Chapter 1

On my wedding day, Dominic's childhood sweetheart, Rosalie, left a suicide note and disappeared into the vast ocean.

She didn't blame Dominic for forgetting his childhood promise; she only blamed herself for being too fragile to accept my existence.

Every winter night, I was forced to kneel in the swimming pool, apologizing to her.

When my dress was soaked with blood, Dominic grabbed my neck, his face full of malice:

"Rosalie lost her life. What right do you have to nurture a new life?"

Later, Rosalie returned from studying abroad, claiming it was all a joke.

For the first time, Dominic felt remorse:

"Let's reconcile."

"Let's have a child again. I'll be a good father and husband, okay?"

But he forgot that some wounds can never heal.

The study door was wide open.

I could see Dominic holding a woman in his arms.

It was his secretary, Vanessa.

"What are you dawdling for? Bring it over!"

I obeyed mechanically.

I was afraid that if he got angry, he would punish me again.

Vanessa took the water, but her hand slipped.

The sound of breaking glass rang out, and she covered her mouth with a light laugh:

"It's so hot!"

"Mr. Foster is so unlucky to have married a wife who can't even handle a glass of water properly."

I turned away, swallowing the bitterness in my heart, not wanting to see their intimate moment any longer.

But Dominic wouldn't let me off:

"Pick it up. What if Vanessa accidentally cuts herself?"

"Do you want to hurt another person?"

I crouched down, and from above came the sound of passionate entanglement.

Dominic said playfully:

"Isn't it more exciting with her here?"

My vision blurred involuntarily as I quickened my movements, stumbling out of the room.

The thin door couldn't block out their increasingly intense gasps.

I slumped against the wall, desperately covering my ears, only to find a warm liquid flowing from my palm.

I stared at the wound, a wave of despair washing over me.

Every day that Dominic took his revenge, I clung to my love for him, trying to repair this relationship.

But now, it seemed pointless.

Perhaps from the day Rosalie died, all he had left for me was hatred.

In the middle of the night, someone took my hand.

The ointment dissolved the dried blood, and the faint sting woke me up.

Dominic's face was expressionless:

"I didn't sleep with her."

"What do I have to do for you to apologize to Rosalie?"

I didn't understand. It was he who failed to keep his childhood promise. Why should I bear the consequences?

If I had known about this stubborn emotion earlier, I would never have chosen this marriage.

Exhausted, I no longer wanted to participate in this one-sided farce:

"Then let's get a divorce."

"I'll do as you wish and apologize at her gravestone."

A strong sense of suffocation came from my neck, and I couldn't help but cough.

Dominic warned me:

"Don't play tricks. We both have to pay for this life."

"Don't think I'll soften just because you mention divorce."

I fell heavily into the bed, my heart feeling like it had fallen from a great height, no longer moved.