In our eight years of marriage, Owen brought home ninety-nine mistresses, indulging in debauchery night after night.

Until the hundredth woman appeared—and for the first time, he broke tradition and took her to a banquet.

The young woman was a thrill-seeker. She dragged him to the pool for a secret rendezvous, tearing her lingerie in the process.

Owen’s gaze landed on me, cold as ice. “She’s just a naïve girl. Her undergarments tore just now—take yours off and let her borrow it for the night.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs in the suite. Help her clean up properly. You know the scent I like. Do it the usual way.”

I stayed unusually calm and pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago.

The surrounding guests laughed mockingly.

“Again? How long do you plan on kneeling this time? Is five days enough?”

Owen casually pulled the woman into his arms and kissed her forehead, thinking this was just another empty threat—another one of my staged tantrums.

What he didn’t know was, I had already died.

The person standing in front of him now was nothing more than a walking corpse.

——

The laughter from the crowd stabbed through me like a knife.

Julia, with her wrinkled evening gown clinging to her body, she leaned coyly against Owen's chest.

“Who doesn’t know that every time Mrs. Carter talks about divorce, she ends up on her knees begging for forgiveness?”

“Didn’t she kneel for three days and nights last time? What’s it going to be now—five days?”

“If you can’t live without him, stop pretending. Playing hard to get only works if the man actually wants you.”

I looked up and met his frosty eyes.

“I’m not joking this time, Owen. I want a divorce—seriously.”

“The agreement is ready. I’ll only take what belongs to me. Not a cent more. All you have to do is sign.”

In eight years of our marriage, I’d brought up divorce at least a hundred times.

Not once did it move his heart. It was always me who caved in first—me, groveling for his forgiveness.

But this time, I meant it.

Owen frowned, clearly annoyed. “Fine. Go kneel at home for five days—then we’ll talk.”

“But before you go, take off your undergarments and give it to Julia. Wash her up from head to toe. This isn’t your first time—you know exactly what to do.”

I nodded without hesitation. Obedience had become my second nature over the past eight years.

The last time I refused to bathe one of his mistresses, he chained me up in the doghouse downstairs for a full day and night.

Feeling numb, I unfastened the clasp of my evening gown and slipped out of my bra.

Owen stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed my wrist, clearly irritated. “You’re really going to undress here, in front of everyone?”

“Sheryl, have I spoiled you too much?”

“So desperate to cut ties with me? Fine—go ahead. Let’s see how far you get walking out of this hotel!”

Turning my back to him, I ignored the cold wind slicing through me. I pulled the bra from beneath my dress and handed it to Julia.

“The size might not fit perfectly, but make do with it. Someone will bring you new clothes later. Wear them for him tonight.”

“The suite is on the twelfth floor, first room on the right. I’ll wait for you there.”

Then I turned to Owen. “Once I’ve washed her, I’ll leave. You promised to sign—don’t forget.”

Suppressing his fury, Owen let out a mocking laugh. “You really know how to act. Just don’t come crawling back later.”

“That pitiful routine of yours doesn’t work on me anymore.”

Just as he finished, Julia suddenly cried out in pain.

I turned around—blood was streaming down her back. She’d clearly been slashed by something sharp.

I had barely taken two steps when a hand clamped around the back of my neck and yanked me back.

“Sheryl. Apologize to her!”

The next second, a kick landed squarely on my knee.

I dropped to my knees, my forehead hitting the ground hard in front of Julia.

“To think I actually believed you were being kind for once. Turns out it was just another trick." Owen sneered then continued, "What did you do to the lingerie?”

“She’s hurt because of you! Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Blood had already soaked through her evening gown. Julia shivered uncontrollably in the cold wind.

I shifted numbly, positioning my forehead directly in front of hers, then bowed again with force.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d apologized.

I had to apologize for not delivering lingerie fast enough to Owen’s mistresses.

I had to apologize for not handing him a condom in time.

I had to apologize for using the wrong brand of body wash on his lover.

Any shred of dignity I once had had been shattered over these past eight years.

The guests around us laughed louder.

“No wonder Mr. Carter is who he is. He’s tamed the Myers family heiress like a dog.”

“With how gracious Sheryl is, she could’ve been a proper wife in ancient times. She's really magnanimous.”

I slowly rose to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Owen’s clenched fists.

“Is that enough?” I asked quietly. “I’ll go run the bath for Ms. Julia now.”

Just as I turned to leave, Owen stepped forward, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up.

“Sheryl, how many times do I have to tell you? Playing the victim doesn’t work on me!”

“There’s no audience here for your act. No one’s going to pity you. Save it and crawl back home!”

“Kneel for five days. You’re not allowed to eat or drink anything unless I say so!”

I closed my eyes in despair, my voice barely audible. “Owen... In the past, I knelt because I didn’t want a divorce. But this time, I do.”

“Let me go, and let yourself go.”

He laughed coldly, as if I’d just told the most absurd joke. “Divorce me? You think I’ll believe that?”

“Don’t forget—you threatened me into marriage with your family’s investments. The Myers family’s entire fortune is tied up in my company. Divorce me and the Myers will go bankrupt.”

His eyes gleamed with a sliver of hope. He was so sure I was acting out of jealousy again.

