Maryann Gill, a spoiled and willful heiress, was kidnapped. After a month in captivity, she returned quiet and obedient, nothing like the girl she used to be.

She didn't storm into her husband Lawrence Frye's office, smashing things and demanding to know why he hadn't answered any of her ninety-nine distress calls.

She didn't confront her parents hysterically, asking why they wouldn't pay a dime to get her back when they were worth millions.

She became exactly what they wanted her to be—meek, compliant, no longer making scenes, causing trouble, or acting out.

Even when her older sister—the one she'd never gotten along with—pushed her down the stairs and injured her, and the doctor suggested a family member stay with her, she stayed calm.

"My parents are dead, and my husband was too when I was twenty-four," she simply said.

***

That night, a tall, imposing figure appeared at Maryann's hospital room door.

Maryann looked up and saw Lawrence's handsome face.

He wore a tailored suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean frame—cold, dignified, and polished as always.

He frowned at the long, winding wound on her leg. "Maryann, why didn't you call me when you were hospitalized?"

A faint smile touched her lips. "Mr. Frye, you've had me muted, remember?"

It wasn't until a month ago that Maryann found out Lawrence, her husband of two years, had silenced her notifications on his phone. That was why, when she was kidnapped, she couldn't reach him. With no ransom, the kidnappers grew furious, beating and humiliating her around the clock.

She might have died in that silent night if a passerby hadn't found her.

Maryann had a sister, Candice Gill.

When she married Lawrence, Maryann was only twenty-two—an age for wild abandon. Back then, she was living her best life abroad.

Naturally, she didn't want to be trapped by some arranged marriage back home. So on her wedding day, she fled in a sports car.

But then she crashed—the car smashed through an overpass guardrail.

She ended up hanging a hundred meters above the sea, the car teetering on the edge.

Just when she thought she'd die, she heard the sound of a helicopter.

Then she saw a tall figure standing at the helicopter's open door, gripping the handle with one hand. The rotor blades whipped up a fierce wind, making his black suit flap like a crow's wings.

The shimmering reflection of the sea lit him up, and for a second, she wondered if he was real.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out, holding her close. His voice was cool and detached. "You're safe now. I'll get you home."

At that very instant, her own violent heartbeat drowned out even the deafening roar of the helicopter.

Maybe marrying Lawrence wouldn't be so bad after all.

So what if they didn't love each other? Given time, maybe they could build something real.

After the wedding, Lawrence did everything a husband was supposed to do. But he never talked to Maryann much.

She was the one who clung to him, chattering away. Occasionally, she'd mess up and wait for him to clean up after her. Then he'd say flatly, "Don't do it again."

His words were short, but they were enough to make her happy. At least, he didn't leave her to fend for herself.

She believed that with enough time, she could win over this cold, distant man!

A month ago, Lawrence got a call while eating with Maryann.

"What?!"

He shot to his feet. His eyes—which stayed emotionless even when he slept with Maryann—lit up abruptly, waves of emotion crashing within them.

Even his normally stern face softened into a smile of genuine delight. "I'm on my way!"

"Lawrence! Where are you going?" Maryann called after him.

But he didn't answer or even look back. He was in such a hurry that he ran out without his shoes.

Right then, Maryann got a photo from Candice, who'd been missing for two years.

Candice sat in the middle, with Maryann and her parents—Javier and Claire Gill—on either side, their faces glowing with excitement and affection. Lawrence stood behind Candice, holding her like she was something precious he'd lost and found.

Maryann was completely shut out.

"See that? You could never win our parents' love over me. Now, even your husband loves me."

Candice's text stung Maryann's eyes.

She drove her sports car straight through the floor-to-ceiling window of the Gill's villa, glass flying everywhere.

Amid Javier's furious yelling and Claire's accusations, Maryann looked at the calm Lawrence and said coldly, "Explain."

"Let me do it, since things have come to this," Candice said slowly, telling Maryann the so-called truth.

According to Candice, she was Lawrence's first love—the one who was supposed to marry him two years ago.

