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.

The wedding was held at the most luxurious hotel in the city—the Peninsula.

Officially, it was announced as a performance to fulfill an old man's dying wish. Yet, the scale of the ceremony surpassed even the wedding Ethan and I had held back then.

Nearly every influential figure in our circle showed up.

Some came out of curiosity, others to watch the spectacle. In any case, not a single seat was empty.

I wore a black gown and sat at the main table.

I didn't look like a guest at a wedding. I looked more like someone attending a funeral.

The glances around me were filled with mockery and whispered comments.

"Hey, look at Celia. She actually came."

"Isn't she too pathetic? Her husband is about to marry another woman, and she can still sit there?"

"I heard it's for that girl's grandfather—just an act."

"An act? Do you believe that? Look at that diamond ring, that setup. It's no less grand than Celia's wedding back then."

"Shh, keep your voice down…"

I gently swirled the wine in my glass, turning a deaf ear to the chatter around me.

The wedding march began.

The doors opened, and Ethan walked down the red carpet with Sophie on his arm.

Ethan wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking strikingly handsome.

Sophie was dressed in the altered million-dollar wedding gown, her face glowing with happiness.

As he passed by me, Ethan slowed his steps slightly. He glanced at me, his expression complicated.

I raised my glass toward him in a distant toast, the corner of my lips lifting in a cold smile.

It was time for the vows.

The officiant asked, "Ethan Hart, do you take Sophie Collins to be your wife, to love her and remain faithful to her, whether in poverty or wealth, in sickness or in health, forever and always?"

The hall fell silent.

Ethan gazed at Sophie with deep emotion and answered loudly, "I do."

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

The officiant turned to Sophie. "Sophie Collins, do you take Ethan Hart to be your husband?"

Sophie was so moved that tears welled in her eyes. Her voice trembled. "I do."

"And…" She paused, lowered her head shyly, and gently placed a hand on her slightly rounded belly.

"I have another piece of good news for everyone. Ethan and I already have a symbol of our love. Today is truly a double celebration."

The moment she finished speaking, the entire hall exploded in uproar.

"My God, she's really pregnant!"

"So this isn't acting at all. She's using this chance to take over!"

"Celia is about to have her face slapped raw, isn't she?"

All eyes instantly turned to me, waiting for me to rush forward and make a scene like a shrew.

Even Ethan on the stage looked flustered.

Clearly, Sophie had not discussed this announcement with him beforehand.

Instinctively, he looked toward me.

I stood up, smoothed the hem of my dress, and walked onto the stage with composure.

I took the microphone from the officiant's hand.

"Congratulations, Ethan and Sophie."

I smiled warmly at them.

"Since it's such a double celebration, then as the lawful wife, I should also present you with a grand gift to add to the joy."

Ethan's face went pale. He lowered his voice urgently. "Celia, don't do anything rash! Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home!"

"Home?" I looked at him with open mockery. "Which home are you talking about? The properties under your name don't seem to belong to you anymore."

"What do you mean?" Ethan froze.

I didn't answer him. I simply raised my hand and snapped my fingers.

Behind us, the massive LED screen flickered.

The images of their sweet wedding photos vanished.

In their place appeared dense rows of financial statements, bank transaction records, and scanned copies of asset transfer agreements.

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone stared at the screen in shock.

In the center, bold letters blazed glaringly: [Ethan Hart— Current total assets: Zero. Current debt: 200 million dollars.]