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The others chimed in with flattery, and someone sneered at Horace: “Some people wear five-year-old outdated rags and think they've defied fate.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.

By the time he returned to the villa, it was already past midnight.

On the living room table sat a cake with blown-out candles. Amanda was sitting on the sofa with Godfery, unwrapping gifts.

Seeing Horace soaking wet, his clothes stained with blood, Amanda suddenly stopped what she was doing: “Horace, you... I sent a car to pick you up?”

She was too nervous to mention his injuries, so she quickly got up and grabbed a towel to wipe his hair.

But his overly cold gaze fixed on her, and without a moment's hesitation, he raised his hand—

a harsh slap landed on her face. At that moment, a figure suddenly rushed forward and shielded Amanda.

“Smack!”

With a clear crack, Godfery covered his face and cried out in shock.

“Ah!” A red handprint quickly appeared on his face.

“Godfery, are you okay?”

Amanda rushed to check on him, her fingers trembling as she touched his cheek.

When her fingertips brushed against the rapidly swelling redness, anger surged through her, and she snatched the towel from her hand.

“Horace! I think you've lost your mind!”

The towel whipped across Horace’s forehead with a sharp crack, leaving a bruise where he had been kicked. The pain nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Amanda, I misjudged you,” he murmured, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

“For a meaningless ring, you’re willing to hand me over to someone else to torture me? You’re truly disgusting!”

Amanda froze, her expression betraying her reluctance.

But at that moment, Godfery stepped forward and blocked her with his arms: “I won’t let you speak to Amanda like that. Horace, if you’re angry, if you want to vent or hit someone, take it out on me!”

What a heartfelt display of devotion.

Amanda’s last shred of reluctance was shattered. She gently took Godfrey’s hand: “No need. I’ll handle it.”

She turned her icy gaze toward Horace: “Those photos of you injured, bleeding, and humiliated will be auctioned off in six months. Even if they fetch ten billion or a hundred billion, I’ll buy them back. But Horace, you should never have laid a hand on Godfrey!”

Six months?

But by then, he’ll already be gone.

Horace shrugged indifferently, hearing the words before he went upstairs.

“If you don’t want to be arrested for assault tonight, get out there and kneel in the courtyard right now!”

At midnight, the rain began to fall.

The private doctor’s car pulled into the villa.

The bright headlights illuminated the shadows in the dark night. Horace, supervised by several bodyguards, knelt motionless in the rain.

Two hours later, two overlapping figures appeared on the balcony of the master bedroom, looking down below.

“Amanda, Horace is so pitiful.”

Godfery suddenly spoke, but it was more of a victor’s mockery: I have a wound on my face, so the birthday party will be postponed for a few days. Why don't we invite Horace to come along then? He probably hasn't seen the yacht you gave me yet."

Amanda's gaze was hidden in the shadows: “Alright, you arrange it. Godfery, I'm sorry I didn't protect you well.”

The overly affectionate conversation shattered Horace's final sigh.

Yes, the Amanda who cared for him had died a thousand times over in the past.

He clenched his fists tightly.

A yacht?

Very well, let it be the final resolution.

The kneeling in the rain left a bruise on Horace's knee.

Even days later, the wounds on his body still ached, but he limped his way to the Family Court to obtain two divorce certificates.

When he returned to the villa, the bodyguard's car was already waiting downstairs.

“Sir, Ms. Amanda has asked you to attend Mr. Godfery's birthday party.”

He placed one of the divorce certificates on the bedside table in the master bedroom, then took out the wedding ring he hadn't worn in ages and was escorted by the bodyguard to the banquet.

On the deck of the luxury yacht, gifts of all sizes were piled into small mountains, and the champagne tower reflected brilliant light under the lamps. Elegantly dressed waiters moved among the guests.

“Amanda, you’re watching him too closely! Every time it’s Godfery’s turn, you don’t even let him take a sip of wine!”

At the long table, a group of young men and women from the same social circle were playing a bottle-spinning game with Godfery.

When Horace arrived, the spinning bottle just happened to point directly at him.

Someone burst out laughing.

“Isn’t that a coincidence? The person pointed at by the bottle has to be punished!”