Hedy’s POV

After hearing my words, Bryson’s expression finally softened.

He gently wiped the tears from my face, his tone turning tender.

“See? If you’d done this earlier, your brother and your mom wouldn’t have had to suffer.”

My hand trembled as I signed my name on the letter of forgiveness.

The moment he turned to leave, I grabbed his hand tightly.

“I’ve already signed it. You should let my brother out now, shouldn’t you?”

Bryson froze, taken aback by the distance and distrust on my face. His brows furrowed deeply.

“Hedy, those pieces of evidence haven’t passed the prosecution period yet. I can’t release your brother until at least seven days later. Don’t make things harder for me, okay?”

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone buzzed.

I caught a clear glimpse of the screen. It was a message from Debbii.

[Bryson, did you get the letter of forgiveness? If it’s too hard on Hedy, maybe don’t force her. I can go turn myself in. After all, everything is my fault. From now on, you and Hedy should live a good life together.]

The instant he read it, his entire demeanor turned frantic.

He yanked his hand free from mine and bolted for the door.

I bit back the pain in my wrist and caught hold of his sleeve again.

“Bryson! If you can’t let my brother out, then sign this promise instead!”

My eyes locked onto his, unwavering.

He stopped dead. He turned his head and looked at me in disbelief.

“You don’t trust me?”

I said nothing, only holding out the prepared divorce papers.

Just as I expected, Bryson—anxious to go to Debbii—didn’t even look at the documents in his hand.

He shot me a furious glare, then scrawled his signature across the page with a hard stroke. His voice dripped with mockery.

“As I thought. You still don’t understand what mistake you’ve made. You don’t value Debbii’s life, and you don’t trust me.”

With that, he gave me one last cold look, turned, and left without hesitation.

I carefully folded the divorce agreement, a bitter smile curling on my lips.

How could I still trust him?

The last time I trusted him, my brother was thrown into prison, and my mom was left on the brink of death, trapped in a coma.

If I offered my trust again, the only thing waiting for me might be death itself.

With that thought, I arranged everything for my mom, then turned and went back to the villa.

Not long after Bryson left, the screen of my phone displayed a message from Debbii.

I didn’t know where she’d gotten my number, but judging from today, she had been planning this for a long time.

I opened the video, and there he was—Bryson’s anxious figure filling the screen.

“Debbii, don’t worry. I’ve settled everything with Hedy. No one will send you to prison, no one will hurt you. I promise.”

As he spoke, he pulled her gently into his arms, his eyes holding the same tenderness he once reserved for me.

At that moment, I felt my heart shatter.

The pain my mom, my brother, and I had endured—to Bryson, it was all nothing but a bargaining chip to please Debbii.

Even after knowing the truth, he still chose to stand by her side.

At the end of the video, Debbii leaned in and pressed her red lips to his. Bryson, that jerk, did not even refuse.

I watched that video three times over until the ache in my chest numbed into nothing.

As if knowing I had finished watching, Debbii sent another message—this time more openly provocative.

[Bitch, is that wretched mom of yours still not dead? What a pity. She suffered so much because of a daughter like you. Yes, I gave her the drug on purpose, but Bryson still chose me over you. If you know what’s good for you, you’d better leave. Otherwise, watch out for your brother’s and your mom’s lives!]

She really had done it on purpose!

My eyes burned with hatred. If she appeared before me right now, I might not stop myself from tearing her apart!

Message after message, she goaded me, as if trying to drive me mad.

And then, suddenly, I widened my eyes in disbelief.

Hedy’s POV

On Debbii’s video, I recognized a decoration I knew too well.

I paced around the villa, my steps quick and restless, only to discover that the interior design in so many of Debbii’s videos was identical to this place.

A sudden realization struck me like lightning. My chest tightened as I bolted out the door.

From the villa next door came a voice—familiar, intimate.

There she was—Debbii—fluttering into Bryson’s arms like a lark, her laughter sweet and airy.

And Bryson, smiling with gentle indulgence, carefully caught her in his embrace.

“Why are you running so fast? Be careful with the baby in your belly,” he murmured.

Then, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her belly. His eyes brimmed with affection.

For a moment, it felt as if my heart had been pierced straight through.

She had only been back in the country for less than two months, and yet… they already had a baby?

Or was it that, even while she was still abroad, they had already been entangled?

Had my marriage… been nothing but a lie from the start?

My emotions roared and tangled within me, but I bit down hard, forcing myself not to storm over and demand an explanation. Instead, stumbling and unsteady, I retreated into the villa.

Inside, I was greeted by an entire wall of memories—photos of me and Bryson, smiling together, locked in moments of intimacy…

Things he had personally made for me…

An entire wall covered in handbags and jewelry he had chosen for me…

Three thousand love letters, each penned by him!

But now, everything before my eyes mocked me, each piece of evidence sneering at my foolishness.

I couldn’t bear it any longer. With trembling hands, I tore our wedding photo from the wall and hurled it down, shattering it into pieces.

That night, Bryson did not come back.

Instead, Debbii bombarded me with countless videos of them together, flaunting their affection.

Even from outside the villa, their voices carried—sweet, intimate, unrestrained.

I clicked through each video, one by one, my hands shaking as I forced myself to watch. And then, piece by piece, I burned every trace of what I once thought was love.

Three thousand letters, three thousand photos, countless handmade gifts—it all took me the entire night to reduce it all to ashes.

Bryson only sent me one message.

[Debbii isn’t feeling well because of you. I won’t be coming back tonight. Think of it as me helping you make up for her.]

The words left me hollow, stripped of even the dignity of anger. All I felt was despair.

When dawn finally broke, everything that had once bound us was nothing more than a heap of gray ash.

My eyes burned red as I rose unsteadily to my feet, my body trembling slightly.

