I finally divorced my ex-husband. His current wife struts around in front of me, as if she’s achieved some grand victory. I can only feel pity for her. Because she doesn’t yet realize that she’ll soon be bruised and battered. 1 The violent struggle stirred up dust and sweat, blurring my vision. Tears mingled with snot ran down my face: “Please, don’t, I’m begging you!” My school uniform was torn to shreds. Two boys pinned my arms, while two more held my legs. A blond guy leaned over me, his foul breath hitting my cheek. I felt a chill between my legs as my school pants were pulled down to my knees. My legs were forcibly spread apart. Declan leaned casually against the doorframe, watching it all like a spectator. I called out to him for help: “Help me… Declan, help me!” In return, I got a slap to the face. He slowly walked over to me, squatted down, and lifted my chin. His face was still handsome, with soft bangs covering his forehead, looking gentle and harmless. But what he said made my heart sink: “Help you? Do you know who brought them here?” 2 I woke up from the nightmare in a cold sweat. The Snapchat notification chimed; it was a message from Uncle, inviting us home for dinner. I remembered today was my wedding anniversary with Declan. When I answered the phone, a girl’s sweet voice spoke: “Who’s this? Declan is busy right now.” The noise on the other end was deafening. I lowered my eyes: “Could you tell him his dad wants him home for dinner?” The girl’s voice was playful, like a little songbird: “Declan, your wife wants you home for dinner!” His voice came lazily from a distance: “Not going.” As I was about to hang up, Declan’s voice suddenly came through the phone: “Maeve, come pour the drinks.” Laughter erupted. I went alone to the private room he always booked at The Regency and found him there. His suit jacket was draped over the sofa, a shirt button undone, his face hidden in shadows, expression unclear. In his arms was the company’s new secretary, Esme. His circle of friends, at least twenty or thirty of them, sat with legs crossed, ready for a show. Declan nodded at me. I bent down and poured drinks for each of them. None of them said thank you; they knew Declan didn’t like me, so they didn’t have to be polite. Someone took the chance to touch my hand, and seeing Declan didn’t react, when I circled back, they placed a hand on my thigh. I shuddered and instinctively moved back, causing the tray to tip over, and the bottles and glasses shattered on the floor. The laughter stopped, and Declan’s gaze, sharp as knives, turned toward me. The opportunist quickly said: “Oh, Maeve, how clumsy of you. No worries, I’ll call for cleaning.” A flash of silver fell to the ground, mixing with the glass shards. Esme looked panicked: “Declan just gave me that diamond ring! It accidentally fell!” She nestled in Declan’s arms, smiling sweetly and innocently, her dark eyes captivating: “Could you help me find it, sis?” 3 In the dim room, I had to crawl on the floor like a dog, my face almost touching the ground. Glass shards pierced my knees, palms, and fingertips, drawing blood. The others were used to it, drinking and singing as usual. Only one gaze was firmly locked on me. A chill ran down my spine. I found the ring under the coffee table and handed it to Esme. Declan took it, frowned slightly, and tossed it in the trash: “It’s dirty. I’ll buy you a new one.” 4 I wasn’t that upset. Declan didn’t love me. He married me just to make revenge convenient. The prolonged torment had eased since Esme appeared. If he truly loved her, it would be a good thing for me. I went to the Aiden family alone that weekend. Just as I sat down, Declan appeared. Felix looked at his son curiously: “Didn’t you have something at the company?” The knife and fork in my hand shook. Declan sat next to me, naturally took my hand, and smiled warmly: “There was something, but I let Maeve come first. Then I thought it was inappropriate, so I postponed it.” “Being with Maeve is more important.” Felix nodded approvingly. My mom placed a piece of beef brisket in Declan’s bowl. He replied politely: “Thank you, Auntie.” On a cold winter night, a family gathered happily for a delicious dinner. To an outsider, it would seem warm and cozy. No one knew my palm under the table was already sweaty. Declan held my hand with all his strength. As expected, Felix asked us to stay the night. The room plunged into darkness, and I lay rigidly next to Declan, as if this luxurious bedroom were a tomb. He scoffed, turning to hug me from behind, his hand tracing my curves. His voice was void of warmth: “Maeve, you’re getting more boring.” I hoped he’d stop out of boredom, but the reality was the opposite. In the year we were married, I could count our intimate moments on one hand. “Are you scared of me?” he whispered in my ear, his actions relentless. A rhetorical question. I closed my eyes, enduring the ordeal. Tears slid down my cheeks, and his lips found them, licking them away. “Maeve, it’s normal for couples to do this.” “Didn’t you always say you wanted to marry me when you were little?” 