In the days that followed, with Amanda’s company every night, Godfery quickly regained his vitality. Occasionally bored, he would invite a few good friends over to play games.

“Godfery, Amanda must have feelings for you. During the year you were in a coma, she kept traveling to England every few days. She even made a wish, saying that if you could wake up, she would divorce her husband for you!”

Horace happened to walk by and heard this, his heart feeling like it had been sliced open.

With Amanda absent, Godfery didn’t bother to pretend, coldly calling out to him, “Horace, how did you make this coffee? It looks bad, disgusting to look at.”

Horace approached expressionlessly, intending to take the coffee away, but his wrist was suddenly twisted by someone.

“What's your attitude? Being Godfery's nanny, if you make him feel sick, you should kneel and apologize. And you're still acting like you’re somebody here!”

Receiving a glance from Godfery, one of his friends shouted angrily.

Before Horace could react, the other person grabbed his neck, and a full cup of hot coffee was poured over him.

“Stop!”

But the next moment, a sudden female voice broke the standoff. Amanda had just entered the house when she saw the scene. She rushed over with a cold expression, shielding Horace behind her.

“Who gave you permission to bully him?”

As soon as her shout fell, Godfery, who had been watching with a smile, suddenly feigned weakness. He smoothly clutched his stomach: “Amanda! It’s not like that!”

“Don’t blame my friend. He did it for me... Horace, he intentionally added dairy products to my coffee. My stomach hurts so much.”

Amanda’s movements suddenly froze. She looked at Horace with a scrutinizing gaze, her expression growing icy.

Dairy products?

“Horace, I clearly told you that Godfery is lactose intolerant!”

It was funny how she went from protecting him to abandoning him ,which just few seconds when Godfery told a lie.

“I didn't!” Coffee dripped from his hair, and Horace's eyes stung: “He's faking it.”

But his explanation was drowned out by Godfery's flawless acting, plus his friends' exaggerations...

Amanda finally lost her temper, smashing the coffee cup on the table, then helped Godfery to his feet and snapped, “Horace, stay home and reflect on your actions!”

But Godfery was clearly unsatisfied, his tone stubborn for no apparent reason: “I’m not going to the hospital. No one has ever dared to treat me this way before, and I can’t stand it. Amanda, just let me die in pain.”

Godfery threw a tantrum like a spoiled child, refusing to go to the hospital, until Amanda finally lost her temper and coldly called for the bodyguards.

“Take the gentleman to the backyard and lock him up!”

Locked up was the punishment set for bodyguards of the Young Family who had committed a principled error.

That two-square-meter fully enclosed dark room would continuously release various insects and ants...

Horace struggled under the bodyguards' restraint.

“No! I don't want to go!”

But no matter how much he screamed, the figure supporting Godfery out of the villa never looked back.

For a full 24 hours, Horace huddled in the corner of the dark room, enduring the burning itch on his skin.

The sensation of insects crawling over his skin nearly drove him mad!

No matter how much he screamed in pain, the bodyguards arranged by Amanda stood outside the door, ignoring him.

Until the moment he lost consciousness, he felt the large red scars on his body, numb to the point of forgetting what pain felt like, with only a single tear trickling down his cheek.

He closed his eyes, letting despair drain the last remnants of love...

“Horace, wake up, please wake up!”

The familiar female voice snapped him back to consciousness, and Horace suddenly opened his eyes.

What he saw was the crystal chandelier in the guest room.

Amanda, sitting beside the bed, sighed in relief when she saw him awake, her tone softening: “I know you're angry, Horace, but you were wrong. No matter what, you shouldn't have harmed Godfery.”

Facing her accusations upon waking, Horace couldn't help but sneer, “How can you trust him so much?”

Amanda frowned, feeling inexplicably impatient. “Enough. I've already had the priest pray for your mother. Don't cause any more trouble. Right now, Godfery's condition is the real problem...”

“He's always had the bad temper. This time, you scared him, and they couldn't find the cause of his illness. He couldn't sleep all night. You must pay for it...Godfery hopes you can make a handmade bracelet for him.Use the thorns cause he love the color. ”

Horace froze.

So, she had been watching over him, hoping he would wake up, just for Godfery's sake?

His hoarse voice trembled with emotion: “Amanda, can't you see what I look like?”

His raised arm was covered in large swollen patches, with not a single inch of normal skin visible, and the deep bloodstains were too gruesome to behold.

But Amanda remained silent for a moment before coldly declaring, “Godfery hasn't rested all day—the beads must be polished tonight!”

“What if I say no?” Horace's eyes stung with tears, but there were none left to shed. “Are you going to lock me in the isolation room again and let those poisonous insects bite me to death?!”

Amanda couldn't bear to look at his miserable expression and could only close her eyes helplessly.

“Horace, bear with it. Once Godfery fully recovers and I repay his life-saving debt, we'll be just like before.”

She seemed to be making a promise, then placed several thorn branches as thick as fingers on the bedside table, her demeanor returning to calm: “Remember, if you don't do it, the bodyguards will help you. ”

The guest room door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Several bodyguards stood dutifully by the bedside: Sir, don't waste time. The lady said you need to remove every thorn from the branches with your fingers and personally sand each bead with sandpaper."

That night, Horace was dragged out of bed by the bodyguards and didn't close his eyes for a moment.

His fingers were pierced with blood holes, and under the abrasion of the sandpaper, they became cracked and bleeding. Every movement caused excruciating pain.

Finally, at dawn, a satisfied chuckle echoed from the master bedroom: “Amanda, I love this bracelet. ”

Amanda responded gently: “That’s good. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay with you.”

