Chapter 1

When my fiancé Dean was accompanying me to try on wedding dresses, he suddenly said:

"This mermaid dress looks better on Chloe. Her hips are perkier than yours, and her waist is slimmer."

I was furious.

"You let your secretary wear my wedding dress?"

Dean shrugged.

"If you mind wearing a wedding dress that someone else has tried on, you don't have to wear it. And if you mind marrying a man who's slept with someone else, you can walk away too."

"You… you hooked up with her?"

My lips trembled.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"A young, fresh woman actively throwing herself at me, how could I refuse? Besides, we've been together for too long, and honestly, I just don't feel any desire for you anymore."

He took a long drag.

"I didn't want to lie to you."

Big, hot tears suddenly streamed down my face, hitting the floor with soft plops.

Dean reached out to wipe them away.

"Claire, when you buy roses, don't you always pick the freshest, most delicate ones?"

I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe when his phone rang.

It was Chloe.

He didn't answer, just watched me, unhurried.

"So, are you still sure you want to marry me? Please hurry up and give me an answer, she's waiting for me."

I violently slapped his hand away, grabbing a glass and throwing it at him in a fit of pure despair.

"Get out!"

He didn't dodge. Blood welled from his temple.

He bit down, his face darkening.

"Fine, I'll go. Anyway, I’ll always take care of you financially."

The slamming door reverberated, making my eardrums throb.

I was alone in the dressing room.

I tore off the wedding dress, ripping it to shreds like a madwoman.

Fifteen years of our relationship, defeated by natural wrinkles?

Staring at my reflection, I smashed the mirror in utter breakdown.

Through the piercing pain, I saw glimpses of the past.

We were abducted by these so-called "guardians," with no memory of where we came from, and nowhere to go.

I couldn't steal, and I couldn't beg for money. Our "guardian" decided to cripple me so I could earn more.

Ten-year-old Dean rushed in, clutching a fruit knife.

As the police led him away, he smiled at me:

"Don't be scared, Claire. I promised I'd protect you."

After he got out of juvie, he had no education, a record, but he did everything to ensure I had a good life.

He took on any job, no matter how dirty or dangerous.

He swallowed his pride and let others walk all over him.

The hardest time was when he was transporting illicit goods and got two ribs broken, lying in the hospital, barely clinging to life.

I cried, asking, "Is it worth it, all for me?"

He squeezed my hand, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Why wouldn't it be worth it? You're the most amazing person in the world."

It was cold, so incredibly cold.

A kind store clerk, seeing my hysterical state, thoughtfully booked me a nearby hotel room.

I wrapped myself in the duvet, swallowing a handful of pills.

If it was a nightmare, I'd wake up and it would be over.

But when I woke up, my phone was blowing up.

Scandalous photos of Dean and his secretary getting intimate in a car had already gone viral across the internet.

Dean's call came immediately. His voice was lazy.

"Claire, go talk to the media and get them to take the photos down. If you don't know how, you can ask Mrs. Davies, she's got experience. You'll likely have to deal with these kinds of things a lot in the future."