Just then, my phone rang.

“Ma’am,” a cold, professional voice said, “your mom’s hospital payments are overdue. The oxygen mask, medication, and machines have all been suspended. Please settle the fees immediately.”

A dark fog swept over my vision. My voice cracked and was hoarse as I asked, “Didn’t my husband pay yesterday?”

On the other side of the phone came a contemptuous laugh. Then the staff spoke with disdain.

“Ma’am, Sir Bryson is Miss Debbii’s boyfriend. You call him your husband? If that were true, why didn’t he pay on your behalf yesterday? Please don’t insert yourself where you don’t belong. Just come and settle the bill right away. Otherwise, your mom’s life cannot be guaranteed.”

When I heard that, my hand trembled so violently I nearly dropped the phone.

Just as I was about to rush out the door, Bryson appeared at the entrance, his body covered with red marks.

The breeze that swept in carried with it the sickly sweet scent of Debbii’s perfume clinging to him. My stomach lurched; I nearly retched.

“Where are you going?” he asked, pausing mid-step when he saw my pale face. For a brief moment, something like concern flickered in his eyes.

“Why are you so pale? Are you feeling unwell?” he pressed, reaching out a hand toward me.

With a blank expression, I avoided his touch. My voice rasped, raw from the night, as I asked, “You didn’t pay for my mom’s hospital bills yesterday?”

For a split second, shock crossed his face.

But almost immediately, a soft and delicate voice drifted from behind him.

“Hedy, don’t blame Bryson. Maybe the hospital staff made a mistake.”

Debbii leaned against him sweetly, her tone dripping with false gentleness.

Her eyes, however, sparkled with provocation as they met mine.

And in that instant, everything became clear to me.

Hedy’s POV

“It’s you! You’re the one who tried to kill my mom!”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My hand flew toward Debbii’s face in a slap.

A glint of calculation flickered in her eyes. Before my palm could reach her, Bryson’s hand clamped down hard on my wrist and yanked me back.

His gaze was like ice as it bore into me.

“Enough!” he snapped. “I’ve explained this to you already—none of what happened before was Debbii’s fault! This time, it was also the hospital staff who made the mistake. Why are you blaming her for everything? And now, you’re striking her? Have you completely lost your damn mind, Hedy?!”

With that, he shoved me away.

I stumbled and fell hard onto the floor. Pain shot up my body, my face draining of color.

But he didn’t even glance at me.

“Apologize to Debbii!” he demanded.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself up despite the pain, glaring at him stubbornly.

“You want me to apologize, Bryson? It was she who went after my mom! She’s the one who told the hospital staff to revoke your payment! She even claimed you were her boyfriend! Tell me—who’s the one who should really be apologizing?”

For a moment, he froze.

His brows drew tightly together, his gaze toward Debbii cooling.

In an instant, her face went pale.

But just as quickly, tears welled up in her eyes, clinging to her lashes like a rain-drenched flower. She darted into the kitchen, snatching a knife and pressing it to her own neck.

“Bryson,” she cried, her voice trembling, “I told you I didn’t do it on purpose! Maybe the hospital staff misunderstood. If you insist on believing Hedy instead of me, then I have no choice but to prove my innocence with my death!”

Before anyone could react, she drew the blade across her neck, leaving a deep and bleeding gash.

Bryson’s expression changed instantly. He lunged forward, grabbing the knife with his bare hand.

Blood ran freely down the blade, dripping from his fingers, but he didn’t care. All his focus was on checking Debbii’s wound, his voice frantic.

“Why are you so impulsive? Of course, I believe you! Hold still, Debbii. I’ll call someone to treat your injury right now.”

Without another word, he scooped her up in his arms. As he passed me, his eyes burned with fury.

“Hedy, you’ve gone too far this time!”

“Housekeeper!” his voice roared like thunder. “Lock Hedy in the cold storage! No one lets her out without my permission!”

With that, the housekeeper rushed in with a group of bodyguards who seized me from behind.

I shuddered violently and began to struggle.

“Let me go! I have to get to the hospital to pay for my mom’s treatment! Bryson! Tell them to let me go!”

My voice was nearly a scream.

But he didn’t turn his head even once.

In the end, I was thrown into the cold storage.

The heavy door clanged shut, and the freezing air swallowed me whole.

I trembled, pulling out my phone to try and call someone—anyone—to help pay my mom’s fees at the hospital.

But just as I unlocked it, the door swung open again.

“Take her phone away. Strip her clothes off.”

Bryson’s voice was low and dangerous.

Before I could react, the bodyguards pinned me down. My phone was ripped from my hands, and my clothes were torn away without mercy.

I stared at Bryson in disbelief, my eyes wide.

“Are you insane?! Mom’s still in the hospital waiting for me to pay—I—”

My words broke off as his hand clamped around my jaw, forcing my face up to his.

“Because of what you said, Debbii’s neck was slashed open. The doctor said it was only a fraction away from the artery! I told you, Hedy—she didn’t do it on purpose. But you refused to believe me! Today, until Debbii’s surgery is over, no one is letting you out of this cold storage. As for your mom…” His eyes hardened to steel. “Pray she survives until you’re released.”

Even as I trembled violently in the icy air, his expression remained unmoved.

“Bryson, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face, my throat burning from the cold. “I’ll apologize to Debbii. Just send someone to the hospital to pay the bills. I’m begging you, Bryson! Mom won’t make it!”

But he only looked at me with those frozen eyes, then turned and stepped out without hesitation.

Before the door closed, I summoned every ounce of strength left in me, glaring at him with hatred.

“Bryson! I swear I will hate you for the rest of my life!”

His body gave a faint tremor, but in the end, the heavy cold-storage door slammed shut firmly.