5 Declan was nice to me before. When I first moved to the Aiden family with my mom, everything was new, moving from a poor area to a mansion. One night, I accidentally broke a glass in the kitchen. My mom beat me while scolding: “You stupid girl, do you know how much that glass costs?” “Don’t touch anything in this house! Why don’t you listen?!” I was eleven, and Declan was twelve. He was already growing tall, slender and graceful. He stopped my mom: “It’s okay, Auntie. It’s just a glass.” Then he found me sobbing behind the garden fence, crouched beside me for a long time. Seeing I wouldn’t stop crying, he offered a plum candy: “Have something sweet, you won’t feel so bad.” “I wish my mom had the energy to beat me.” I stopped crying, curious: “What’s wrong with your mom?” He looked up at the sparse stars, smiling bitterly: “She locked herself in her room and won’t come out.” I heard the lady of the house had depression and needed care for her daily life, so my mom was hired as a live-in helper. After that, I became Declan’s little shadow. He showed me every plant in the garden. As a transfer student, he was afraid I’d be bullied, so he went to and from school with me every day. During holidays, he’d even teach me piano. He said: “My mom was a famous pianist. I could play Bach’s Minuet before I could walk.” He was enchanting when he played, as if the sun favored him, shining only on his face. When I learned to play “Dream Wedding,” I watched his focused profile for a long time, my face hot, and stuttered: “Declan, when I grow up, can I be your bride?” He didn’t answer, just smiled and ruffled my hair. Felix often joked with my mom that since the two kids got along so well, maybe they should arrange a marriage. I thought life would continue smoothly like that. Surely it would all fall into place. Until Declan’s mother fell from the rooftop, right in front of us. 6 He pulled away abruptly, getting dressed. I gasped for air like a fish thrown ashore. He buttoned his cuffs and answered a call. I heard Esme’s voice on the other end. She said she was scared, working late, the alley too dark, and she thought someone was following her. Declan dressed quickly and left without looking back. Just moments ago in bed, I felt his loss of control. But now, I was sure only Esme could make him lose his mind. Everything that happened was just a punishment for me. But this punishment was completely senseless. I realized this only after becoming an adult. Esme joined the company half a year ago. With her second-rate degree, she shouldn’t have been hired. But after her interview, she fainted in the elevator from low blood sugar. I was just returning to the company with Declan when the elevator door opened, and a young girl fell into his arms. Declan took her to a nearby hospital. After learning she was an orphan, her adoptive mother cut ties after college, and she hadn’t eaten in two days— He gave her a job. So she became the company receptionist. Declan was conflicted. Outwardly, he seemed kind and just, sympathetic to the unfortunate, with the company donating a lot each year. But in reality, he unleashed his negative emotions on me. At first, Esme was like any naive college graduate, sweet-talking and calling me “sis” whenever she saw me. College students learn quickly. Noticing the lack of respect for me as the CEO’s wife, she started using my first name directly. He offered her a position, and so she became our company’s receptionist. To outsiders, Declan appears generous and principled, always showing compassion for those in need, with a notable portion of the company’s budget allocated to charity. However, behind closed doors, he unleashes his negative emotions on me. Initially, Esme was as naive as a fresh graduate—innocent and straightforward, with a charming demeanor, always calling me “Maeve Maeve” when she saw me. But soon, she realized that no one in the company respected me as the CEO’s wife, so she started calling me by my first name. Eventually, she stopped using any name at all. When I entered the office, she’d be absorbed in her phone without lifting her head, casually saying, “Hey, can you make sure to close the door? It’s windy today.” Recently, as their relationship deepened, Declan transferred her to be his personal secretary and moved her desk into his office. One day, I walked in to deliver some documents and witnessed a scene: Declan was seated in a large executive chair, and Esme was perched on his lap, both wrapped in an intimate embrace, lost in a kiss. Esme’s hand slid under his perfectly ironed shirt, tracing a