Joseph changed within three days. At our wedding, he had been the perfect groom—charming, passionate, whispering sweet promises as if I were the only woman in his world. But by the third day, I was nothing to him.

He loathed me. Not just with silent disdain, but with open hostility, as if my mere presence in his life was an insult.

Fine by me. The less he touched me, the better.

I didn't need love, didn't need affection. I didn't even need him to acknowledge me. All I had to do was play deaf and dumb, endure until the last day and the entire Gray fortune would become my personal ATM.

This morning was like any other. The eggs in the kitchen were boiled. I peeled them carefully, making sure to remove every last bit of shell before slicing them into his favorite sandwich. A pinch of black pepper—no more, no less—just the way he liked it.

As I was assembling his breakfast, Joseph came downstairs, lazily brushing his teeth. His hair was slightly tousled, his shirt wrinkled—clear signs that he had only just rolled out of bed.

His gaze landed on me, full of irritation. "You're worse than a dog," he muttered through the foam of his toothpaste. "I wouldn't even hit a dog this hard."

I smiled. "A dog bites. I don't."

He sneered, spat his toothpaste straight into the kitchen sink, wiped his mouth with a towel and turned to look at me, his expression dripping with contempt. "Look at yourself. Who would believe you're Mrs. Gray?"

Before I could respond, the soft shuffle of footsteps echoed from the stairs. A woman in my silk nightgown walked down—Cindy Gardner. Joseph's childhood sweetheart.

She had moved in during the second week of our marriage, claiming she was "helping to take care of him." She had made herself comfortable in my house, wore my most expensive clothes, used my personal skincare products and walked in and out of the master bedroom as if she owned it.

Cindy descended gracefully, adjusting the silk robe as she smiled at me, a lazy, smug curve to her lips. "Elisa, I was up with your husband all night. It was exhausting," she sighed, stretching her arms as if to emphasize just how much energy she had spent. "Could we take turns next time?"

I met her gaze without flinching. "Thank you, Cindy. If you're tired, maybe Joseph can bring in a few more karaoke girls to liven things up."

For the briefest second, something flickered in her eyes—anger, mockery, or something else—but she quickly masked it with a smirk, stepping toward Joseph and running her fingers along his arm.

I calmly turned back to breakfast, finishing my work with practiced efficiency. I placed his vitamins and stomach pills in the pillbox, arranging them in the correct order before handing them to him.

He took them with obvious disgust. "Why don't you just take the pills yourself?" he muttered. "Save me the headache of seeing you."

I lowered my gaze, my voice soft. "If I take them, I might die. You're not dead yet—I still need to stay alive."

The room fell silent. The maids, who had been stifling their giggles, suddenly avoided my eyes. None of them dared to speak.

This was me—Elisa. Mrs. Gray on paper. The family's full-time maid in reality.

***

At exactly seven in the evening, Joseph sent a text: [I'm bringing a friend home tonight.]

I put my phone down and got to work. I changed the diffuser in his study to lavender essential oil—he was prone to headaches after sleeping. Then, I switched out the guest room sheets for freshly washed ones and sprayed them lightly with his favorite cologne.

After that, I retrieved the red wine he had ordered last week, uncorked it and let it breathe. By the time the doorbell rang, I had just finished lighting the candles.

When I opened the door, Joseph stood there and beside him was another woman—one I hadn't seen before. A seductive beauty, dressed elegantly, her lips painted a striking red.

I smiled at her warmly. "Would you like a cocktail or red wine?"

The woman blinked, momentarily startled. Joseph brushed past me, his tone cold. "Drop the act. Get lost and stay out of my sight."

I stepped back immediately, retreating to stand by the staircase, my hands clasped loosely in front of me. I watched as they walked past, disappearing into the bedroom. The door clicked shut. I smiled, as if nothing had happened.

Behind me, a maid hesitated before whispering, "Madam... how... how can you stand this?"

I gently touched the bandage on my collarbone, pressing lightly. "And why not?" I replied calmly.

Only seventeen days left. I just needed to act for seventeen more days. Joseph would die and I would be reborn. So, every performance—I had to make it perfect.

At 1 AM, a furious argument broke out upstairs. The shouting grew louder, spilling down the staircase until it echoed through the house.

"If you love her that much, then stop bothering me, Joseph!" Cindy's voice was sharp, angry.

Joseph's response came just as heated. "What are you whining about? Why should I get rid of Elisa?"

