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.”

“Click”—

The spotlight suddenly lit up, and Horace opened his eyes in the overly bright light.

He found himself lying in a completely darkened room, his clothes having been completely removed...

Surrounding him were several burly bodyguards, and a chill instantly swept over his entire body.

However, the overwhelming sense of weakness left him unable to rise.

“Mr. Wood, bear with it. We just need to shoot a series of injured, bleeding, battle-damaged-looking photos.”

A woman’s malicious chuckle came from behind the camera: “That’s enough. Go ahead!”

Upon hearing this, the bodyguards not only began to punch and kick him but also pulled out their knives and slashed at him repeatedly, causing blood to gush out instantly...

“You pervert! I'm calling the police! What you're doing is illegal!” he screamed in agony.

“Oh? So are you going to sue me, or your wife?”

The woman sneered, “This estate is my territory. I'm just asking you to sacrifice yourself for art. I promised Amanda I wouldn't touch you beyond taking photos. But if you have other needs...”

“Get out!”

At that moment, Horace felt like a piece of meat to be slaughtered. His naked body was covered in warm blood, staining the soft light cloth beneath him red..... .

Soon, the woman's high heels pressed down on his forehead.

At the same time, the camera's flashes flickered like knife blades. The humiliation and pain made Horace curl up into a ball. After an unknown amount of time, the camera finally shut off.

Horace couldn't even remember how he put his clothes back on. The blood seeping from his wounds had stained his white shirt in a terrifying manner.

His humiliated steps were heavy and slow.

“Mr. Wood, I’ve photographed thousands of male models, but you’re the first married man to be brought here by his own wife.” A mocking chuckle came from behind him.

Horace’s fingers turned white as he gripped the doorknob. He knew this wasn’t the time to confront the other person.

His voice, filled with self-mockery, was resolute: “I’m divorced. She’s no longer my wife..... ."

Behind him, the door finally closed.

Horace trembled uncontrollably from the pain, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to find some warmth.

At that moment, the banquet on the first floor was nearing its end. As he numbly walked out of the hall, he suddenly heard a loud “boom”—

The next second, fireworks bloomed across the sky above the estate.

Sparkling sparks formed clear letters in the sky: “Godfery, happy birthday!”

It turned out to be a surprise prepared by Amanda. After midnight, it was Godfery's birthday...

In the garden not far away, Amanda stood under the fireworks, her eyes filled with deep emotion in the night: Happy birthday, Godfery. Whether it's a suit or a ring, whatever you want, I'll find a way to get it for you."

She spoke as she opened a jewelry box in front of Godfery, revealing the very ring he had traded Horace for...

The surrounding crowd erupted in wild cheers: “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

Before Amanda could react, Godfery leaned down and kissed her...

At that moment, Horace felt a wave of nausea. He began to vomit on the ground, vomiting until tears streamed down his face, vomiting until his heart was filled with nothing but disgust.

When he stood up again, it had started to drizzle. Amanda was holding Godfery's hand and getting into the car.

Soon, the headlights of the Rolls-Royce cut through the rain and drove away from the estate.

On his phone, he received two text messages: “Horace, I have to take Godfery with me first. I've sent a car to pick you up.”

“I know you're upset, but just endure this last month. I'll make it up to you properly.”

Horace calmly deleted the two messages. Without waiting for the car to pick him up, he limped alone into the rain.