suggestive line. It was reminiscent of a scene from a romantic painting. I was momentarily speechless and turned to leave. “Stop.” I lowered my gaze. Declan’s voice was husky: “Just stand there and watch.” “Aren’t you used to this by now?” “You’re mean!” Esme glanced at me, playfully tapping his chest with a laugh. “You’re so bad!” But he caught her slender wrist, pulling her closer into another embrace, initiating a new round of affection. Occasionally, soft gasps and murmurs reached my ears. I stood there, numbly watching the absurdity unfold before me, my thoughts already far away. Only I knew the deeper meaning behind his words. After Declan’s mother passed away, his attitude towards me changed completely. We were in the second year of high school at the time. Rumors began spreading on campus that my mother was involved in an affair. I followed Declan, desperately trying to explain: “My mom isn’t like that.” “You have to believe me!” He only glanced at me, his eyes cold and filled with undisguised contempt. Foolishly, I wrote him many letters because he stopped speaking to me. The breakfasts I bought to please him were carelessly tossed into the trash. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. My desk began to accumulate chewed gum, mice, and even used condoms. It was then I realized that the peaceful life I thought I had at school was just an illusion. One lunchtime, some delinquent girls cornered me in the bathroom. It was the first time I was slapped. I silently counted in my mind—48 times in total. Then, I was kicked into a stall. A girl with platinum blonde hair forcibly dunked my head into the toilet. I braced my arms on either side, desperately resisting. She suddenly realized, “Disgusted, huh? Alright, we won’t force you.” The pressure on my head eased, and I curled up in the corner, gasping for air, watching the three demons close in. She kicked over a filthy trash can in front of me: “Let’s play a milder game.” “Take out that sanitary pad, unfold it, stick it on your head, then stand on the playground for half an hour.” “This time, we’ll let you go. See? We can be merciful.” During the lunch break, the hallway was packed with students. Many classmates were strolling near the playground. Their faces showed shock, disdain, and a hint of sympathy. The noise felt distant, yet it made my scalp tingle. “Oh my god, is that person unwell?” “Disgusting, and it’s used. I’m gonna be sick.” I stood alone in the empty center of the playground. Under the scorching sun, the candy in my pocket gradually melted, but all I felt was cold. So cold. No one came near me. Some laughed, some shouted, some took pictures. I squinted, scanning the classroom doors. I didn’t see the person I wanted to see. He never liked watching scenes like this. Surely, he just didn’t know it was me. Otherwise, he would have come to save me. Six months later, Declan’s father married my mother. That day after school, a group of boys dragged me to an abandoned factory. My mom was celebrating her wedding in the city’s most luxurious hotel while I was pinned to the muddy ground by a group of thugs. My cries and pleas were useless until Declan appeared. I cried until my eyes were swollen, struggling to ask him for help, but he delivered a crushing blow. “Help you? Do you even know who called them?” In that moment, everything around me lost its color, and his words replayed endlessly in my mind. I was like a broken doll, staring blankly, motionless. At the last moment, Declan threw his coat over me and shouted at them, “Get lost!” He tapped my face, but I didn’t react. He cursed at me, still no response. Until he brought me home. I hoarsely asked him, “Declan, why are you doing this to me?” “Why am I doing this to you?” He tilted his head, questioning me, a twisted smirk on his face. He yanked my hair, dragging me to the study room door on the second floor. Kicking the door open, he threw me onto the chair in front of the desk. He pressed down on me. His violent actions terrified me. I had no strength to struggle. My lip was bitten, bleeding. He wiped the blood from his mouth, glaring at me intensely: “The day before my mom jumped, guess what I saw here?” “Your lovely mom and my dad, wrapped around each other, kissing passionately.” “And you ask me why I’m doing this to you?” I’m committed to ensuring that the content stays true to its original meaning while aligning more closely with English expressions for better comprehension. Throughout the process, we will maintain the original formatting unchanged. 8 He was tormenting himself while tormenting me. Memories tugged at more than just my nerves. Suddenly, he grew irritable, pushing Esme away and sweeping everything off the desk onto the floor. His eyes were bloodshot: “Get out! All of you, get out!”
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