After nine years of marriage, every time Carmelo brought someone home, he’d toss me a divorce agreement.

The 99th time he did this, his threats were as nonchalant as ever.

"Karla’s pregnant, so from now on, you're her nanny—on call day and night to cater to her."

"Pregnancy is tiring; you’ll be making her coffee and giving her massages every day."

"If you refuse, then it's divorce."

In the past, I’d usually shove the papers aside, caving in to his unreasonable demands. But this time, I quietly signed my name.

Carmelo seemed stunned for a moment, then smirked.

"You’d better mean it this time. Don't come crawling back in three days begging me to change my mind."

His overconfidence was unchanged.

But he didn’t know about my plane ticket for tomorrow.

This time, I was truly letting him go.

---

Just after signing the papers, my phone buzzed.

"Did you sign the divorce papers? Remember, after we visit your parents tomorrow, we're meeting mine. You won’t back out, will you?"

"Too late now; the plane ticket is already booked."

Imagining his voice, I found myself smiling gently.

"I won’t."

I slid my phone back into my pocket, ready to pack my things.

Carmelo watched me, annoyed that I was smiling at my phone instead of paying him attention.

"Adelaide, why are you smiling? This isn’t the first time I’ve brought someone home. You’re not going to have another meltdown like the first time, are you?"

"I thought you'd be used to it by now."

Indeed, I was used to it.

The same scene has played out 99 times—not just used to it, but numbed by it.

Our marriage was arranged by our families, and when his beloved left for another country in anguish, he blamed me for her tragic death during a protest. Despite his resentment, he had to marry me, complying with his grandfather Asa's wishes.

Resistance was pointless, so he constantly brought women home to humiliate me.

The first time he did this, it was during our first anniversary at a garden party in front of hundreds of guests. I completely broke down, begging him not to divorce me like some crazed fool.

He relented, insisting that I care for his mistress as a condition to stay married.

After countless humiliations, I no longer had the energy.

This time, I’d keep my composure.

I walked toward my room without saying a word.

Just then, Karla, nestled in Carmelo's arms, spoke up sweetly.

"Carmelo, I don’t like that she wears a tattoo ring on her index finger just like yours. Go get it back from her, will you?"

As Karla spoke, the iciness in Carmelo’s eyes vanished.

"Alright, sweetheart, whatever you say. I’ll go get it back for you."

Before I could fathom the implications of taking it back, a blade sliced through my skin with ruthless precision, etching the tattoo of a ring into me. The sting hit me hard, and blood flowed freely. Startled, I jerked my hand away, staring at him in disbelief as cold sweat drenched me.

Just as I began to brace against the sharp pain, Karla Reed interrupted with an offhand remark, "Ugh, why don’t you cover that up? All this blood—it’s such bad luck!"

“The fortune teller warned me against seeing blood. Are you trying to bring misfortune upon me and Carmelo’s child deliberately?!”

Karla was furious, while Carmelo calmed her with exaggerated patience. “Don't worry, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby. Adelaide, leave the locket behind as a charm to ward off bad luck for Karla.”

The locket had been with me since birth, the only keepsake from my parents before their tragic accident. I loathed giving it away, but as my trembling eyes met Carmelo’s intimidating gaze, I realized I had no choice.

The last time I defied him—refusing to attend the grand Thanksgiving ball for Karla’s amusement—I was sent to the boxing gym that very night, forced to serve as a sparring partner for three grueling days. When I finally emerged, black and blue, I spent a month in recovery.

With a forced smile, I removed the locket and handed it to Karla. “If Miss Reed desires it, I’ll give it to her. Please don’t get upset—it’s not good for the baby.”

My words appeared sincere enough to momentarily catch Carmelo off guard, an unusual expression flickering across his face.

Then, abruptly, Karla tossed the locket aside dismissively. I tried to catch it, but she stomped on it.

“Look at it now, all covered in blood. What a waste, it’s filthy.”

“Forget it, forget it. I don’t want this dirty trinket anymore. Go get me a cup of hot coffee.”

Her taunt was unmistakable in her gaze, but I maintained my composure despite the pain, my nails digging into my palm. Nodding, I fetched a cup of hot coffee and handed it to Karla.