While Maryann was living abroad, Lawrence and Candice were seen by everyone as the perfect couple.

No one doubted they'd get married.

Then Candice went abroad for a research program and suddenly vanished.

To find her, Lawrence used his family's overseas resources, even though it meant breaking family rules and getting punished. But he couldn't find a trace of her and fell into a deep depression.

The wedding date between the Frye and Gill families was getting closer.

Eventually, Javier and Claire decided to force Maryann back from abroad to marry Lawrence.

Truth was, Lawrence resisted this marriage no less than Maryann did.

But his grandfather, Luther Frye, gave him an ultimatum—if he refused the arranged marriage and risked the family line, he'd be cut off from the inheritance, and the Frye family would stop searching for Candice overseas.

Only then did Lawrence compromise and agree to marry Maryann.

In other words, Maryann had been nothing but a tool for the Gill family to keep their benefits and a stepping stone for Lawrence while he looked for the woman he really loved!

Everyone knew the truth. She was the only one kept in the dark, played for a fool!

In that moment, Maryann felt all her blood run cold. She dug her fingernails into her palms until they bled.

She grabbed an exquisitely decorated cake from the table and hurled it at the three-meter-tall champagne tower.

A deafening crash echoed through the room, followed by Candice's cry of pain.

Maryann's lips curved.

"Consider this my welcome gift. No need to thank me."

With that, she turned and walked out in her high heels.

But midway through the drive, she was kidnapped.

The kidnappers stuffed her into a sack, beating her mercilessly with clubs and rods.

She screamed, "I'm the Gill family's heiress! Lawrence Frye's wife! If you hurt me, you'll pay!"

But the leader just laughed in contempt. "I just want money. Pay up, and you walk!"

Maryann tried calling Lawrence and her parents again and again.

But no one ever answered.

For a full month, she was locked in a pitch-black basement. The gnawing cold and the dead silence tormented her endlessly, nearly driving her mad...

Luckily, a passerby found her and got her out.

She was taken to the police station.

Lawrence showed up after hearing the news.

When he saw her deathly pale face, something complicated flickered in his eyes, but it was gone in less than a second.

"You were targeted because you're too flashy. Keep a low profile from now on."

"I will, Mr. Frye," she said calmly, looking right at him.

She didn't act out, nor did she seek any solace from him.

Lawrence frowned. "Mr. Frye? I'm your husband."

Husband?

A flicker of sarcasm crossed Maryann's eyes. She lowered her head without saying a word.

Her silence was new to Lawrence, and he wasn't used to it. He took the initiative to explain, "I had an important meeting these past few days. It couldn't be interrupted, so I silenced your notifications. After all ... you used to call me out of the blue all the time."

Back then, whenever Maryann had a free moment, she'd call him.

She'd chatter away, "Lawrence, have you eaten? You have a weak stomach—you can't skip meals."

"Lawrence, are you off work yet? Can you come shopping with me?"

"Lawrence? Lawrence? Lawrence..."

But now, Maryann just said calmly, "Sorry for disturbing you. It won't happen again."

Lawrence paused, surprise flashing in his eyes.

It was the first time he'd said this much to her at once, and this was her response?

Suddenly, he leaned down and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

His cold fingers made Maryann frown. "What are you doing?"

"Why aren't you throwing a tantrum?"

He stared at her, his gaze sharp, mixed with complicated emotions—including an unease he didn't want to admit. "You've always loved causing trouble for me, haven't you? Why didn't you fight back if you were being messed with? Why let yourself end up like this?"

She pushed his hand away, her voice still flat. "Have you forgotten what you told me before?"

He'd warned her to cut out the flashy, willful behavior and start acting right.

"This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? When Candice poured wine on me and pushed me down the stairs, I didn't fight back or even talk back. I'm doing exactly what you asked."

Lawrence's frown deepened. "Maryann, what are you playing at?"

Just then, his phone rang. It was Candice.