Horace curled up in the corner of the bed, clutching his bloodied fingers, watching the blood drip onto the bed, his eyes stinging with pain yet tinged with a bittersweet smile.

In the past, if he was pricked by a plant stem and bled, Amanda would feel so guilty she’d berate herself for hours. Now, she could hold the bracelet stained red with his blood and use it to amuse another man.

Amanda, Amanda, you still say we’ll be the same as before?

How could we be the same?

My love for you had clearly been exhausted...

The next day, Godfery slept soundly thanks to the bracelet and, in a good mood, dragged Amanda out for a walk.

Horace only found out through his online posts that they had gone to Greece to watch the sunset.

The photo showed the white walls of Santorini, with Godfery’s hand tightly held by a woman’s slender fingers, accompanied by the caption: “The tenth year I’ve loved you, finally fulfilled...”

Horace stared at the photo, feeling an emptiness in his heart as if a breeze had swept through it, yet surprisingly no longer feeling any pain.

He silently removed the ring from his ring finger, then went to the garden, uprooting every plant in the flower bed, cutting them into pieces, and tossing them into the trash bin.

After finishing this, he opened his computer, logged into the account filled with negative reviews, set a scheduled post for a month later, and wrote: By the time this letter is sent, I will likely no longer be here..."

The planned “suicide note” took him a long time to write. As he typed the final period, the sound of a car pulling up echoed in the courtyard. Amanda hurried into the villa in her high heels.

“Why did you destroy those plants, Horace? You loved them the most. I planted them for you myself back then.”

For some reason, her face was pale, and there were traces of blood on her sleeves.

Horace looked at her calmly, asked no questions, and simply closed the laptop with a click: “The roots are rotten. Let's plant something else in the future.”

Hearing him mention “the future,” Amanda suppressed her unease: “Alright, I'll plant something else for you in the future.”

On the evening Amanda returned, there was a charity dinner in the circle that required Horace to attend.

Before the Rolls-Royce drove to the banquet venue in the evening, it first stopped at a styling salon.

Amanda got out of the car to greet the guest. Godfery, dressed in an expensive custom-made suit, but stood there motionless.

The woman opened the back door awkwardly: “Horace, look...”

But before she could finish, Horace got out of the car without a word and sat directly next to the driver in the front passenger seat.

The charity dinner was held at a mansion estate. In the first-floor banquet hall, the light and shadow intertwined under the enamel-painted chandeliers.

When Godfery appeared holding Amanda's hand, he instantly became the center of attention, and a group of young men from the circle gathered around them.

“Godfery, Ms. Young is so kind to you! You're the first person in the world to wear this custom-made suit!”

“Yeah, I heard that she was abroad a few days ago and made a bet with a wealthy Parisian businessman to race him for this handmade suit, and she even injured her arm in the process?”

So she was injured while trying to get the handmade suit for Godfery...

As they chatted, Godfery sighed helplessly, “Don’t mention it. I felt so sorry for her—she bled so much. But I just said I liked it, and she...”

“Haha, she clearly loves you so much she’d risk her life for you.”

The others chimed in with flattery, and someone sneered at Horace: “Some people wear five-year-old outdated rags and think they've defied fate. In reality, they're not even worthy of tying our Master's shoes!”

Horace glanced at his black suit, which Amanda had had someone prepare for him.

But he forced himself to endure it, clenching his fists tightly.

Until the banquet began, there was a charity auction segment in the middle. Though they were just trinkets Godfery looked down on, Amanda kept bidding generously to save his face.

The only item was a men’s ring, but she was too late, and it was snatched up by another bidder.

But Godfery just had to have it. He frowned at Amanda: “Amanda, I really like that ring. If I don’t get it, I won’t be able to eat tonight.”

With just one sentence, Amanda approached the buyer after the auction ended: “Miss Bell, name your price. Whether it's ten times or a hundred times the original price, I have no objections.”

The buyer burst into laughter: “Ms. Young, you should know my rules. I don't care about the money. I just haven't had any creative inspiration lately and happen to be in need of a male model. Why don't we do this...”

Horace overheard their conversation while using the restroom.

“Your husband looks quite suitable to me. If he could serve as my human model once, I'll sell you that ring at the original price.”

Amanda's expression darkened: “I'll consider it.”

At that moment, Horace felt as though he had been plunged into an ice cellar.

What did she mean by... “consider it”?

Miss Bell was notorious in the industry for her wild lifestyle. It was said she had a peculiar fetish for photography, especially for capturing models being tortured and bleeding in incredibly gory scenes...

Horace clenched his fists tightly and turned to leave quickly.

But before long, he was pulled aside in a corner of the banquet hall.

“Horace, I have something I want to discuss with you.”

Amanda handed him a glass of fruit wine she had personally mixed, trying to be charming: “You've seen it too—Godfery's condition has improved a lot lately. Once he recovers further, he can move out. But... he's set his sights on that ring today.”

“But the buyer said that if you agree to be his photography model once, the ring can be released. What do you think...”

“Impossible!” Horace pushed her away forcefully: “Amanda, what do you treat me for?!”

A wave of bitterness washed over him, and Horace tried to suppress the surging emotions, downing the fruit wine in his hand in one gulp.

But as soon as he stepped out of the banquet hall, his head spun in a dizzying haze, and he stumbled backward, unable to control himself.

That glass of wine... there was something wrong with it...

In his dazed state, he vaguely felt Amanda's bodyguards catch him. Her muffled voice, filled with reluctance, whispered, “I'm sorry, Horace. This is the last time.”