Everyone says Lana Krause is like the moon in the sky—pure, untouched by the dust of the world.

I pursued her with everything I had. On her birthday, I knelt on broken glass just to tie her shoelaces. When she doubled over with stomach pain, I carried her up eighteen flights of stairs. Even when I cracked two ribs in the process, I didn’t let out a sound.

We were married for eight years, yet she never once let our fingertips touch. She said it would interfere with her spiritual cultivation.

At an auction, I raised my hand to bid for a Victorian amber brooch. Just then, her senior brother—recently returned from abroad—spoke up and said he wanted it too.

I didn’t hesitate. I made an unlimited bidding gesture on the spot.

He stormed out in a fury and got into a car accident. He lost his ability to have children.

That night, Lana pulled me onto the sofa. All night long, she made me call her “Lanee,” again and again.

I thought she had finally come around.

Until the next auction.

She sneered, her voice cold: “One million. For his first night video.”

A fat man raised his hand eagerly.

I made the "unlimited bidding" gesture again with my shaking hands.

——

“The next item is a little special,” the host said, grinning ambiguously.

“It’s a private video from Ms. Lana, president of the Krause Group. Starting bid: one million. Let’s enjoy a ten-second preview.”

My blood turned to ice.

The screen lit up. The room fell into stunned silence—then gasps erupted.

I was naked on the screen.

I turned slowly toward Lana. She sat expressionless in the VIP section, fingers calmly twisting the wooden meditation beads. Beside her sat Wayne Tyler, her senior from the holistic wellness seminar, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Why?” My voice cracked, my eyes burning with tears. “Just because I outbid him for that bracelet?”

She looked over.

Her brows knit together, disgust flickering across her face. “Byron, you know why.”

My heart clenched, like it was being crushed in an invisible fist.

That night, the Victorian amber brooch was the last item at auction. Both Wayne and I wanted it. I made the bid. He stormed out, and the accident happened.

I didn’t think… I never imagined she’d blame me for it.

I always believed Lana was just cold by nature.

Even when she avoided my touch for eight years of marriage, I told myself it was her ascetic way. I accepted it, blindly, willingly.

But the look she gave Wayne just now—warm, tender, almost devout—shattered that illusion.

Even a woman of the Buddha can burn with earthly desire.

What she didn’t know was that after the accident—when the doctors said she might be brain dead—it wasn’t Wayne who stayed.

He fled the country the moment he heard.

I was the one who knelt outside the ICU for three months, begging the doctors every single day to keep trying.

I wanted to tell her. So many times.

But every time I saw that cold, impatient look in her eyes, I swallowed the words back.

I forced myself to refocus on the chaotic auction hall.

Someone drawled mockingly, “He’s got nice skin… but can he scream one million’s worth?”

Then a fat man sprang to his feet. The buttons on his suit strained over his beer belly.

He licked his lips, rubbing his palms together. “Three million! I want that video!”

I recognized him instantly—Javier Mansfield, the Mansfield family’s bastard son. Arrogant, crude. I’d punched him at a cocktail party once for crossing the line.

Now, my whole body shook with rage and shame. My stomach heaved.

"I want unlimited bidding!" My voice trembled slightly.

The auction hall fell into sudden silence—then erupted into laughter.

“Hahaha!” Lori, Lana’s friend, nearly fell off her seat from laughing. “Byron, didn’t you just light a sky lantern last month? No matter how wealthy the Krause Family is, even a son-in-law can’t burn money like that forever!”

Contempt filled her eyes. “Come on, stop pretending. You’re a grown man—what’s the big deal about people seeing a little skin?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Lana’s cold indifference had already set the tone—everyone could see I was insignificant.

The ridicule came in waves.

“Why act shy now? Weren’t you moaning with joy in the video?”

“Lana doesn’t care, so what are you so proud of?”

“Maybe humiliation turns him on…”

I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood.

A staff member approached me, uncertain. “Sir… are you sure you want unlimited bidding?”

“I’m sure.” I signed without a second thought.

“Byron!” Lana snapped, clutching her the wooden meditation beads tight.

She stood and strode toward me, fury burning in her eyes. “Go back. Now.”

Wayne followed, lips twitching in a mock smile. “Byron, Lana is the most respected woman in our circle. Why make a scene?”

He gave a falsely gentle sigh. “Besides, aren’t you using the Krause Family’s money to light those lanterns? If someone else buys the video, it’s a win-win—it benefits the Group.”

I ignored him.

“Oh,” he suddenly raised his voice, eyes gleaming, “Byron, since when did a live-in son-in-law grow a backbone? Or are you using another woman’s money now? After all… Lana has never touched you, right?”

He put on an earnest face. “If you’re really struggling, I’ll pay for it.”

Lana’s face turned icy. “You’re not allowed to waste Krause Family money like this.”

I looked at the face I’d loved for eight years—now twisted in disgust.

“Swipe the card,” I said flatly, brushing past her and handing my card to the staff.

They gave me the CD.

