The day my husband, Ethan Hart, posted wedding photos in a bridal gown with the college girl he was sponsoring on his social media, I didn't fly into hysterics like I usually did. Instead, I gave them a like.

I even left a comment: [Such a perfect match. Let's all wish the newlyweds a lifetime of happiness.]

People in our circle said I was the most pathetic wife alive, letting the mistress walk all over me without resistance.

A week later, he came home and explained, "It was just an act. Her grandfather is sick. Before he dies, he wants to see her get married."

I nodded calmly. "I didn't take it seriously. I believe you."

In my previous life, I had stormed into their wedding ceremony that very day and caused a scene, ruining their wedding.

To punish me, Ethan went after my parents' company. He drove them into bankruptcy and forced them to jump to their deaths.

And I was sent to a mental hospital by that woman, tortured until I truly went insane.

So in this life, reborn with everything laid bare, I no longer crave his love. All I want is his money.

Every time he cheats, I transfer a portion of the assets under his name.

Three chances remain.

After that, he will have nothing left.

"I believe you."

I looked at Ethan Hart, my tone steady and calm.

He studied my face carefully. When he saw no sign of anger, the deep crease between his brows finally eased.

Smiling, he pulled me into his arms. "Celia, I'm glad you understand. Sophie is just playful by nature. And with her grandfather gravely ill, I really had no choice."

I leaned obediently against his chest, but inside, I sneered.

In my previous life, it was precisely because I couldn't accept his so-called "no choice" that I rushed out and made a scene.

To vent his anger on Sophie's behalf, he ruthlessly crushed my parents' company, forcing them into bankruptcy and driving them to jump to their deaths.

I was dragged into a psychiatric hospital by him, forced to take medication, subjected to electric shocks, and beaten by the orderlies.

Sophie Collins would occasionally come to see me, nestling in Ethan's arms and mocking me for being like a pathetic dog.

In the end, I died on a bitterly cold winter night.

That was why, from the very first day I was reborn, I began secretly planning to transfer the assets under his name.

This time, I no longer believed in a man's love. I believed only in the money I could hold in my own hands.

Ethan kept talking to himself. "By the way, today is our third wedding anniversary. I'll make it up to you properly. I promise—no one will disturb us tonight."

He raised three fingers solemnly, swearing an oath.

I nodded and replied sweetly, "All right. Whatever you say."

Seeing how agreeable I was, Ethan's mood lifted immediately.

Over the next few hours, he busied himself with preparations.

From the balcony, I heard him on the phone, his voice deliberately lowered.

"The best table in the restaurant… yes, the one with a full view of the city lights. Is the fireworks display ready? It has to be grand… it's a surprise for her…"

Watching his bustling figure, I felt momentarily dazed. For an instant, I almost thought the Ethan who had loved me three years ago had come back.

I looked away and took out my laptop, opening the black operations interface.

Because of that Instagram post, Ethan, you've already used up one chance.

Within minutes, notification after notification popped up. The ownership of the luxury villas and cars under his name was transferred entirely to the overseas offshore trust I had set up in advance.

Altogether, those assets were worth more than 30 million.

I lifted the cup of coffee on the table—already stone cold—and took a sip.

The bitterness spread across my tongue, yet it made me feel more clearheaded and exhilarated than ever.

At seven o'clock that evening, Ethan brought me to a restaurant called Genting.

The location truly was perfect. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered in a sea of lights.

Ethan pulled out a chair for me like a gentleman and said with a smile, "Celia, have something to eat first. There's a big surprise waiting for you later."

I cut a small piece of steak and had just put it in my mouth when his phone rang.

It was the exclusive ringtone he had set for Sophie.

His expression shifted slightly, and he answered at once.

On the other end came Sophie's tearful voice. "Ethan, Grandpa suddenly got worse and was rushed into the emergency room… I'm so scared being here alone. Can you come and stay with me?"

Ethan's grip tightened around the phone. He glanced at me instinctively.

I set down my knife and fork and looked at him quietly.

His eyes flickered. In the end, he said into the phone, "Don't be afraid. I'll come right away."

After hanging up, he stood up, his face full of apology and urgency.

"Celia, Sophie—"

"Go," I interrupted him before he could finish. "A life is at stake. Don't keep her waiting."

He froze.

He had already braced himself for me to lose my temper, to question him. His brows had even drawn together, ready to lecture me.

He hadn't expected me to be this calm—calm enough to urge him to leave.

After a few stunned seconds, he suppressed the faint discomfort and unease in his heart.

"You're the kindest, Celia."

He bent down and kissed me hard on the cheek.

"Eat first and wait for tonight's surprise. It was specially prepared for you. When you're done, I'll have my assistant send you home."

With that, he grabbed his coat and walked out without looking back.

I pulled out a wet wipe and wiped the spot he had just kissed, my face expressionless.

Disgusting.

I didn't waste such a prime view or a table full of fine food.

I ate the entire meal slowly and carefully, even ordering another dessert.

At eight o'clock sharp, outside the window, brilliant fireworks suddenly burst across the night sky. That was the surprise Ethan had prepared for me.

The explosions lit up the sky.

But when the fireworks faded and reformed, the words they spelled out were: Sophie, I will cherish you for a lifetime.

Huge golden characters shimmered in the sky—an extravagant, no-expense-spared display.

The assistant standing nearby broke out in a cold sweat, sneaking glances at my face, afraid I would flip the table and erupt at any second.