After a pause, he answered it right in front of Maryann, even deliberately putting it on speaker.

"Larry, a light bulb in my apartment broke. I'm really scared. Can you come help me?"

Instead of answering right away, Lawrence looked at Maryann, waiting to see her reaction.

In the past, with her temperament, she would have flared up—grabbing his wrist, refusing to let go, and threatening, "Lawrence, I forbid you to go! You're my husband! Mine!"

He'd rather see her like that, all claws and fire.

But Maryann's expression didn't change at all. "You should go. Don't keep Candice waiting."

Stunned, he watched as she lay back down and pulled the blanket over herself.

It had been a long time since the kidnapping, and she'd lost so much weight. Her shoulder blades were clearly visible under the hospital gown.

And her temper had changed drastically.

It was like a flame had suddenly gone out, leaving only cold smoke. For some reason, it ... stifled him.

"Larry, please... I'm really scared... Come over..." Candice's voice on the phone was noticeably tearful, followed by the sound of a fall and a pained cry.

"Stay put. I'll be right there."

After hanging up, Lawrence said to Maryann, "Get some rest. I'll check on you later."

She didn't respond.

He pressed his lips together, displeased. After a few seconds, he turned and strode out of the room.

Half an hour later, Maryann got a message from Candice.

"I just said my light bulb was broken, and he left you for me."

In the attached picture, Lawrence was changing a light bulb for Candice.

She was holding onto his leg with both hands, looking up at him and chatting.

On his usually cold face was a faint smile.

"As far as I know, Larry has never said much to you or smiled at you like this, right? But you've been clinging to him all this time. What's the point?"

Every word stung Maryann's eyes, but she didn't break down or make a scene.

She called home.

"Let's meet."

"Why?" Javier asked warily. "Did you cause trouble again? I knew it. You troublemaker, never letting us have a moment of peace..."

Cutting him off, Maryann said, "I'm stepping aside so Lawrence can be with Candice. About the meeting—yes or no?"

"Yes!"

Javier sounded excited right away.

A flicker of sarcasm crossed Maryann's eyes as she sent him the restaurant address.

"Maryann, are you serious? You'd really let Larry and Candi be together?"

"Since when did you become so kind and sensible?"

Javier and Claire stared at Maryann, their suspicious looks pricking her heart like sharp needles.

It wasn't that she'd suddenly become sensible.

It was that Javier and Claire had always cared only about Candice.

Maryann had fought for a shred of their notice, but they'd always accused her of being attention-seeking and unreasonable.

Their accusations had haunted her like a curse for twenty-four years.

She didn't want to hear them anymore.

"Agree to my terms, and I'll sign the divorce papers right away."

"What are your terms?"

"Give me 800 million dollars. And I want to cut all ties with you."

"800 million dollars?!" Their voices rose sharply—not because she wanted to cut ties, but because of the amount. "Are you out of your mind, Maryann? You're delusional!

"Our assets go to Candi. Don't even think about it!"

Facing their guarded eyes, Maryann felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her heart, tighter and tighter.

She didn't understand. She was their daughter, too. How could they favor Candice so much?

She tilted her head to keep the tears from falling. "Lawrence's personal assets are worth more than ten times what the Gill Group has. His wife could get at least ten figures a year."

Just as she expected, Javier and Claire went quiet.

It only took them a few seconds before they said eagerly, "Deal."

Then they signed the severance agreement without hesitation. "As for the 800 million dollars—we'll transfer it once your divorce from Larry is final.

"If you dare to play games with us..."

"I won't. I've set to leave."

Maryann's tone was flat.

She didn't have any lingering feelings for Lawrence anymore.

The same went for the Gill family she'd grown to resent so deeply.

"Where are you planning to go?"

The next moment, a cool voice rang out.

Maryann froze for a second. Then she looked up and met Lawrence's scrutinizing gaze.

Candice was standing beside him.

"It's nothing. Mary just wants to travel again, and she's asking us for money." Javier and Claire stood up immediately and walked over to Lawrence with eager smiles. "Larry, Candi, you're here to eat, too?"

