The person on the other end of the line sounded both surprised and delighted.

"That's wonderful news. I'm really happy for you."

"But does Jonathan know?"

"I don't want to live with him anymore." Corrine shook her head lightly as she replied. "So I don't plan to let him know either."

Sensing something was off, the person on the phone didn't press further.

"All right. Take care of the divorce matters properly. I'll come pick you up in a month."

Back then, after her uncle finished arranging her parents' funeral, he had once asked whether she wanted to go abroad with him.

For Jonathan's sake, she had chosen to stay in this city. Now, it seemed that choice had been entirely meaningless.

After contacting a lawyer and drafting the divorce agreement overnight, Corrine planned to stay awake until dawn. But exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep before she could see the sunrise.

—

When she woke up the next morning, a cup of warm milk sat by her bedside, along with slices of bread she loved.

"Awake?"

Jonathan looked at her with tenderness, so convincing it almost felt unreal.

"Did you sleep well last night, Corrine?"

"I called you," she said calmly. "You didn't answer."

Her eyes were devoid of emotion as she continued, "Where were you last night—up until this morning?"

"I'm sorry," Jonathan replied smoothly. "Yesterday was the anniversary of your parents' death. I went upstairs to keep them company. I must've stayed longer than I realized..."

"But today is their memorial day."

Faced with her blunt correction, Jonathan accepted it without missing a beat.

"Is that so? Then I must have remembered it wrong."

Corrine looked away, unwilling to meet his carefully crafted expression of affection. She was afraid she might vomit if she did.

"Corrine," he said softly, "you don't seem very happy."

He slowly crouched down and lifted her into the wheelchair. As she fell into his arms, she caught a faint scent—the unmistakable smell of lubricant from the night before.

Suppressing the revulsion, she quietly shifted herself into the wheelchair.

"It's nothing," she said. "Aren't you supposed to go to the company for a meeting today?"

Jonathan sighed and crouched in front of her again, his gaze gentle and helpless.

"What meeting could be more important than my precious Corrine?"

"What's wrong?"

Corrine pressed her lips together, forcing down the words 'I saw you sleeping with Lesley.'

She forced a smile instead. "It's nothing, really. I just got upset reading a novel yesterday."

"In it, the male lead cheats on the female lead—with her enemy, no less."

"Don't you think someone like that deserves to die?"

The warmth on Jonathan's face stiffened for a split second.

"Yes," he said slowly. "That kind of man really does deserve to die."

"Corrine," he added with a chuckle, rubbing her head, "you're not thinking of me, are you?"

"Lesley has been dead for five years. I personally reduced her body to ashes. You saw it yourself."

Hearing that, Corrine lowered her gaze and smiled faintly.

"Yes. I saw it with my own eyes."

Just not her real corpse.

Clearly eager to end the conversation, Jonathan stood up.

"Since you're fine, I'll head to the company."

"...Wait." She took out a document and handed it to him. "I've recently taken a liking to a property. Help me sign this."

Jonathan didn't think much of it. He took the papers and signed casually.

"Remember," he said as he handed it back, "your legs aren't healed yet. When I'm not around, don't go up to the rooftop. Understand?"

After receiving Corrine's obedient reply, Jonathan hurried out, not sparing the document a second glance.

The smile on Corrine's face froze into ice the moment the door closed.

The next second, her phone lit up with a friend request from an unfamiliar account.

Once she accepted it, explicit selfies and private messages flooded in—half flaunting, half provoking.

Staring at that fact that she wished she could tear to pieces, Corrine soon found herself standing outside the rooftop room.

She hadn't expected Lesley to open the door herself.

"Oh?" Lesley smiled brightly. "Long time no see."

"Your legs are healed already? I thought you'd be stuck in that wheelchair for the rest of your life."

Corrine let out a cold laugh.

"Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

Her gaze slowly swept across the memorial hall, finally landing on a nearly invisible hidden door tucked into a corner.

That must be Lesley's room.

"Oh dear, I'm really sorry," Lesley said lightly, lips curled in a flirtatious smile.

"Last night was a bit too intense—we even knocked down your parents' portraits."

Every word landed squarely on Corrine's nerves.

"Actually," Lesley added with a grin, "your husband was the one who suggested it. He said doing it here made things more exciting."

The fiercer the rage burning inside her, the calmer Corrine became.

"Is that so?" she replied coolly. "Something I no longer want—feel free to take it."

Seeing that Corrine remained unperturbed, Lesley looked genuinely surprised.

"I'm really curious," she said slowly. "You're not shocked at all that I'm still alive—and sleeping with your husband?"

"Five years ago, he imprisoned me here," Lesley continued.

"On the surface, it was to make me kneel here every day and repent to your parents."

"But later... the way he made me 'atone' slowly changed."

She didn't finish the sentence. Her meaning was already painfully clear.

"Jonathan will be letting me out very soon," Lesley said smugly.

"And if you dare take a single step outside this estate—I'll kill you," Corrine intoned coldly.

As her fingers curled into tight fists, Lesley's mood visibly brightened.

"Hahahaha!"

"Kill me?"

"Corrine, after all these years, you're still just as naïve."

"Your husband is my shield. With him backing me, even if I killed someone, he'd protect me completely."

Seeing Corrine's lips pressed tight, her face drained of color, Lesley assumed she didn't believe her and grew even more bold.

"You don't believe me? Then you'll see soon enough."

Corrine was about to respond, but Lesley twisted her body and shut the hidden door.

Left alone in the memorial hall, Corrine glanced at her parents' black-and-white portraits, bitterness surging in her chest.

She returned to her wheelchair and carefully surveyed the room. Only after confirming there were no surveillance cameras did she finally relax—just a little.

Staring at Jonathan's bold, flowing signature on the document, a flicker of sorrow crossed her eyes. She had just handed the papers to the lawyer when Jonathan walked in.

Seeing the lawyer's retreating figure, he asked in confusion, "Corrine, why did you call a lawyer over?"

"It's nothing," she replied calmly. "I just consulted him about a few things."

Jonathan found it a little odd, but didn't dwell on it. He turned back and gently massaged her knees.

"Today's your follow-up appointment," he said softly. "Shall I go with you?"

Corrine shook her head. "No. I don't feel like going out lately."

"Just have the family doctor check me here."

He said nothing more and soon summoned the household physician to conduct a full examination of her legs.

"Madam's condition is stable," the doctor concluded. "There's no risk of deterioration, but for now, there's still no possibility of her standing up."

This doctor had long since been taken care of—so naturally, he played along with her lie.

As expected, a fleeting mix of disappointment and relief crossed Jonathan's face.

Seeing Corrine expressionless, he assumed she was heartbroken. He gently cupped her face, his voice tender.

"It's okay, Corrine."

"We agreed when we got married—I'll protect you for the rest of my life."

"Your legs will recover someday."

Corrine put on a deeply moved expression. But in truth, her heart was already dead, hollow with disappointment.

"Oh, right," Jonathan said casually. "I hired a few efficient new maids recently."

"When I'm not around and you feel lonely, you can pick a lively one to keep you company."

As he spoke, he waved his hand.

Several girls in maid uniforms walked in.

And almost instantly, Corrine's gaze locked onto the small tattoo just beneath Lesley's collarbone.

Since Jonathan insisted on placing her enemy right at her side, disguised as a maid, she would gladly go along with his little performance—after all, it would be a shame if they didn’t pay a heavy enough price for it.