an embarrassment to all men!"

Lester glanced at the memorial photo, and then at the scattered gifts in the house. He scoffed, "That photo must be of your mother, right? And all these gifts are probably from Rosalie.

"You're living off the dead. Don't you have any shame? Your whole family's a bunch of parasites. Don't think for a second you'll get a penny from my fiancée even if someone's dead!"

With that, he directed his group to smash everything in sight. Only then did I realize Lester had brought over two or three dozen people, each one holding a club or stick.

As the memorial photo crashed to the ground, glass shards scattered across the floor. My newly purchased porcelain vases, each worth tens of thousands, toppled one by one, sending sharp fragments flying and cutting into my legs.

I wanted to speak up to stop them, but seeing the recently installed security cameras on the wall, I held my tongue.

I waved subtly to the bodyguards waiting nearby, signaling them to hold back unless absolutely necessary. Then, turning to Lester, I gave him a slight smirk.

"Lester, just a heads-up, the damages you're causing here are well over a million. But hey, if you're ready to cover it, keep going."

Lester looked at me like I was an idiot. "Acting tough, are we? All that money comes from my fiancée anyway. What's it to you?"

"I'll break whatever I want! What are you going to do about it? Rosalie is happy to spend on me! I'll keep breaking them!"

Seeing no one stepping in to stop him, Lester grew bolder. He motioned for his men to pin me down before he mentioned in a voice dripping with contempt, "Tell you what. If you get on your knees right now, in front of everyone, and beg me for forgiveness, I might consider letting you go pay your final respects to your mother. Otherwise, you'll just have to watch her witness you getting beaten to a pulp."

I was immobilized as I was held down by a dozen sticks. As I weighed my options, I fixed my gaze on Lester.

"If Rosalie cheated, you should take it up with her. Why come after me?"

At this, Lester's expression changed, a flicker of resentment clouding his gaze. "Rosalie's just too soft-hearted to say no to anyone. How is any of this her fault? It's your fault. If you hadn't selfishly drained her account of that eight million, she would have bought me a new car by now! It's your fault she was humiliated at the dealership when she couldn't pay! You'd better return the money!"

As soon as he finished, a hail of blows rained down on me.

Several strikes hit my stomach, leaving me gasping and nearly stumbling as my face paled.

Lester's grin widened. "That's more like it. Now you look exactly like the good-for-nothing leech you are. Smile for the camera. I'll send a picture of you to all the rich ladies out there. Maybe one of them will take a liking to you."

Hearing this, the onlookers smirked, some even pulling out their phones to snap pictures.

My mind began to reel, memories surging back.

The same thing happened a few years ago. Mona and the villagers had treated me the same way. And now, at her funeral, I was once again being humiliated like this.

Anger exploded within me, propelling me into action. Fueled by rage, I fought back, fending off seven or eight people, taking down each one who came at me.

The scene was chaotic.

After Lester was knocked down, he took a few solid punches himself.

Clutching his face, he screamed, "Help! Help! He's trying to kill me! If I die here, none of you in this village will be safe!"

Hearing this, the middle-aged men and women playing cards in the corner finally started inching over, hesitantly watching us.

I didn't know where I found the strength, but I fought with a frenzy, keeping ten or so people at bay.

Lester, terrified, held up a wad of cash and shouted, "I have money! I'll give 20 thousand dollars to whoever pins down that pretty boy!"

Almost instantly, the onlookers charged forward. One of them grabbed a chair and smashed it into my calf. As the metal leg of the chair dug into my flesh, I felt my blood pouring out, draining the force of my punches.

The others piled on, grabbing my hands and kicking my injured legs mercilessly. "Kneel! Didn't you hear us tell you to kneel?"

After I used the last of my strength, I collapsed onto the floor.

Seeing I wouldn't kneel, Lester slowly approached, pressing the sole of his shoe onto my head. "You were fighting ten of us just now, weren't you? How come you're lying on the ground, licking my shoes now?"

Ignoring his taunts, I looked past Lester's sneering face toward the urn on the table.

That eight-million-dollar urn was the very thing that had nearly cost me my life at Lester's hands.

I raised my hand, taunting him with a smile. "So what if you keep throwing fits? Rosalie is willing to spend money on me but wouldn't buy you a car. See that urn? It's worth eight million dollars! Rosalie paid for it in full!"

Lester stared at the urn, disbelief written all over his face. He sprang up in anger. "So you did spend that eight million dollars! Why? Why should my fiancée pay for your family's funeral? You must've planned this with your mom, didn't you?

"You're just trying to squeeze money out of Rosalie! Do you have any idea how hard it is for her to make that kind of money? You're shameless!

"Your family doesn't deserve something so expensive! Who are you to spend Rosalie's money?" Lester cursed while grabbing the custom-made urn from the table and smashing it onto the floor. "I'm doing my fiancée a favor by breaking this. Your whole family will suffer even in death!"

The urn hit the ground, shattering into countless pieces. The agate and emerald pieces embedded in it scattered, and a cloud of fine dust filled the air, making everyone instinctively cover their noses and mouths.

The relatives who had been holding me down froze for a moment. Realizing they would be in big trouble if they stayed any longer, they fled the scene within seconds.

Only Lester remained, yelling with spite. "Worthless piece of trash! You and your mother both deserve to die with nothing left to bury you in!"

"Who are you saying deserves that kind of death?"

Rosalie arrived just as Lester was in the middle of cursing. She stepped into the room, frowning, her whole demeanor tinged with frustration at being forced into the situation.

"Zayne, don't tell me you made up an excuse just to see me. Your mother passed away a long time ago, didn't she?"

Before she even finished speaking, Lester opened his arms and rushed to greet her.

"Baby, you're finally here! This country bumpkin almost beat me to death!"

Rosalie peered at me with clear impatience. "Why did you hit Lester? He doesn't know anything. If you have a problem, come at me."

Lester's eyes lit up at those words, and he clung to Rosalie's arm, whining, "Rosalie, since you work so hard, I'll let this nonsense with the pretty boy slide. Just make him return the eight million dollars to you. If we hurry back now, we can still make it in time to pick up the car!"