The richest man in Hovendale, Stanley Hawk, had been in a vegetative state for three years. His wife, Wendy Crone, took care of him during that time.

After he awakened, Wendy caught him cheating through a message on his phone. It turned out his first love had returned to the country.

His friends, who once looked down on her, were now poking fun at her. “The swan has returned; it’s time to kick that ugly duckling to the curb.”

It was then that Wendy realized Stanley never loved her. She was nothing but a joke to him.

One night, Stanley received the divorce papers from Wendy. Her reason for wanting to get a divorce was due to his failing potency.

Stanley went to confront her with a gloomy expression on his face, only to find that she had transformed into a gorgeous doctor in a long dress that glistened under the dazzling lights.

Seeing him approach, Wendy smiled gracefully and asked, “Stanley, are you here for an andrology consultation?”

One day, Wendy discovered that her husband Stanley was having an affair.

He had been seeing a college student.

It was Stanley's birthday. Wendy had prepared a table full of dishes early in the day. Just then, she heard a notification from his phone.

Ding!

He had left his phone at home.

Wendy switched it on and saw a text from the college student.

[I hurt myself when I was carrying the cake. It hurts so much.]

Attached was a selfie—not of the sender's face, but of her legs. The girl in the photo wore pulled-up white socks, black leather shoes, and a blue-and-white skirt that had been pushed up to reveal her long, slender legs. Her pale knees were visibly reddened from the bump. The youthful, vibrant image of her body paired with coquettish words exuded a forbidden allure.

People often say successful businessmen like Stanley favored this type of woman when choosing mistresses.

Wendy clutched the phone tightly, her fingers turning white from the pressure.

Ding!

Another text came from the college student.

"Mr. Hawk, see you at Cloud Hotel tonight. I want to celebrate your birthday!"

So, his mistress wanted to celebrate his birthday tonight.

Wendy grabbed her bag and headed straight to Cloud Hotel. She had to see for herself who this college student was.

She soon arrived at the hotel, ready to go in. Just then, she saw her parents, Harry and Lilian at the entrance. Surprised, she walked up to them.

"Dad, Mom, what are you doing here?" she asked.

Harry and Lilian, caught off guard, exchanged a glance before responding to her hesitantly.

"Wendy, your sister's back in the country. We brought her here," Harry said.

'Jessica?'

Through the hotel's gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows, Wendy spotted her sister Jessica and immediately froze.

Jessica was wearing the exact same blue-and-white skirt from the photo in Stanley's phone. The college student was none other than her own sister!

Jessica had always been a beauty, known as the 'Red Rose of Hovendale,' and she was famed for having the most beautiful legs in town. Many men had been captivated by her charm. And now, her darling sister was using those legs to seduce her husband.

Wendy found it laughable. She turned to her parents and said coldly, "So I'm the last to know?"

Harry gave a sheepish smile. "Wendy, Mr. Hawk doesn't even like you."

"Exactly, Wendy," Lilian chimed in. "Do you know how many women in Hovendale are dying to be with Mr. Hawk? Better to let Jessica have him than some other woman."

Wendy clenched her fists. "Dad, Mom, I'm your daughter too!"

Turning on her heel, she started walking away.

Lilian called after her. "Wendy, tell me—has Mr. Hawk ever touched you?"

Wendy stopped in her tracks.

Harry's voice turned sharp. "Wendy, don't act like we owe you anything. Three years ago, when Stanley and Jessica were Hovendale's golden couple, everyone thought they'd get married. But then Stanley got into a car accident and went into a coma. That's the only reason we had you marry him instead."

Lilian gave Wendy a disdainful once-over. "Look at yourself, Wendy. In the past three years, you've turned into a housewife who revolves around her husband. Meanwhile, Jessica became the principal ballerina of her company. She's a white swan, and you're just an ugly duckling. What do you have to compete with Jessica? Just give Mr. Hawk back to her already."

Every word felt like a knife into Wendy's chest. Tears filling her eyes, she walked away.

-

Back at the villa, night had fallen. Wendy had sent the maid Mathilda home, so the house was empty, dark, and cold.