I thought I might finally be allowed to leave, but as I turned to go, there was a loud crash. The mug shattered on the floor, breaking into countless shards.

In an instant, I felt a powerful shove against my back, losing my balance and crashing to the ground. The sharp glass tore into my skin, blood rapidly soaking through my white clothes.

Carmelo didn’t even glance at me, rushing to ensure Karla was uninjured. When he finally turned back, there was fury blazing in his eyes.

“Adelaide Weaver, apologize right now!”

"Apologize?" I raised my head, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"Shouldn't you be the one apologizing? You knew the coffee was scalding hot and still pushed Karla to drink it, just because you were angry about losing the peace charm. I'm well aware of your warped sense of justice."

"Apologize to Karla and make things right, or you're out of here tonight."

Warped sense of justice, indeed.

Nine years of marriage, and every time he was upset, he forced me to grovel, demanding apologies and compensation.

Accusations without proof.

Just because he claims my heart is twisted.

Outside, a storm raged, and the nearest car was miles away from this secluded mansion. Going out meant braving a night in the torrential rain.

Tears threatened to fall, but I swallowed the pain and dug my nails into my palms until I felt blood as I slowly stood up.

"Fine, I'll apologize."

Apologize to Karla Reed.

I dried her skin with my own hands.

I applied the burn ointment myself.

Afterward, I gazed numbly at Carmelo.

"Anything else you want me to do? You've given all your orders, haven't you?"

My demeanor had completely shifted. Even Carmelo seemed momentarily taken aback.

His eyelashes flickered, his lips parted as if he was about to say something, but Karla groaned, capturing his attention.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were icy.

"Get out."

As Carmelo's voice echoed, I turned and walked back to the bedroom.

Once there, I began to pack my bags.

Though I was leaving tomorrow, I couldn't stand another moment here.

I booked a room at a nearby hotel and packed the essentials into my suitcase.

Just as I was about to leave, the door swung open from the outside.

Carmelo stood in the doorway, his gaze stormy, his voice cold.

"Hurt someone and then plan to run away?"

I frowned, not responding.

Before I could process his meaning, two bodyguards appeared behind him, seizing my arms without a word.

Carmelo instructed them to gag and bind me, dragging me to the hospital.

At the entrance to the ward, I heard Karla's sobs.

Dr. Spencer was waiting by the door and quickly briefed Carmelo as he arrived.

"Mr. Hicks, the excessive application of ointment has worsened Miss Reed's skin condition on her legs. A skin graft is necessary, or she'll have permanent scars."

"Then use a skin graft, with her skin."

Carmelo said coldly, pulling the cloth from my mouth and pushing me toward Dr. Spencer.

"You used the wrong ointment on purpose instead of burn ointment on Karla. Her skin's ruined because of you. You fix it."

I finally understood the situation.

Agreeing to apologize to Karla only played into her scheme.

"Carmelo, I did nothing wrong."

"I applied burn ointment on her, I..."

Before I could finish, Carmelo’s impatience was palpable.

"You think I'd believe you?"

He waved his hand, and I was shoved into the operating room.

Before the procedure, the test results came back, and Dr. Spencer looked concerned.

"Your heart rhythm… isn't stable. We can't use anesthesia..."

Weakness overwhelmed me, and I shut my eyes in exhaustion.

"Just do it."

During the surgery, I suddenly heard Carmelo's urgent voice outside the door.

Two hours later, I was wheeled out.

The pain was so intense, I trembled uncontrollably, sweat streaming down my forehead.

In the ward, Carmelo's eyes showed a rare hint of regret.

"Is the anesthesia wearing off already? Why are you in such pain?"

He draped his suit jacket over me and reached for a tissue to wipe my sweat.

I turned my head away, offering no explanations.

Carmelo's fingers hung in mid-air, his eyes briefly vacant.

Then anger flared up in his gaze.

"What's with the attitude?"

"If it weren't for you—"

Before he could finish, the door opened again, and Karla was brought in.

"Carmelo, I’m in so much pain..."

Carmelo rushed to her side, comforting her in soft tones.

Listening to their intimate exchange from the next bed, I felt colder and colder, my heart pounding uncontrollably until everything went black, and I passed out.