"Why?" she shrieked. "She's not even your real wife!"

There was a pause. Then, Joseph's voice, colder than ever. "She is on paper. You, on the other hand, are not."

Cindy stormed out of the study in fury, wrapped in my cashmere shawl. Her high heels clicked against the floor, each stomp ringing through the hallway like gunshots, as if she wanted to poke a hole in the floor.

I had just finished mopping the kitchen tiles when I found myself near the living room. The damp rag in my hand was still dripping slightly, leaving faint water marks on the floor. Joseph turned his head, his gaze landing on me before shifting down to the rag in my hand. His expression twisted as if I were nothing more than a stain on the floor—disgusted and irritated.

The next second, he raised his foot and kicked me. I stumbled, landing on the carpet beside the sofa. The impact wasn't harsh enough to cause real pain, but it was meant to humiliate.

"You want to give it a try?" he asked, looking down at me with a mocking smile, his voice carrying the lazy arrogance of a man who believed himself untouchable.

I sat up, patted my knees clean and responded gently, "I wouldn't dare. I know my place."

Without hesitation, I reached under the coffee table and pulled out a brown paper bag, handing it to him. "These are your favorites—strawberry-flavored. Cindy said you enjoy them more this way."

He paused for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around the bag before he let out a cold sneer. "You're really thorough, Elisa."

"Well, I'm still counting on you to leave me something after you die. I should at least make sure you're happy while you're alive."

My tone was sincere, my face relaxed, as if we were merely discussing whether to have fried or scrambled eggs for breakfast, not a man's impending death.

Joseph stared at me for two seconds, his expression unreadable, before turning away in apparent disgust. He climbed the stairs without another word.

Half an hour later, he came back down—with the seductive beauty he had brought home earlier trailing behind him. By then, I had already changed the sheets in the guest room and sprayed the air with his preferred fragrance—yuzu and sea salt, a scent he found soothing after a long night.

"The light in the left guest room is broken," I reminded him softly as I adjusted the vase on the hallway table. "The right one has fresh sheets. You can go straight there."

The woman hesitated, her eyes darting between Joseph and me, uncertainty flickering in her expression. Then, in a small voice, she asked, "Is she your sister?"

Joseph ignored her, as if the question was beneath him.

I smiled and answered instead, my voice calm. "I'm his wife."

Her expression shifted immediately. There it was—the awkwardness, the discomfort, the urge to take a step back. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, I continued, "But don't worry. We have an open relationship. You can relax."

A flash of doubt crossed her face, but after a brief pause, she nodded and walked into the guest room. I considerately closed the door behind her before turning around, only to meet the gaze of Sasha, one of the maids.

She stood at the end of the hallway, holding a stack of neatly folded bed linens, her expression one of silent disbelief—like someone watching an absurd tragedy unfold.

"Madam... are you really not planning to... divorce?" she finally asked hesitantly.

I let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "If I leave, I'll get nothing. These three years would've been for naught, wouldn't they?"

Sasha opened her mouth, but no words came out. In the end, she simply lowered her head and walked away.

At 3 AM, the noises from the guest's bedroom finally quieted. The muffled sounds of laughter and movement had dragged on for hours.

Wrapped in a coat, I curled up on the sofa downstairs, scrolling through my phone absentmindedly. My mind, however, was focused on something else entirely—the glowing countdown hovering over Joseph's head. [0 days, 13 hours, 42 minutes and 2 seconds.]

Almost there. Only thirteen hours and forty-two minutes left.

I tapped into my schedule and scrolled to tomorrow at 10 AM. Quietly, I clicked the reservation button: [Ferrari Test Drive—Red Portofino M]

A quiet smile tugged at my lips as I put my phone away. Just one more night. The sun would rise soon.

At 7 AM, I stirred from my sleep, my neck aching from the awkward position on the sofa. I had expected to wake up to the chill of the kitchen tiles, to the quiet murmurs of the maids as they gossiped behind my back. But instead, the first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was Joseph, sitting in front of me.

He held a bowl of steaming hot porridge, the faint curl of steam rising into the air. My gaze lifted to his face, then above his head—where the countdown was still running. [0 days, 4 hours, 19 minutes and 25 seconds.]

For the first time in three years, I gave him a genuine, heartfelt smile—one that reached my eyes. Because to me, he no longer looked like my husband. He looked like a mountain of gold.

He wasn't dressed in his usual crisp suit. Instead, he wore casual loungewear, his hair slightly messy, as if he had just woken up. He looked... almost human.