But I only clasped my hands beneath my chin and quietly watched the fireworks.

How beautiful.

I remembered how, in the past, he had once learned to make fireworks just to celebrate my birthday, only so the same brilliance could flash in my eyes. His hands had even been blackened by gunpowder.

Sadly, that man had long since died in the flow of time.

Memories surged like a tide, yet I realized that apart from a faint sigh over the past, my heart was utterly still.

No heartbreak. No anger. Not even a ripple.

Only relief.

Relief that, in this second life, I had finally seen Ethan for who he truly was.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

It was a message from Ethan.

[Celia, Sophie is devastated over her grandfather. She's innocent and fragile, so I had to temporarily change the fireworks message to cheer her up. Don't overthink it, and don't go looking for trouble with her. This was entirely my decision.]

I let out a soft scoff and didn't bother replying.

I took out my phone.

'Second chance.'

My finger tapped lightly.

'Transferring liquid assets…

'Clearing private investment funds…'

At that very moment, Ethan—holding the fragile Sophie in the hospital—had no idea.

Just to make his precious Sophie happy, he had paid another eight million as the price of his performance.

Another week passed, and Ethan barely came home.

When he did, I was already asleep.

On the rare occasions we crossed paths, I behaved gently and obediently, showing concern for him and never once mentioning Sophie.

Recently, Sophie had been posting on Instagram for seven days straight—every post a photo of Ethan by her side.

I liked every single one and left blessings in the comments.

Friends in our circle were stunned. They privately messaged Ethan, saying that the once strong-willed Celia Jennings—who could never tolerate even a small mistake—was gone.

They congratulated him on finally "training" his wife and enjoying the blessing of having two women.

Reading those flattering messages, Ethan felt inexplicably uneasy.

'Too obedient,' he thought. 'So obedient that she no longer seems like the Celia who loves and hates so fiercely.'

But then he thought again—perhaps this was the power of love.

'Celia loves me to the extreme, so she is willing to endure for my sake… willing to understand my difficulties. Yes, that must be it.'

With that thought, he felt justified once more.

Early the next morning, Ethan woke me up for the first time in ages.

"Celia, hurry and get ready. Sophie needs your help with something."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, got dressed, and went out with him.

When we arrived, I saw Sophie at once—wearing a wedding gown.

That gown was painfully familiar.

It was the one Ethan had specially commissioned from a master designer from abroad for our wedding three years ago—one of a kind in the world.

Now, that "unique love" was draped over another woman's body.

When Sophie saw me, she cast a shy glance at Ethan and then walked up to me.

"Celia, Ethan told me everything. He said you're very understanding and supportive of us putting on this act. Don't worry, I promise you—we're only acting. There's absolutely nothing else between us…"

As she spoke, she looked at Ethan, sorrow glimmering in her eyes.

"His heart still belongs to you."

Hearing this, Ethan clenched his fists, his expression tense with suppressed emotion.

I was speechless. Once again, I had been turned into a prop in their little play.

Just as I was about to lose my composure, Sophie spoke again, "Since this is your wedding dress, I thought I should ask for your opinion first. Celia, would you agree to let me use it?"

The meaning behind her words was obvious.

She wasn't just asking for the dress—she was trying to seize the position of the rightful wife.

Before I could respond, Ethan answered for me as if it were only natural, "Of course she won't mind. That dress has just been collecting dust at home anyway—Celia doesn't need it anymore."

"Letting Sophie use it to fulfill her grandfather's last wish counts as a good deed. You should be happy about that too, right, Celia?"

He turned to look at me, his eyes full of certainty.

I let out a silent scoff.

Stepping forward, I helped Sophie adjust the hem of the skirt.

My hand brushed against her waist. It was noticeably tense.

"Of course I don't mind," I said lightly.

"I heard the wedding is set for next week? I'll be there on time. I'll even give you a big gift. After all, it's not often you get the chance to watch your own husband marry another woman. I'd like to broaden my horizons too."

Sophie froze, clearly not expecting me to be this calm.

I went on, "But Sophie, doesn't the waist of this dress seem a little tight? Looks like you've been eating well lately."

I glanced pointedly at her lower abdomen.

Her face stiffened. She instinctively covered her stomach, panic flickering in her eyes.

My hand slid downward.

My fingers hooked the edge of the gown's hem, where my initials—"CJ"—were embroidered.

Since the heart of the man who gave this dress was already gone, the dress itself was indeed useless.

With a sharp tug, I ripped off the expensive lace embroidered with my name.

Sophie screamed and staggered back two steps, clutching her chest, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Ah! My wedding dress! Celia, what are you doing? Even if you don't agree, you didn't have to tear it in public and humiliate me!"

Ethan flew into a rage.

He rushed over, shoved me aside, and shielded Sophie behind him.

"Celia! Have you lost your mind? You'd even bully a young girl!

"You've already worn this dress. Leaving it there is just a waste. What's wrong with letting Sophie use it? How can you be so vicious!"

Frowning impatiently, he said, "As punishment, the project your family is negotiating will be suspended. And I won't be coming home for a while either. Reflect on your actions!"

With that, he wrapped his arm around the sobbing Sophie and walked away without looking back.

I held the torn scrap of lace in my hand, utterly unmoved by his threat.

No cooperation? Fine. After all, you no longer have the money for that project anyway.

I took out my phone and made a series of swift moves—transferring all the assets under his name.