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!"

Lester was still happily daydreaming while I had already tidied up my appearance, ready to leave.

Rosalie, hearing about the eight million dollars, suddenly remembered the matter at hand and pulled me aside, asking urgently, "What's going on? Who passed away? What was the eight million dollars for?"

I glanced at the photo knocked down to the floor by Lester and smirked.

Rosalie hadn't realized it was her mother's funeral.

Although Mona had been staying here, Rosalie assumed it was the funeral of my relative, as this property was bought fully by me.

Rosalie continued to berate me as if I was on Mona's property. "Also, did you ask for Mom's consent before you held the funeral here? Why would you do something so unlucky—"

"Before she passed away, she insisted on a custom box for the remains. Just the box alone cost eight million dollars." I interrupted Rosalie, ignoring her previous question and answering her earlier one instead.

Without a second thought, Rosalie accused me, "Don't you have your own money? Why are you using mine? Things wouldn't have escalated like this if you hadn't used my card."

I understood what Rosalie meant; if I hadn't used her card, Lester wouldn't have seen it, and he wouldn't have come over.

So what?

I got cheated on, was labeled as the homewrecker, and insulted—yet it was my fault?

I looked at Lester, then back at Rosalie before slowly mentioning, "So, you didn't tell him that you're married? You didn't tell him that I'm your legitimate husband and that he's the freeloading boy toy?"

Stunned, Lester looked back and forth between us in disbelief. "How could that be? A country bumpkin like you can't possibly be married to Rosalie. You're out of your mind!"

Rosalie, however, remained silent.

Lester started tugging on her. "What's going on? Rosalie, say something!"

Finally fed up, Rosalie shook Lester's hand off, stood up, and lashed out at me.

"Are you done? Do you have to bring it up now? Boy toy? Homewrecker? Do you really have to put it that way? Don't you know how this will affect Lester's reputation if it gets out? Aren't men all about their reputation? Can't you show Lester some consideration?"

As Rosalie impatiently paced back and forth, she accidentally stepped on the pile of white ash on the floor.

She suddenly noticed the mess on the floor was a broken urn, and, disgusted, shook her shoe, then turned and looked at us, frowning.

Only then did Lester, stammering, recount what had happened.

After listening, Rosalie patted Lester's shoulder in a calming gesture. She then said to me, "Lester went too far this time. I won't make you pay back the eight million dollars. Consider it my compensation to you. But if you dare gossip to others, I won't hold back."

With that, she took Lester's hand, intending to leave.

I stopped them. "Aren't you going to ask who passed away?"

"We may be husband and wife, but there's no love between us anymore. Do I really need to spell it out for you? So no matter who in your family passed away, I have no obligation to pay or personally come over. I'm already showing you respect by being here. Don't push it, Zayne."

Enduring the pain throughout my body, I walked over, picked up the overturned photo, and tossed it in front of Rosalie.

"Take a good look at whose funeral this is and whose urn your lover smashed."