She sat alone at the dining table.

The once-warm meal had gone cold. The cake she had carefully prepared had 'Happy Birthday, Honey' written on it in frosting.

It was glaringly ironic, just like her existence—a complete joke.

Stanley and Jessica had been the golden couple of Hovendale, with Jessica as Stanley's cherished 'Red Rose.' But three years ago, a sudden car accident left Stanley in a vegetative state and Jessica disappeared entirely.

That was when the Crone family brought Wendy back from the countryside and forced her to marry Stanley in Jessica's place. Wendy had agreed willingly when she found out it was Stanley—the man she had loved all along.

For three years, Stanley remained in a coma. During those years, Wendy devoted herself to caring for him. She stayed by his side, gave up socializing, and focused solely on nursing him back to health, living as a dutiful housewife. In the end, her efforts paid off. Stanley woke up.

Wendy lit the candles on the cake.

The flickering glow illuminated her reflection in the nearby mirror—a plain housewife in a dull black-and-white dress, devoid of charm or excitement.

Meanwhile, Jessica, now a successful ballerina, was young, vibrant, and beautiful.

Wendy was an ugly duckling, while Jessica was the white swan.

After waking up, Stanley abandoned the ugly duckling and returned to the white swan's side.

Wendy let out a bitter laugh.

This wasn't love; it was self-delusion. Stanley had never loved her, but she had loved him. The first one to fall in love always lost.

Today, Stanley had made her lose completely.

Tears welled in her eyes as she blew out the candles, plunging the villa back into darkness.

Just then, two bright headlights pierced through the night. Stanley's Rolls-Royce Phantom sped up the driveway and came to a halt on the lawn.

Wendy's eyelashes quivered. He had come back. She had thought he wouldn't return tonight.

The villa door opened and Stanley stepped in, carrying the cool air of the night with him.

Stanley Hawk, the heir of the Hawk family, had been a business prodigy from a very young age. By 16, he had earned dual master's degrees from Harfield. Later, he took Hawk Group public in Hawthorne, making a name for himself internationally before returning home to lead the company as Hovendale's wealthiest man.

Stanley walked in.

"Why didn't you turn on the lights?" he asked in a deep, magnetic voice as he turned on the wall lamp with a click.

The sudden brightness made Wendy blink. When her eyes adjusted, she looked at him.

Dressed in a custom-tailored black suit, Stanley exuded a cold, aristocratic elegance that left countless socialites dreaming of him at night.

"It's your birthday," she said.

Stanley's handsome face remained indifferent as his gaze swept lazily over the dining table. "Don't waste your time on this again. I don't celebrate such occasions."

Wendy smiled faintly. "Is it that you don't celebrate, or you just don't want to celebrate with me?"

Stanley glanced at her, his gaze impassive. "Think what you like."

With that, he turned around and started up the stairs.

He had always been like this—distant and cold. No matter what she did, she could never warm his heart.

Wendy stood and called after him. "It's your birthday today. I have a gift for you."

However, Stanley didn't stop or turn around. "I don't need it."

Wendy let out a soft chuckle and said, "Stanley, let's get a divorce."

Stanley froze mid-step, one foot already on the staircase. He turned around, his deep black eyes locking onto her.

Wendy was also staring at him. Her tone was light but firm as she repeated, "Let's get a divorce, Stanley. Do you like your birthday gift?"

Stanley didn't bat an eyelid. "You're asking for a divorce just because I didn't celebrate my birthday with you?"

"Jessica has returned, hasn't she?"

At the mention of Jessica, Stanley's thin lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Are you bothered by Jessica?"

Stanley, known as the youngest business prodigy alive, exuded an aura of power, wealth, and status. As he approached, Wendy instinctively stepped back, her slender back pressing against the cold wall.

Her vision went dark as Stanley leaned in. He propped one hand against the wall beside her, trapping her between his firm chest and the wall.

Looking down at her with his deep, striking eyes, Stanley sneered.