I turned to her, running a finger lightly along the edge of the disc. My voice dropped to a whisper only she could hear.

“Do you know why I fought so hard for that bracelet?”

She frowned.

“Because it was the last piece my father ever made before he died.” My eyes stung. “I told you about it more than once. You just never listened.”

When I parked in front of the Krause Family villa, my hands on the steering wheel were still shaking.

“Byron…” Amanda, Lana's mother, came out, concerned. “You look terrible. Did Lana—?”

“I want a divorce.”

Hector, Lana's father, slammed the newspaper onto the table. “What did she do this time?”

I held up my phone. The video from the auction played clearly on the screen.

“This wicked girl!” Hector turned pale with rage.

Amanda sighed. “You’ve been good to her. It’s the Krause Family who let you down...”

That evening, two neatly prepared divorce agreements sat on the coffee table.

Just then, the door opened. Lana walked in, Wayne beside her.

I stood abruptly. A fruit knife clattered to the floor.

Lana instinctively shielded Wayne. “Byron! What are you doing?!”

“I want a divorce.” My voice was calm. I placed the agreement on the table. “Sign it. I already have.”

She sneered. “You think playing hard to get will make me care?”

My eyes burned. “You sold my video. Do you even deserve to call yourself a wife?”

Wayne reached out and grabbed my arm. “Byron, stop this. You’re treating the auction like some kind of game.”

I yanked myself free, the motion violent.

In the scuffle, the jade pendant around my neck snapped from its cord and shattered against the marble floor—split cleanly in two.

It was the only thing my mother left me.

Rage exploded in my chest. I didn’t hesitate—I swung and punched Wayne square in the face.

A sharp pain followed a split second later—slap!

Lana had struck me with such force that my ears rang. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

She rushed to help Wayne off the floor. He clutched his cheek, eyes welling with tears. “Byron, I’m sorry, I’ll pay for the pendant…”

Lana didn’t even look at me. Coldly, she pulled a wad of bills from her coat and threw it in my face.

“Twenty thousand. You can buy ten more of those worthless things. If you want to act insane, go earn your own damn money.”

I dropped to my knees, gathering the jade shards with trembling hands. My fingertips bled from the sharp edges, but I didn’t stop.

---

Rain poured in sheets over the cemetery.

I clung to my mother’s tombstone, my whole body wracked with sobs.

“Mom... I was wrong… I thought that if I just tried hard enough, I could make her love me. I thought… I thought that was enough…”

The wind howled, whispering like a mournful lament.

Then came the sound of footsteps sloshing through puddles.

I turned to see Wayne walking toward me, a black umbrella sheltering him from the rain.

My eyes turned cold. “What are you doing here? Get out. You’re not welcome.”

He didn’t answer. Just smiled, then pulled a lighter from his pocket.

He flicked it.

The flame dropped to the dry patch of grass beside the grave.

Whoosh! The fire roared to life, swallowing the ground in seconds.

“Mom!” I screamed and dove into the flames, slapping at them with my bare hands.

Behind me, Wayne suddenly broke into a fit of coughs, as if overwhelmed by the smoke.

Lana’s silhouette appeared through the downpour. She rushed toward us, her face darkening the moment she took in the scene.

“Byron! Are you insane?!”

Wayne collapsed into her arms, sobbing. “Lana… I was afraid he’d hurt himself… I came with you to find him. But he tried to burn me alive!”

Lana’s expression iced over instantly. She wrapped her arm around him and looked at me like I was filth.

“Let’s go. He’s not worth a second more of your compassion.”

I knelt there in the flames as they turned my clothes to ash and scorched the ends of my hair.

Even as the fire crews came rushing in, I didn’t move.

Only when the blaze was doused and the smoke cleared did I collapse beside the tombstone, clutching it like a lifeline.

“…Good thing… the grave’s still here…” I murmured, my voice shaking.

A cemetery staff member approached, hesitant. “Sir… why are you trying so hard?”

I looked up, dazed.

He hesitated before continuing, “The grave… it’s empty.”

My heart stopped. “What… what did you say?”

He frowned. “A few days ago, your wife’s male secretary—his surname was Tyler, I think—filed a request to relocate the remains. Paid all the fees. We assumed it was approved.”

I froze.

Lana didn’t have a male secretary.

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

The line rang for what felt like eternity.

When she finally answered, her voice was cold. “What is it, Byron?”

My grip tightened. “Where’s Wayne?”

Her tone grew sharper. “Byron, my patience is wearing thin.”

Just as she was about to hang up, I caught a voice in the background—someone mentioning a hotel address.

I shot to my feet and ran.

---

The banquet hall was lit like a palace. Crystal chandeliers, silk gowns, designer tuxedos. A toast was in progress.

Lana stood in the center, elegant as ever, a glass of water in hand, smiling politely among the elite.

Beside her, Wayne moved easily through the crowd, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised.

They looked like a match made in heaven.

He spotted me immediately and strode over with a smirk curling on his lips.

“Byron,” he said smoothly, holding out a glass of champagne, “Come on. Let’s have a drink.”