But I just nodded calmly. “Then let them go bankrupt. I just want the divorce. Return my half of the assets to the Myers family—that’s more than enough.”

His expression darkened, anger flashing across his face.

He spat the word “Fine” three times, each one colder than the last.

“Keep pretending. I want to see how long you can keep this act up.”

“Get out. Go wash Julia up!”

I bowed slightly and turned to leave.

The dead have no more tears left to cry.

There was once love between us—but that was eight years ago.

I didn't belong to this world. My soul was only sent here with one goal: to win Owen’s heart.

We were childhood sweethearts. The affection built up quickly. My strategy was working—until the Carter family suddenly ran out of funds and faced ruin.

I remembered the day he said he would marry me—that he wanted a future together. So I took out everything the Myers family had and offered it to him, in exchange for a single marriage contract.

But the story that reached his ears... was twisted.

Uncle Andrew, desperate and drowning in debt, died in a car crash.

Aunt Yvonnne, unable to bear the pain, followed him in death.

Owen blamed me for both lives.

He was convinced it was my threat that had killed his parents.

From then on, whatever love he had for me turned to ashes—leaving only hatred behind.

In the eight years that followed, he brought home ninety-nine lovers.

And when Julia appeared, I knew my mission had utterly failed.

Three days ago, the system erased me.

This time I’m living on borrowed time—granted only because I begged for it.

I pleaded for one last chance to say goodbye—one last chance to divorce Owen, and to finally free my soul.

By the time Owen led Julia into the bathroom, I had already filled the tub with warm water for her.

The water was laced with his favorite ebony-scented bath gel. The air itself was thick with it—Owen's signature indulgence.

However, my obedience didn’t earn me a kind word, only the full weight of his fury.

As soon as Julia entered the bathroom, Owen yanked me onto the bed with force, his body pressing me down.

“Sheryl,” he sneered, “do you really enjoy serving my mistresses that much?”

“If you just say you love me, beg me to send her away, I might actually grant your wish.”

“After all, you’re the woman I liked since childhood. No one else’s body ever pleased me as much as yours.”

He stared at me intently, eyes searching—desperate to find the slightest trace of jealousy, heartbreak, or longing.

But what he saw only disappointed him.

My gaze was dead—emptied of hope, feeling, or life.

“Sheryl, don’t go too far! I gave you a chance—all I asked was for you to lower your head. Was that so difficult?”

“You killed my parents. And I still didn’t divorce you. What more do you want from me?!”

So that was all it would take—just one word from me to end it all.

But it was already too late.

I closed my eyes, a hollow ache spreading in my chest as I whispered, “If I ask you to divorce me now, will you say yes?”

The lust in his eyes vanished. He shoved me off him without warning.

I hit the floor hard, my bones rattling from the impact.

“Don’t think I won’t divorce you. I’m just waiting for you to crawl back on your knees like always!”

“If you love watching me with other women so much, then I’ll make sure you get a front-row seat!”

I didn’t respond. Just calmly got up and opened the drawer by the bed.

“Which brand do you want tonight? Okamoto again? Is three enough?”

Hearing my words, he suddenly kicked the drawer shut, sending boxes scattering across the floor.

“No need! We won’t use anything tonight!”

Even as he barked, my expression remained tranquil—unshaken.

Cursing under his breath, Owen turned, locked the bedroom door behind him, and stormed into the bathroom.

I didn’t know what he was angry about.

Scenes like this had played out countless times over the past eight years.

The sound of the bathroom door slamming echoed through the room.

But moments later, it opened again.

He came back with handcuffs and shackled me to the doorframe.

This time, he didn’t look back.

Soon, the sound of rushing water filled the air.

Julia’s voice rang out, laced with embarrassment and disbelief.

“Mr. Carter, Ms. Sheryl is still outside. This isn’t—”

Before she could finish, whatever protest she had was swallowed by him.

Her bathrobe landed in a heap outside the door.

Owen had left the bathroom door wide open on purpose.

Through the foggy glass, their silhouettes moved together in a rhythm I’d long since grown numb to.

From shame... to grief... to nothingness.

The thunder outside the window rumbled.

Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

In a trance, I remembered a time when we were in love.

No matter where Owen was, he would rush home at the first sound of thunder, just to hold me through the night.

He knew how much I feared storms.

He’d wrap his arms around me and never let go. His hand would gently stroke my back until I fell asleep.

He did love me once.

And he truly hates me now.

My knees were so bruised I could no longer feel them. My legs were swollen and discolored.

Finally, he emerged—carrying Julia in his arms like a victor claiming his prize.

Without a word, he unlocked the cuffs from my wrists.

“Change Julia’s clothes. And don’t you dare close your eyes.”

On the bed, Julia lay completely bare, cheeks flushed pink.

“Sorry to trouble you, Ms. Sheryl ,” she said sweetly, feigning innocence.

Owen chuckled coldly. “How could it be trouble? She loves watching. It’s her favorite thing.”

“She can’t sleep unless she hears me with another woman. Tsk. She's born a slut.”

I lowered my eyes, opened a new box labeled Cat Maid, and began dressing Julia.

The little cat ears twitched playfully as I adjusted the outfit.

It looked... adorable.