"Everyone in Hovendale knows Jessica was the one I intended to marry. Weren't you aware when you schemed to replace her and became Mrs. Hawk? You didn’t mind then, so why act all self-righteous now?"

Wendy's face turned pale.

Yes, Stanley had wanted to marry Jessica. If not for the accident that left him in a coma, how could Wendy have married him?

She would never forget the day he woke up. The disappointment and coldness in his eyes when he saw her was devastating.

Since then, they had lived in separate rooms. He never touched her.

He loved Jessica.

Wendy had always known this, but...

She gazed deeply at Stanley's face, the grown man overlapping in her mind with the young boy from years ago.

'Stanley, do you really not remember me?'

It turned out she had been standing in place all along, waiting for someone that no longer existed.

It was enough.

These three years were just her one-sided effort to cherish him.

Suppressing the ache in her heart, Wendy said softly, "Stanley, let's end this loveless marriage."

Stanley's brows arched sharply, and his deep, magnetic voice could be heard. "Loveless?"

He raised his hand, gripping her delicate chin, his thumb brushing against her crimson lips in a provocative motion. "Is that why? Are you asking for a divorce because of that? Do you want it that badly?"

Wendy's delicate face flushed red like a ripe berry, vibrant and tempting.

That wasn’t what she meant!

Yet his thumb lingered on her lips, pressing and toying with them. She hadn't expected such a composed and distinguished man to have such a teasing, roguish side.

Stanley was seeing Wendy up close for the first time. She usually dressed in monotonous black-and-white outfits, paired with oversized black-framed glasses, presenting herself like an old maid.

But up close, he realized her face was barely the size of his palm, and her delicate features exuded a quiet elegance beneath those glasses. Her dark pupils were stunningly beautiful.

Her lips were soft, their plush surface springing back with a subtle elasticity wherever his thumb pressed.

It stirred an unbidden thought.

Stanley’s gaze darkened. "I didn’t expect you to be so eager. You’re that desperate for a man, aren’t you?"

Slap!

Wendy raised her hand and slapped him across the face. Stanley’s handsome face tilted to the side from the impact.

Wendy’s fingers trembled with anger. She realized that loving someone too humbly only led to her dignity being trampled on. He had actually humiliated her.

Furious, she declared, "I know you’ve never stopped thinking about Jessica. Fine, I’ll fulfill your wishes and return Mrs. Hawk’s title to her!"

Stanley’s face instantly darkened, frosty and sullen. A man of his stature had never been slapped before—never!

His sharp gaze locked onto her. "Wendy, you married me when it was convenient for you, and now you want a divorce just because you feel like it. What do you take me for?"

Wendy let out a soft chuckle. "A plaything."

"What?"

Stanley’s expression stiffened.

Wendy forced herself to endure the pain in her heart and said what she knew would hurt him. "You’re just a toy I took from Jessica. I’m done playing, so I’m tossing you aside."

Stanley’s expression turned grim, his mood darkening to the point where it could drip with venom. "Fine! Wendy, you’re something else. Let’s divorce, but don’t come crying back to me, begging for reconciliation!"

He stormed upstairs, slamming the study door shut with a deafening bang.

Wendy felt as though all the strength had been drained from her body. Slowly, she slid down the wall, crouching on the carpet. Hugging her knees, she whispered to herself, 'Stanley, I won’t love you anymore.'

-

The next morning, Mathilda entered the study.

Stanley was seated at his desk, reviewing documents. He was a notorious workaholic.

"Sir," Mathilda greeted Stanley cautiously.

Stanley didn’t even look up. His icy aura hinted at his foul mood. It felt cold being around him.

Mathilda carefully placed a cup of coffee by his hand. "Sir, this coffee was made by Mrs. Hawk."

Stanley’s pen paused mid-air, his cold expression softening slightly.

Was she trying to make amends?

Truth be told, Wendy was an excellent wife. She cooked to his preferences, hand-washed his clothes, and meticulously managed his daily needs.

Stanley picked up the coffee, taking a sip. It was her coffee—the taste he liked.

But he was still angry.