But Lawrence didn't answer them. His eyes went past them and settled on Maryann, his brow slightly furrowed. "Are you short on money? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You always tell me to go through your assistant, don't you?" Maryann replied calmly. "I didn't want to bother you."

Lawrence paused, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

The politeness and distance in Maryann's voice made her feel like a stranger—nothing like the playful, whining way she used to act around him.

But before he could say anything, Candice spoke up, "Larry, I'm getting a little hungry."

Javier's face immediately lit up with affection and gentleness. "Come, sit down and eat with us."

Claire picked up a menu and started ordering.

Soon, the table was filled with dishes.

Maryann glanced at them.

It was all the food Candice loved. As for her, no one had ever paid attention to what she liked, let alone remembered.

"Candi, let me pour you some vegetable juice. It's good for your skin."

"Candi, try this. I asked the kitchen to make it special for you."

Javier and Claire, who had been in a heated confrontation with Maryann just moments before, were now chatting happily with Candice. Maryann watched them, her expression blank.

"Mary, why aren't you eating anything?" Candice asked, pretending to be confused.

She handed Maryann a mug of soup. "Here, try some—"

But the next moment, she suddenly stumbled, and the soup spilled out, pouring all over the back of Maryann's hand.

Before Maryann could react, Candice screamed.

The mug fell to the floor and shattered.

"Candi!"

Javier and Claire immediately stood and rushed over, anxiously checking Candice's hand, even though the burn was barely visible.

The back of Maryann's hand was bright red, blistered, with faint traces of blood. But they didn't seem to notice at all.

A trace of sarcasm flickered in Maryann's eyes.

The next second, someone grabbed her wrist.

Lawrence pulled her toward the restroom.

"What are you doing?"

She was confused.

He turned on the faucet and held her wrist under the cool, small stream. His eyes stayed fixed on the reddened skin, his brow slightly furrowed. "You're burned, too. Can't you feel it?"

Stunned, she didn't respond. Surprise flickered in her eyes.

The warmth of his fingers, pressed against her wrist, seemed to seep into her veins, her bones, straight to her heart.

"Lawrence, why?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

Shouldn't he be worried about Candice? Why was he here, taking care of her?

Lawrence glanced at her eyes, filled with complex emotions.

Then he replied calmly, "So you won't lose your temper and do something worse to Candi."

Each word was clear and cold, cutting into Maryann's heart like a knife.

"You always get physical with her when things don't go your way, don't you?

"Last time, Candi got cut by the glass you broke and was hospitalized for three days."

Maryann clearly heard the sound of her heart breaking.

It felt like a heavy hammer, completely shattering the faint, laughable hope that had started to surface in her eyes.

"Sorry."

She pulled her hand back, her voice barely audible. "It won't happen again."

She'd leave once the divorce was final.

Lawrence was slightly taken aback.

Normally, Maryann would have already made a scene.

But today, she was so quiet and well-behaved—he couldn't find anything to criticize.

Somehow, it made his earlier warning feel needlessly harsh.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he looked at her calm profile. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a scream came from outside. "Fire!"

It was followed by Candice's cry for help.

Lawrence's expression changed instantly. He rushed out.

Jostled by the panicked crowd in the restaurant, Maryann fell to the floor. Someone stepped hard on the back of her hand, and the pain was so sharp her vision went dark.

Meanwhile, Candice was held safely in Lawrence's arms, flanked by Javier and Claire. None of them wanted her hurt in the slightest.

"I think Mary is still in there..." Candice said in a small voice, leaning against Lawrence.

Glancing at the crowded restaurant, Lawrence said, "The restroom is near the emergency exit. She should've gotten out already."

"That's right. Maryann never gets the short end of anything. Forget her. That burn on your hand looks serious. Let's get to the hospital," Javier and Claire chimed in.

Hearing their words, Maryann felt a deep cut in her heart, blood oozing out. But she didn't feel any pain anymore.