"You don't look well," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Eat something."

I froze, my throat suddenly dry. "How... thoughtful," I murmured. "Are you trying to poison me? Speeding things up for me?"

He didn't laugh. He didn't sneer or throw the bowl aside in irritation. Instead, he reached out and zipped up my coat, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he pulled it to my chin. His voice was unexpectedly gentle. "Don't say such things."

I hesitated, my gaze shifting to the bowl of porridge in his hands. The last time I saw him in the kitchen was when Cindy got drunk and he had personally made her soup.

And now, he was sitting in front of me, offering me breakfast. I wasn't sure whether to feel amused or suspicious.

The same hands that once broke my collarbone were now gently placing a bowl in front of me.

"Eat," Joseph said, his voice devoid of its usual disdain.

I hesitated, watching him closely before scooping up a spoonful. No poison. The texture was smooth, the flavor balanced. Even suited my taste. My grip tightened around the spoon. Something about this felt... off.

Halfway through eating, he reached out suddenly, his thumb brushing the corner of my lips. I flinched, instinctively pulling away, but his gaze remained steady. For the first time in three years, it wasn't cold or mocking. It was unreadable, almost gentle, like that of a normal husband.

A thought immediately popped into my head—was this a deathbed kindness?

Yes, that had to be it. He was about to die.

My hands trembled slightly. I set the spoon down and stood up, excusing myself before rushing back to the bedroom. I unlocked my phone, the screen still open to Ferrari's official website. My gaze fixed on the red Portofino M convertible page, lingering over my test-drive reservation: [Test drive successfully booked – Tomorrow, 10:00 AM]

A slow smile spread across my lips. Next week, a tropical island vacation. After that, wrapping up the inheritance process. And the first thing I'd do? Sponsor ten young, handsome men to take turns lulling me to sleep.

The life I wanted would begin today!

A sudden knock on the door pulled me back. I quickly composed myself before stepping out, only to see Joseph standing there, dressed in formal attire. His car keys lay forgotten on the side table.

"I'm not going," he said.

I frowned. "Not going where?"

"To see Cindy." His voice was casual, as if he hadn't just shattered every pattern he had established for the past three years. "I'll take you to the hospital instead."

My body stiffened. "What... did you just say?"

He glanced at me nonchalantly. "Didn't you say your collarbone still hurts from when I hit you the other day? Let's get it checked."

I was stunned. This wasn't normal.

Not only had he suddenly developed a conscience—he wanted to atone for his sins before dying?

I didn't refuse. Just nodded and obediently followed him into the car. The drive was eerily silent. Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, I watched as he personally opened the door for me upon arrival, handed me water and even dealt with the administration himself.

It felt like I had stepped into a different universe.

"Don't worry," he said as we sat waiting. "I'll stay with you the whole time today."

I chuckled lightly, my lips curling into something between amusement and disbelief. "Alright, darling."

I could hardly wait to see him die with my own eyes.

By noon, when we returned home, the maids looked at me like I was possessed—watching as I hummed a tune, setting the table with a grin like I had won the lottery.

Joseph actually cooked. Tomato-braised beef, stir-fried vegetables with garlic and even a dish he had never eaten before—egg tofu. That was my favorite.

Sitting across from each other at the dining table, I barely heard a word he was saying. My gaze fixated on the countdown above his head, watching as the numbers ticked down second by second.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 30 seconds]

My heart pounded against my ribs.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 5 seconds]

A slow exhale.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 3 seconds]

I gripped the edge of my chair.

[0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 1 second]

I closed my eyes, silently whispering—thank god.

But when I opened them again, he was still chewing his beef.

And the countdown over his head? Gone. Completely vanished.

My breath hitched. My stomach twisted into a knot. This couldn't be right. According to everything I had read in those obscure forums, death predictions didn't just disappear. It was as if... as if he was no longer someone who was about to die. As if he had escaped death itself.

A cold sweat broke out along my spine. Stiffly, I stood up, my legs carrying me toward the bathroom as if on autopilot. Once inside, I turned on the mirror and stared at my reflection, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Then, I saw it.

A brand-new countdown had appeared above my head.

[0 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 46 seconds.]

I had less than a day.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled against the sink.

"What's wrong?" Joseph's voice came from behind me, slow and measured.

A chill ran down my spine.

Then—click.

The bathroom door locked.

A pair of ice-cold hands clamped tightly around my throat!