She had slapped him last night, and he wasn’t about to let that go easily. A single cup of coffee wouldn’t suffice as an apology.

"Did she admit she was wrong?" Stanley asked.

Mathilda glanced at him hesitantly. "Sir, Mrs. Hawk has left."

Stanley froze, looking up at Mathilda.

She handed him a piece of paper. "Sir, Mrs. Hawk left this with her suitcase and asked me to give this to you before she left."

Stanley unfolded the paper. The words 'Divorce Agreement' caught his eye.

His expression darkened. He thought she was trying to reconcile.

Mathilda added cautiously, "Sir, Mrs. Hawk asked you to finish the coffee before signing the divorce papers."

Stanley glared at the coffee. "Throw it out! All of it!"

'Sir, you seemed to like the coffee just fine a moment ago. Why don't you anymore?' Mathilda thought to herself.

Without saying another word, she quickly left with the coffee.

Stanley’s face was a thunderstorm, his mood in turmoil. He skimmed through the divorce agreement. She wasn’t asking for a penny—she intended to leave with nothing.

Stanley scoffed coldly. It was bold of her to act like she didn’t need his money. How would a country girl like her survive without it?

It was then that his gaze landed on the reason for divorce, handwritten by Wendy herself.

"Due to my husband’s sexual dysfunction, he cannot fulfill his marital obligations."

Stanley froze, his handsome face turning completely dark.

'That damned woman!'

He grabbed his phone and dialed Wendy’s number.

The line connected, and Wendy’s voice came through clearly. "Hello?"

Stanley's thin lips curved into a frosty arc. "Wendy, get back here immediately!"

Wendy chuckled. "You expect me to come back just because you said so? We're divorced, Stanley. I'm not going to continue indulging you!"

Stanley clenched his jaw. "I'll give you a chance to rewrite the reason for divorce!"

Wendy's tone grew more playful.

"Did I write anything wrong? Stanley, it's been six months since you woke up, hasn't it? Yet, in these six months, you haven't even held my hand. You were in a coma for three years, and although you're physically healthy now, I have legitimate reasons to believe you've developed functional problems. You're not potent anymore! Better hurry to find an experienced naturopath. As our parting gift, I wish you an early recovery of your manhood!"

Stanley was rendered speechless. The veins on his forehead were visibly twitching.

This woman was out of control.

"Wendy, I'll make you regret this! You'll know what I'm capable of sooner or later!"

"Sorry, but you'll never get the chance!"

"Wendy!"

The call abruptly ended with two cold beeps. He hadn't even had time to explode in anger before hearing the disconnected tone.

'Wendy…!'

-

Wendy had already arrived at her best friend Cecelia Sunder's apartment. After she hung up the phone, Cecelia burst out laughing and gave her a big thumbs-up.

"Wendy, that was amazing! Stanley must be so furious, he's spitting blood right now."

Wendy reflected that she had been too humble in the past, which had allowed him to act superior to her for so long.

'Love yourself first. A woman must always prioritize self-love.'

"Three years ago, when Jessica learned Stanley went into a coma after the car accident, she immediately ran away. Now that he's awake, he's crawling back to her? What a joke! You're better off without a man like that," Cecelia commented.

Wendy unwrapped a candy and popped it into her mouth. The sweetness seemed to mask the bitterness in her heart. "That's how you tell if you're loved or not, Cecelia."

Those who were loved were fearless. Those who weren't lived in constant insecurity.

Cecelia noticed Wendy had already gone through a pile of candies. She pulled Wendy to her feet.

"Wendy, cheer up! When you give up one tree, you'll discover an entire forest waiting for you. Tonight, I'm booking eight male hosts to celebrate you becoming single!"

Wendy covered her forehead and laughed.

Cecelia suddenly snatched Wendy's black-rimmed glasses off her face, tossing them into the trash.

Wendy tried to retrieve them. "My glasses—"

Cecelia stopped her. "Wendy, you've been in academic research for too long, and you've gotten used to wearing these glasses. But you should take a page out of Jessica's book and doll yourself up."

