Raymond planted himself between Dorothy and me like a shield—his posture said everything. He would protect her, and that settled his position.

I thought back to the first time I'd questioned him, to the explanation he gave me then.

"Dorothy's just one of my students. She recently graduated and has been asking for career advice."

Aside from running a company, Raymond also taught as a guest professor at a university. A professor helping a student was normal enough. But I had seen the résumé he'd hidden under his desk. He'd already brought Dorothy into the company.

If it were merely a mentor-student relationship, I could have let it be. But then I remembered seeing Dorothy in that red dress—dancing with him, pressing her lips to his. At that moment, I wanted to snap every branch from the trees along the road.

"Maddy, weren't you supposed to be on a business trip?" he asked, brow furrowed as he tried to calm everything down. "Let's go home and talk this over."

I shrugged him off coldly and stared at Dorothy's scarlet dress. "You always said red makes you lose control. Are you blind? Don't you see her? She's in bright red."

"Raymond, do you remember what happened the last time I wore a red dress?" I asked. "I'd just found out I was pregnant and wanted to wear red to celebrate. You grabbed me—you hit me so hard I miscarried and ended up in the hospital. Have you forgotten?"

He looked at me, eyes heavy with exhaustion and helplessness. "I've said I'm sorry."

"Madeline, are you still holding onto this? How long are you going to make a scene?" His voice was narrow, irritated.

"Make a scene?" The word tasted bitter, and I laughed without humor. "That was a life we lost. Don't tell me I shouldn't make a scene."

"Either you send this woman to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy," I said, voice steady, "or you use your own life to pay for it."

Dorothy, hiding behind him, began to sob and grab his sleeve. "Raymond—please! I don't want to terminate the pregnancy!"

Raymond held her hand and soothed her. "I'm here. Don't be afraid."

His stance never wavered—no one could touch Dorothy while he stood there.

"I said she couldn't have an abortion," he solemnly said, then dropped to one knee as if trying to coax me. "I give you my life. Do whatever you want—okay, Maddy?"

Once again, it was that same hypocritical act of self-sacrifice, staged for others to see. I swallowed my disgust and forced a bright smile.

"All right." I reached for the vase beside me.

Dorothy’s terrified screams rang out as I hurled it toward Raymond.

“Don’t hurt Raymond!"

The vase hit her in the back first—she stumbled and fell against him. Blood drained from his face, inch by inch.

"Dory—" he cried, panic shredding his voice as he scooped her up in his arms. "Don't worry. I'll get a doctor!"

He shot me a cold glare—pure, unyielding hatred. In that instant I understood: Raymond would never let me go.

But I had planned for this.

Hidden nearby, a reporter had been waiting—camera rolling, every moment captured. Tonight, the footage would go out as an exclusive.

Raymond, why must you always take whatever you desire, only to toss it aside when it no longer pleases you?

I am not an object.

This time, I would make sure you learn the price of your mistakes.

Sure enough, two hours later the headline trended everywhere:

#Raymond Tomlinson Two Timing—his betrayal splashed across the feed, a spectacle for the world to see.

At that very moment, my phone lit up with Raymond's furious call.

"Madeline! The trending news—you arranged it, didn't you? Delete it immediately!"

I said nothing. I simply hung up without a second of hesitation.

When his messages came flooding like bullets, I blocked him with one tap.

Still, they kept popping up on the screen, notification after notification.

Raymond: [Madeline, what are you trying to do? Do you realize how much damage this is causing the company? The stock price is already plummeting!]

[Maddy, I know you're angry, but can't we talk this through properly?]

[If that's what it takes, I'll apologize...]

Expressionless, I powered off the phone, set it face down on the table, and lifted my gaze to the lawyer across from me.

"Let's continue." I pulled out the old document I'd hidden away at the bottom of my drawer and slid it across the table.

"Please take a look. Is this divorce agreement still valid?"

Years ago, before our marriage meant anything, Raymond had personally signed this blank agreement.

At that time, his words had been ice-cold. "If you ever want to leave, just sign this. You'll always have the freedom to walk away."

I had thought it was a gesture of security, of trust.

Later, as our relationship deepened, he changed. The cold-hearted CEO cooked for me three times a day. He fussed over me endlessly—whether I was too cold, too hot, too tired. I believed it. I believed that kind of love could last a lifetime.

So I tucked the paper away, never once thinking of using it.

Until Dorothy appeared.

Other than his violent hatred for red, Raymond had treated me well enough. Even when I lost our child to his outburst, I forced myself to forgive. I could endure pain.

But I could never endure being made a fool.

The lawyer examined the agreement carefully, then nodded.

"Miss Alvares, this agreement is still valid. As long as you sign, it takes effect immediately."