She forced herself up and stumbled toward the stairs.

Just then, a deafening blast came from behind her.

A wave of heat lifted her off her feet and sent her tumbling down the stairs.

"Gosh!" the other diners exclaimed.

Lawrence turned around just in time to see Maryann's slender figure—like a butterfly with broken wings—rolling down the stairs and crashing hard onto the floor.

"Maryann!"

Maryann hit the floor. She looked up and saw Lawrence running toward her.

The look on his face was something she'd never seen before. There was shock, worry, and maybe even a flicker of ... panic.

That was confusing. He only cared about Candice, didn't he?

Why would he look at her like that?

Maryann's pale lips curved slightly. Then her vision went dark, and she passed out.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital bed.

Every bone in her body ached, and the slightest movement brought sharp pain.

"You're awake."

A cool voice reached her ears.

Lawrence sat by her bed, the dark circles under his eyes making him look a bit haggard. He placed a hand on her forehead, his tone concerned. "How do you feel? Does it still hurt?"

Without speaking, Maryann softly brushed his hand away.

Looking at his empty hand, he paused, his expression shifting slightly.

"Candi was trapped in a fire as a child and has been terrified of it ever since. So I went to her first..." he explained.

"You're Candi's sister. You should know—"

"I do."

Maryann nodded. "I was trapped in that same fire. Mom and Dad went to save her first."

Just like today.

She'd been left behind again.

Lawrence was stunned, surprise flashing in his eyes.

"You never told me. Why?"

Maryann looked up at him.

Her eyes were as calm as still water, showing no change or emotion.

"If I'd told you, would you have saved me instead of her?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, hesitation clear on his face.

"Exactly. So there's no point in telling you." Her lips curved into a faint, pale smile.

"Because I never had any hope in you anyway."

Lawrence's body stiffened. He frowned, grabbing her wrist while demanding—the sharpness in his own tone startling even him.

"Maryann, what does that mean? You never had hope in me? Are you saying that because you're upset I saved Candi first?"

For some reason, he wished she'd pound his chest with her fists, yelling at him, "Lawrence, you bastard! Why didn't you save me?"

That would have been so much better than this—her looking calmly at him, her expression blank even though his grip was tight enough to hurt. "It's your choice who you save. Why would I be upset?" she said.

Lawrence felt the anger simmering in his chest had been doused with warm water—the fire was out, but a damp, restless irritation left him feeling suffocated.

He was about to speak when a nurse came in from the neighboring room.

"Mr. Frye, Ms. Candice says changing her bandages hurts too much, and she'd like you there."

Instead of answering, he looked at Maryann, hesitating.

"Go," she said, already turning away. "I want to rest. You're in the way."

He clenched his fists. But in the end, he just said, "I'll come check on you later," before turning to leave.

Soon, she received a photo from Candice.

In it, Lawrence was helping her adjust the bed to make her more comfortable.

Javier was feeding her soup, and Claire was gently wiping her mouth—their faces full of warmth and gentleness.

Maryann turned off her phone and closed her eyes, her breathing even and steady.

She didn't care anymore. So none of this could hurt her now.

On the day Maryann was discharged, Lawrence took time off work to pick her up, which was surprising.

But instead of taking her back to the villa, he brought her to a racetrack.

"You love racing, right? I thought it might help you relax a little." Lawrence looked at Maryann, as if looking forward to her reaction.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. "Thanks. But you shouldn't trouble yourself with that again."

A familiar sense of unease, coupled with that nagging feeling that something was off, washed over Lawrence again.

Still, he didn't say anything. He just took her hand and led her inside.

It was true—Maryann loved racing. The roar of engines and the blur of cars whipping past always lifted her spirits.

But soon, Candice appeared with a smile. "I felt so guilty about your burn, Mary. I just mentioned to Larry that I wanted to apologize to you in person, and he actually brought you here..."

Maryann was quiet for a moment. So, Lawrence had brought her here because of something Candice had said casually.