Wendy thought about how her parents had always told her she was an ugly duckling while Jessica was a swan. It wasn't just her parents—Stanley must have thought the same. In his eyes, she was just an ugly duckling too.

Cecelia dragged Wendy to the door. "Come on, we're going shopping! Hair, nails, clothes—everything! I want Stanley and everyone else to see how stunning you can be!"

As they walked out, Cecelia suddenly remembered something. "Oh, Wendy, are you really not taking any money from Stanley after the divorce?"

"I have my own money," Wendy replied.

"Letting Jessica spend Stanley's money instead? Jessica says thank you!" Cecelia teased.

Wendy didn't know what to say to that.

"What about the card Stanley gave you?" Cecelia pressed.

Stanley was always generous and had given Wendy a premium black card. However, she had never used it.

Wendy pulled the black card out of her purse and winked playfully. "Today, I'll splurge—and let Stanley foot the bill."

-

That evening, at 1996 Bar.

1996 Bar was Hovendale's playground for the rich, where young heirs and the city's elites spent extravagantly. The music was never-ending, and the dance floor was wild.

In a luxurious and dimly lit booth, Stanley sat in the center of a leather sofa. Tonight, he had on a black shirt paired with black trousers. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms and a steel watch worth millions. His aristocratic, striking features made him the center of attention, drawing glances from countless women in the bar.

Beside him was his close friend, Benny Gondale—the heir of the Gondale family—and several other young elites.

Benny laughed. "Stanley, are you serious? Wendy wants a divorce?"

The others laughed along. "Everyone knows Wendy loves Stanley to the bone. When he was in a coma, she insisted on marrying him. There's no way she'd actually go through with a divorce."

"Let's bet on it. How long do you think Wendy can hold out before begging Stanley to take her back?"

Benny smirked. "I bet she can't even make it through tonight. She's probably already sent Stanley a message."

Stanley's chiseled features remained cold and sharp, his mood clearly sour. He pulled out his phone and opened WhatsApp to check their chat history.

The last message from Wendy was from last night. She had sent a photo of the broth with the caption, [Honey, even though your bone density is back to normal, you should still drink this broth regularly. Don't come home too late!]

As he scrolled up, he saw countless similar messages—all from Wendy. She messaged him every day.

He had never replied. Not once.

Today, the chat was silent.

Stanley felt a vague sense of irritation.

Ding!

A notification popped up.

"See? I told you—Wendy messaged you!" Benny immediately exclaimed.

Ding, ding, ding!

Several more notifications followed in quick succession.

The group burst out laughing. "We knew it—Wendy couldn't hold out! But we didn't expect her to cave so fast."

"Stanley, open them. Let's see how Wendy is begging you to reconcile," Benny urged.

Stanley's sharp eyebrows lifted slightly. Did she really send a message? If she regretted it so quickly, why did she make such a fuss this morning?

He tapped on the notifications, only to freeze.

Benny leaned over and read aloud, "Dear VVIP customer, your card ending in 0975 has been charged 800 dollars at Dazzling Nail Salon."

The group collectively frowned.

Stanley scrolled further.

2,000 dollars at Artistry Hair Salon.

86,000 dollars at Chanel.

240,000 dollars at Louis Vuitton.

There were no messages about reconciliations, only transaction notifications. The group fell silent, feeling like Wendy had slapped them all hard in the face.

Stanley's expression darkened and he slammed his phone onto the table. He didn't care how much money Wendy spent. What bothered him was that she had gone on a shopping spree right after their divorce. This woman was something else!

The once submissive Wendy, who had clung to him for three years, now seemed to have grown fangs.

"Stanley, what's Wendy up to? She's gone to do her nails and hair, and buy clothes. Is she trying to imitate Jessica?" Benny commented.

"Jessica is Hovendale's Red Rose. Wendy's just a country bumpkin. No matter how hard she tries, she'll only be a pale imitation."

"A swan is a swan. An ugly duckling will always be an ugly duckling."

Everyone laughed at Wendy.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the bar. All eyes turned toward the entrance.

Someone gasped, "Look—an angel just walked in!"