I took the pen, signed my name, and pushed the paper back across the desk. "I want the divorce finalized—as quickly as possible."

When I walked out of the café, rain had begun to drizzle. A black car honked sharply in front of me.

It was Raymond's car. He rolled the window down, revealing his stern face.

"Get in."

I didn't pause, didn't even look at him, and kept walking past.

"Madeline!" He jumped out, grabbed my arm. "Are you still going to make a scene?"

My palm cracked against his cheek before I even thought about it. "Don't touch me. You disgust me."

He froze, staring at me with eyes that had gone cold, his gaze dropping to my flaming red dress. His brows twisted tightly together.

"Why must you oppose me in everything?"

"Maddy, wasn't our relationship always good before? Can't we go back to that?" His voice frayed, heavy with frustration. "Dory was lucky it was only superficial injuries. The baby's fine. But if something had happened—"

"If What then?" I cut him off. My voice was like ice. "If she'd lost the child, would you have killed me instead?"

"Madeline!" His shout was ragged. "How did you become like this?"

"How did I become like this?" My laugh was sharp and bitter. "Tell me, Raymond—did I change? Or was it you?"

His eyes, when they met mine, were full of exhaustion, full of disgust.

"Don't forget," I said, turning away. "It was you who betrayed me first."

I didn't want to waste another word. I walked off.

But he refused to let go, still chasing me down.

"That reporter—you set her up. Call her! Tell her to delete the video!"

So that was why he had come.

"Dory saw the article," he said, his tone accusatory, almost urgent. "She was so shaken she tried to throw herself off the building. It took me a long time to calm her down!"

"Madeline, can't you stop being so selfish?" Raymond continued in annoyance.

"Don't drag others down just because of your own grudges."

How noble. How selfless. How considerate of others.

"Selfish?" I turned, lips curling into a cold smile. "I'm not only going to be selfish—I'm going to destroy everything you hold dear."

Raymond's expression shifted instantly.

"Maddy, don't touch her," he said urgently.

"I swear, that night was an accident. As long as she gives birth to the child, I'll make sure she stays far away from our lives."

His panic exposed his weakness.

A dull ache pressed against my chest, yet my smile stayed in place. "And what if I refuse?"

I didn't just want a divorce. I wasn't going to let Raymond slip away as if all these years of my youth, my energy, my sacrifices had been worthless.

I wanted it all back—every last piece he owed me.

His eyes grew cold.

"Then you'll have to go away for a while," he said at last.

Go away.

He meant sending me abroad, to a strange place where I could "calm down."

But how was that any different from a prison sentence?

"You have no right to interfere with my freedom," I spat. "Raymond, I'm not your pet."

I was about to leave the house in a red dress when his hand caught my arm.

"Change your clothes before you go out."

"I told you, you're not allowed to wear red."

A wave of stubbornness rose up in me. "And why can't I?"

He said it without shame, "Only Dory can wear red."

"When she wears it, it soothes my condition. Haven't you noticed how much better I've been?"

I laughed bitterly, nearly choking on the disgust.

"You're amazing. With acting skills like that, you should be winning film awards instead of lying to me."

He really thought I'd still believe that ridiculous excuse? But I had already seen the truth on the house surveillance footage.

In the dead of night, while I was asleep, he pinned Dorothy on the sofa, kissing her.

He held her close and whispered, "My child can only come from your womb. Madeline doesn't deserve to keep any of mine."

"She's had enough already. I've married her—that's all she gets."

So that was it.

The "red color triggers my episodes" story was just a lie.

Even the "accident" that cost me my child... all part of his carefully laid plans.

I didn't waste another word on Raymond. I returned to the villa, began packing, and dialed a number I'd memorized long ago.

"I've decided. I'm leaving the country. Come pick me up."

The call ended.

But before I could finish packing, an uninvited guest appeared.

Since that day when Dorothy "heroically" shielded him from a flying vase and got injured, she had conveniently moved into the Tomlinson family villa.

Now, belly rounded, wearing my nightgown, she stood in front of me with a smug smile.

"Madeline, don't you think you're a pathetic excuse for a woman?"

"You couldn't keep your husband, you couldn't keep your child—why don't you just die?"

"If you're smart, you'll step down and give me my rightful place as Mrs. Tomlinson."

"Otherwise, staying in that position will only make you a joke."

I didn't lose control like last time. I walked to the window. Outside, the sunlight was bright and sharp.

"Dorothy," I said quietly, "you really think being pregnant gives you the upper hand?"

"How about you take a look at this?"

I handed her a document—an in-vitro fertilization record.

"You've been deceived by Raymond." I smiled. "You think you're some kind of great love story? In reality, you're just a tool."

Then I spoke the words that made her face drain of color. "The child in your belly is mine."