She met Candice's triumphant, challenging gaze with indifference. "Oh, you wanted to apologize in person? Go ahead, then."

Caught off guard by her reaction, Candice looked to Lawrence for help. "Larry..."

"That's enough. What happened is in the past. Let it go." Lawrence wrapped an arm around Maryann's shoulders.

Maryann let out a sarcastic smile. The next moment, something in the prize display caught her eye—a necklace.

It was a keepsake from her late grandmother.

She immediately shook off Lawrence's arm and hurried over. "I'm joining the race!"

"No!" Lawrence followed quickly. "It's too dangerous. Mary, don't be reckless. If you want something, I can negotiate for it."

"Can you get the necklace for me?" she asked.

But he hesitated. "That's the racetrack's prize. It has to be won according to their rules."

So no.

"Then get out of my way."

She pushed past him, grabbed a helmet, and got into a race car without looking back.

On the track, Maryann pressed the accelerator to the floor, leaving the other cars far behind.

Just one more turn, and she'd win.

But then a deafening engine roar echoed from behind. A black McLaren closed in aggressively and slammed into her car door.

A loud crash pierced the air.

Her car spun out of control and smashed into the guardrail.

Meanwhile, the black McLaren roared across the finish line and won the race.

Enduring the searing pain, Maryann looked toward the finish line.

She saw Lawrence step out of the McLaren, accept the necklace for the champion, and hand it to Candice.

She understood then—he hadn't stopped her from racing because he was worried about her safety. It was only because he wanted to win the necklace for Candice himself.

What did that make her?

A fool he could play so easily?

Maryann wanted to rush forward, but her vision grew blurry until everything went dark, and she passed out completely.

When Maryann opened her eyes, she was back in the hospital room.

Lawrence was there again, sitting by the bed. He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mary. I promised Candi a long time ago I'd win that necklace for her. I didn't mean to hurt you. As for the necklace—I can get you a similar one. Just promise me you won't give Candi any trouble..."

He looked at Maryann, expecting her to be furious.

To his surprise, she just lowered her head.

"You won," she said slowly. "You can give it to whoever you want. It's not my place to decide."

Lawrence's heart shook, like it had been struck hard.

"You really wanted that necklace, didn't you?" He frowned deeply, not understanding. "Otherwise you wouldn't have rushed to race..."

"And yet you didn't hesitate to give it to her." She looked right at him. "Right?"

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Something complicated, mixed with guilt, flickered in his eyes.

Just then, his phone rang. He answered it and hurried out.

Not long after, Candice walked in holding the necklace, her face triumphant. "Maryann, you've never beaten me, not since we were kids. Now you finally see it, don't you?"

"Are you done?" Maryann's expression didn't change. "Then get out."

"Why should I?" Now that Javier, Claire, and Lawrence weren't around, Candice didn't bother pretending.

"I don't get it. Everyone loves me. But Grandma still left such an expensive necklace for you. That senile old fool!"

She threw the necklace onto the floor.

It shattered instantly, the sound sharp in the quiet room.

Maryann's pupils contracted sharply.

She raised her hand and slapped Candice hard across the face.

"Maryann!"

A furious voice rang out.

The door opened. Lawrence stood in the doorway.

Candice burst into tears immediately, throwing herself into his arms. "Larry, don't blame Mary... I upset her..."

But his gaze on Maryann was razor-sharp. "Maryann, no matter how good you are at pretending, your overbearing, willful nature never changes.

"I warned you before. If you hurt Candi again, you'll pay for it. Someone! Take her back and lock her up for a week."

The following week was worse than the month before.

Once again, Maryann was swallowed by fear.

The quiet felt like dead silence, the air pressing in from all sides.

The darkness seemed to bare its teeth, tearing her apart.

She trembled all over, curled up in the corner against the cold wall, biting her lip hard, trying to use the pain to keep herself from breaking down completely.

In the pitch-black confinement room, utmost terror and shadows pushed her to scratch at her arms over and over, leaving deep, bloody marks. It was as if only physical pain could soothe the deeper torment within her.

