Julian’s ‘darling little thing’ was having her 99th ‘breakup’ tantrum. He handed me the divorce papers. “Quinn, just sign it. It’s just to humor her. Once she cools down, we’ll get back together.” This time, I didn’t refuse. I signed the divorce papers without hesitation. The bystanders present were all murmuring, “Julian, you’re a legend! You’ve got your wife completely under your thumb!” “Spill your tricks, dude! Share your secrets to handling a woman!” Julian snuffed out his cigarette butt, his face gleaming with pride. “She’s head over heels for me. I could bring a woman home and screw her right here, and Quinn wouldn’t dare utter a peep.” The laughter behind me exploded like fireworks, exposing the raw, ugly truth of my ten-year marriage. That night, he brought the girl home. The faint, bunny-like whimpers from the girl went on all night. I picked up my pre-packed luggage and turned to leave. Martha, our housekeeper, tried to stop me, but Julian just scoffed. “Let her go. She’s nothing but a damn nobody without me!” “Does she still think she’s that celebrated champion artist she once was?” He provocatively kissed the young girl’s face, but his eyes were fixed on me. The next day, the whole town was betting how many days it would take Julian’s ‘disobedient ex-wife’ to come crawling back. But what they didn’t know was that the renowned director, my best friend Riley, who was personally flying me out to the International Art Gala, was already waiting in the extended limo outside. This time, I was truly leaving. — 0
Seeing I wasn’t jealous, Julian rushed after me, grabbing my suitcase. “Quinn, Stella’s dream is to be an artist. She wants to see the trophy. Let her play with it!” I lowered my gaze, looking at my fingers, aching and stiff from countless hours of painting. Becoming a champion cost me a body riddled with aches and pains. He knew damn well how important that trophy was to me. He also knew it was the one thing I’d never leave behind if I left, but he deliberately went out of his way to thwart me. He saw my silence and frowned impatiently. “God, you’re annoying! