That night, Zara burned with fever.

She dragged herself to the door, barely managing to push it open before whispering to the guard posted outside, “I have a fever... please get the doctor…”

The man stiffened, visibly uncomfortable. “Ma’am, please don’t make this hard for us. Mr. Fowler is spending the night with Miss Lawson and made it clear—you're not allowed to leave your room under any circumstance.”

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Every last drop of strength in her spine turned cold.

She thought back to their wedding night.

Her bridesmaids had playfully barricaded the door, teasing Conrad and refusing to let him inside. Without hesitation, he shoved in a gift box containing ten million dollars in cash and promised everything they demanded and more.

He even wrote a vow by hand:

“I, Conrad Fowler, swear that I will love only Zara Fowler in this life. If I ever break this promise, may I lose the one I love most forever.”

In the end, he knelt on one knee, slid the diamond ring onto her finger and kissed her hand over and over like she was the most precious thing in the world.

That night, they became husband and wife in every way.

The room had glowed in soft, golden light. He had fumbled nervously, whispering, “Zara…I can’t find it.”

“Don’t laugh! It’s my first time too.”

“Zara… you’re the only woman for me. The only one now and forever.”

But the warmth of those memories had faded into nothing.

Now, Zara sat slumped against her locked bedroom door, her body shaking with fever and heartbreak.

Conrad was probably tangled in sheets with Wrena Lawson right now. Why would he even remember that she existed?

Suddenly, a man’s voice roared from the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing, idiots? Go get the doctor now. The best.” Conrad stroded in panic. “I swear, if anything happens to Zara, I’ll bury all of you with her!”

In her delirium, she fell into a warm embrace.

She tried to open her eyes, but sweat stung them too badly. 

It must be a dream. Conrad had forgotten their love. There’s no way he panicked for her.

Zara fell unconscious for seven days. When she finally woke up, her throat burned like fire.

As she opened her eyes, she saw a tall, striking figure at the door. 

“Didn’t they say she’d wake up within a week? Why is Zara still out cold?"

“She should wake up soon,” said a different voice. “Sir, if you care about your wife this much, why fake amnesia and put her through all this?"

Zara's blood froze.

Conrad faked his amnesia?

She heard him sigh, “Wrena saved my life overseas. If I hadn’t pretended to forget everything, with Zara’s temperament, she never would've allowed me to keep a mistress. This is the only way.”

“Actually, I had her parent rescued. Her father broke his leg and her mother was disfigured. Don’t tell Zara any of this yet.”

Zara nearly choked.

Her parents were still alive.

As soon as Conrad left, she tried to get out of bed to find them, but her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor.

“Zara, the doctor said your body’s still weak. You need nutrient fluids. I studied medicine abroad. Let me help.”

Wrena had appeared out of nowhere and forced her back onto the bed.

Without hesitation, she plunged a long needle straight into Zara’s arm.

Someone yelped. 

Zara’s vision blurred. Before she could even react, Wrena staggered backward, then slapped herself across the face.

“I’m trying to help you, Zara. Why are you hitting me?”

A moment later, Conrad stormed in, scooped Wrena into his arms and shot Zara a vicious glare.

“You jealous woman. I was the one who wanted Wrena around. Why are you lashing out at her?”

Zara stammered, “I didn’t do anything…”

“Mr. Fowler, don't blame her,” Wrena said, tears brimming in her eyes, though triumph glinted beneath them. “She just loves you too much to let any other woman near you. Still... even if my family went bankrupt, I’ve never been humiliated like this before.”

“So what do you want?”

“Would have the maids slap her ten times, okay?”

Zara never imagined the man who once swore to love her forever would now crush her dignity just to defend another woman.

The moment he nodded, something inside her shattered.

“Conrad,” she said in disbelief, "we’ve been married three years. Are you really going to let them hit me for that mis–”

Her voice cut into a scream.

“Forgive me, ma’am!”

The maid slapped her hard, again and again. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her face swelling fast and her started to blur.

While the world spinning around her, Zara thought she saw Conrad lift a hand. “That’s enough. Stop—”

“Mr. Fowler, my face hurts so much. What if it’s scarred? Please call a doctor…”

Conrad snapped his attention back to Wrena.

Without a second thought, he picked her up and ordered the family doctor over.

Zara crumpled to the floor, coughing up blood after ten slaps landed on her face. 

The pain was excruciating.

But the it didn’t compare to the agony in her chest.

Once, when a maid accidentally broke a bowl and a shard cut her hand, Conrad had summoned a dozen experts to treat her. He’d even made every staff member go through strict screening, with one rule above all: her’s safety comes first.

But now, that same man stood by as they beat her.

His love was too heavy to bear.

For the next few days, Zara stayed in bed to heal. She didn’t leave the house, barely stepped outside her room.

She secretly searched for news of her parents and finally managed to contact them.

After seeing them, she returned home to find Wrena bossing around the staff, throwing out her belongings.

She spotted a lucky charm among the tossed-out items—one she had knelt for twelve hours to pray for.