On the seventh day, the door to the room finally opened.

Backlit by the light, Lawrence stood in the doorway, looking at Maryann, covered in blood. A flicker of pain flashed in his dark eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something more complicated.

"Don't bother putting on an act again, Maryann. It's pointless.

"Today is our wedding anniversary. I've arranged a celebration, just for the two of us."

Shortly after, he got another call from Candice and hurried away.

Maryann's pale lips curved slightly as she picked up her phone.

It chimed with a new message.

She had just received 800 million dollars.

Then Javier called. "The divorce is final. You'd better keep your word and disappear from all our lives."

"Rest assured. I'm never coming back."

Maryann let out a cold laugh, quickly packed her things, and headed for the airport.

Two years of marriage—a mistake—were finally over.

From now on, she was no one's daughter and no one's wife. She was just herself.

That evening, Lawrence had everything ready for the celebration.

He'd arranged the most expensive hotel, the best planning, the most beautiful gown, the most dazzling jewels.

In a perfectly tailored suit, he waited for Maryann—his temperamental, yet somehow endearing wife.

"Larry!"

A voice reached his ears.

He instinctively curved his lips into a smile and turned around—only to freeze.

Standing before him, wearing the gown he'd specially commissioned for Maryann, was Candice.

It wasn't Maryann.

But before he could react, Candice had already trotted over and thrown herself into his arms.

A heavy perfume hit him as he looked at her, his body going still imperceptibly for a second.

"Larry, you have no idea how much I've looked forward to this day..." Candice sounded excited.

He pushed her away gently, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Today was his second wedding anniversary with Maryann.

He'd hired thirty professional tailors and spent half a month hand-finishing that gown. Anyone could see at a glance that it was made for Maryann.

Seeing Candice in it now made him want to tear it off her and throw it away.

Sensing the distance in his tone, Candice bit her lip, looking hurt. "If I hadn't gone missing two years ago and lost contact with you, it should have been me who married you. Right?"

Lawrence didn't answer right away. He paused, something complicated flashing in his eyes.

She was right—she should have been his wife. Maryann was nothing but an accident.

And yet, as he looked at Candice, Maryann's face surfaced in his mind.

Every smile, every expression of Maryann's was so vivid.

He still remembered clearly the first time he saw Maryann.

That day, he'd agreed to meet his arranged marriage match at a café, as Luther had arranged.

Maryann was already there when he arrived.

Her crimson dress stood out against the quiet, classic décor.

In that moment, the afternoon sun cast soft light and shadows on her profile through the window. She was as bright as flames, burning her way into his rigid, black-and-white world before he even realized it.

Even though he kept his expression calm, he couldn't help but hold his breath.

The rumors were true—she was flamboyant and willful.

Not wanting to marry him, she went out of her way to cause trouble.

She poured ink on his important documents, added salt to his coffee, smashed up his car—like a wildcat baring its claws.

What impressed him the most was their wedding day, when she ran away in a sports car.

When he showed up in a helicopter to rescue her, she—ever the spoiled, proud girl—threw herself into his arms, held him tight, and looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

He felt his heart tug at that moment. He blurted out, "You're safe now. I'll get you home."

From then on, the wildcat stopped showing her claws all the time. She became gentle and clingy.

He could see his face reflected in her bright, shining eyes as she called his name over and over in her clear voice.

He claimed her again and again, while reminding himself repeatedly that it was just what a husband should do.

Because deep down, he still hadn't given up using the Frye family's influence to find Candice.

But over two years of spending every day together, Maryann had quietly slipped into his heart. By the time he realized it, it was already too late for him to take her out.

It was a strange feeling.

What was happening?

Lawrence was taken aback, confusion flickering in his eyes.

In front of him, Candice was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. "Larry? What's wrong?"

Snapping back to reality, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Don't catch a cold."

"You're as sweet as ever," she said with a smile, linking her arm with his. "The guests will be here soon. Let's go out together to welcome them. We shouldn't keep them waiting—"

"Why don't you head back first?" he said gently, cutting her off.