“Who says you can to touch my stuff, Wrena? Do you have any idea how important that charm is to me?”

“Oh, really?” Wrena said coolly. “You know, you can’t always rely on lucky charm for safety. Try to rely on yourself once. Even with this lucky charm, you’re not always safe, are you?”

Right in front of her, Wrena ripped the charm in two.

Zara lunged at her.

What happened next was shocking: Wrena tumbled down the stairs and sobbed pitifully.

“Mrs. Fowler, I only wanted to stay here a few days. Why would you push me off the stairs? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

“It wasn’t me! She fell on her own!”

Zara turned toward Conrad, who had just rushed in, tears spilling down her face.

She reached for him, but he shoved her away.

She lost her footing and tumbled down the stairs.

“Wrena! Are you hurt? I’ll get you to the hospital.”

He scooped up Wrena, not even glancing at Zara.

Panicked, Zara cried out, “There are cameras! The house has surveillance! Just check and you’ll see she did it on purpose!”

“So what if she did?” Conrad snapped. “Why didn’t you catch her?”

“If you could be a little more tolerant, Wrena wouldn’t have to keep hurting herself just to get my attention!”

His angry voice echoed as he walked out the door.

Zara lay at the foot of the stairs, her back throbbing with pain. Cold sweat drenched her clothes.

She thought her heart would ache.

But all she felt… was how ridiculous it all was.

Her husband actually thought it was her fault—for not letting him keep a mistress.

She was wrong for marrying him in the first place.

Zara stayed crumpled on the floor for over twenty minutes.

Just a month ago, Conrad had held her on the couch, brushing soft kisses across her brow. "Zara, you're all I need in this life. My heart is only so big—it can’t hold anyone else."

But now, he said she was the one who couldn’t tolerate others.

Her lower back throbbed in pain, but she forced herself to the hospital, got checked out, picked up medication and had just left when a group of nurses hurried past her.

“They say Mr. Fowler's handing out cash in the patient wing! His wife fell down the stairs and refuses to take her meds. Whoever gets her to take them wins a million bucks. Let’s give it a shot!”

“That’s not all! I heard he flew in the top surgeons in the country. I just want to see the drama.”

Someone bumped into Zara. She nearly fell but was caught just in time by the doctor who had examined her earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. With pain like that, no one came with you? What kind of family lets you go through this alone?”

She wanted to say her husband was with another woman. But the words wouldn’t come out.

That night, she returned home, lifted her shirt and saw her back covered in deep purple bruises. She tried to apply the medicine herself, but her hands couldn’t reach all the right spots.

She was still struggling when the door suddenly opened.

“You’re home? Wait—you’re hurt?” Conrad’s brows furrowed when he saw the marks on her back.

Before she could speak, he walked over and took the medicine from her.

“How could you be so careless? I told you—leave things like this to me…”

His gentle tone was so familiar, it caught her off guard. Her throat tightened.

Conrad realized he’d slipped up.

Just then, a maid called out from the hallway, "Mr. Fowler, Miss Lawson's bags are packed. She’s waiting. She said she’s craving some pork rib soup."

Only then did Zara snap out of it. He wasn’t here for her. He was picking up clothes for Wrena.

She bit down hard on her lip.

“Now that you’ve got the medicine on,” he said, “can you move? If so, go make some rib soup. Wrena’s hurt because you pushed her—she needs something nourishing. And your soup is her favorite.”

Zara stared at him, stunned.

Her blood ran cold. Even her fingers trembled.

“You want me… to make soup… for that mistress?”

“She’s not a homewrecker,” Conrad said, annoyed. "Don’t push me, Zara. Otherwise, you’ll regret for what I’m about to have done." 

If Wrena is not a mistress, then what is she?!

Zara wanted to shout it out. 

But she knew—her status, her wealth, even her pride, all came from Conrad.

If he wanted to take it all away, she couldn’t stop him.

Her parents’ fate was proof enough.

She spent three hours cooking that soup. Her back ached like it was being stabbed with needles. She could barely stay on her feet.

When she finally handed the soup over, Conrad said, “See? If you’d just done it, you could’ve spared yourself all the troubles.”

“Don’t worry. Divorce isn’t an option in my family. As long as you behave, no one can take your place.”

The roar of a sports car engine echoed through the villa.

Just like three years ago, when he brought a hundred luxury cars to take her home from the island.

But this time, he left her behind—and went running to someone else.

Zara returned to her room in silence.

She had lived in that house for three years. Every inch of it carried her presence.

The painting in the living room was her favorite. The garden was filled with blue hydrangeas she loved. Her scent lingered in every corner of the bedroom.

Over the next three days, she hired workers to tear out every flower.

She sold every luxury brand from the walk-in closet Conrad had built for her.

She threw out all the perfumes, trinkets and antiques.

The Fowler Family might have never had a divorce.

But no one ever said she couldn’t become a widow.

“Conrad… when you faked your amnesia to fool me, did you ever stop to think what it feels like to be the one who’s been fooled?”