Under her stunned gaze, he added slowly, "Take the jacket. Or you might catch a cold on the way back."

"What did you say?"

Candice wondered if she'd heard wrong. "You want me to go back?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I'll welcome the guests with Mary. After all, this is our wedding anniversary."

He checked his watch.

Maryann still wasn't here. She was probably still upset about him disciplining her harshly over that small incident.

He had to admit—he preferred seeing her baring her claws without restraint. Even though she was willful, she was also charming and adorable, a rare splash of color in his otherwise dull life.

So when she closed herself off and stopped showing any emotion around him, he couldn't help but feel irritated.

And deep down, he even had a selfish, nasty thought.

He wanted to tear apart that indifferent facade of hers, no matter what it took.

He just wanted to see the real her.

But he hadn't expected to truly upset her.

It seemed a wedding anniversary party wasn't enough. He'd buy more gifts to coax her back.

When he mentioned Maryann, his lips curved upward slightly. That scene was like a thorn in Candice's heart.

"So you've accepted your marriage? You already think of her as your wife?"

She stared at him, her eyes reddening slightly.

Lawrence didn't say anything.

The few seconds of silence nearly drove Candice crazy, her blood boiling with sheer fury.

But the next moment, she laughed. "Too bad she isn't coming today. To be more accurate, she'll never see you again."

"What?"

A change flickered across Lawrence's expression. Even he didn't realize his voice carried a trace of tension and roughness.

"She'll never see me again? What's that supposed to mean?"

His fingers tightened unconsciously for a second, knuckles turning white.

"She offered Dad and Mom a deal—800 million dollars, and she'd give you back to me. Just a while ago, she left for the airport and went abroad. She left you, Lawrence!"

Lawrence froze.

The luxurious chandelier in the banquet hall cast a dazzling, cold light over his chiseled face, though his expression betrayed no emotion.

But deep in his dark eyes, something seemed to have shattered, causing a subtle shift.

Maryann ... had gone abroad?

She'd traded him back to Candice—just for 800 million dollars?

Those pieces of information, put together, stabbed into the deepest, most hidden corner of his heart like a sharp blade.

A searing pain—one he'd never felt before—surged through his entire body.

He immediately grabbed his phone and called Maryann.

But all he heard was a cold, automated voice.

Maryann had blocked him.

He frowned deeply.

The way she looked at him before he locked her up kept replaying in his mind uncontrollably.

In her eyes was brokenness, disappointment, and, above all, despair.

He could almost see her walking through the airport, pulling a suitcase behind her.

She was in that same crimson dress, walking briskly and freely, her departing steps unfaltering—without a trace of hesitation. Because the man who'd once hurt her no longer had anything to do with her.

An overwhelming sense of panic—that things were slipping out of his control—surged over him.

He strode out of the banquet hall at once before he realized it.

"Larry! Where are you going?" Candice shouted behind him, but he didn't respond.

Lawrence called his assistant, his usually steady voice edged with urgency. "Five minutes—find out which flight Maryann is on. Now!"

On the way to the airport, he pressed the accelerator to the floor, even running several red lights. When he rushed into the international departures terminal, his assistant and the airport manager were already waiting.

"Mr. Frye, Mrs. Frye is on flight DL2255, heading to Switzerland..."

"Intercept the plane. I don't care what you have to do."

Lawrence immediately headed for the security checkpoint.

"B-But the plane took off half an hour ago."

His steps halted abruptly.

The noise of the crowded terminal seemed to swallow him whole, while a blade of sharp, prolonged static pierced through his ears.

Meanwhile, his assistant cautiously stepped forward and handed him a box. "Mr. Frye, Mrs. Frye left this for you."

He took it, a faint hope still lingering deep down.

Maryann had left something for him.

Did that mean part of her still couldn't bear to leave him?

A glimmer of light returned to his dazed eyes.

Then he opened the box and saw what was inside.

It was a divorce certificate.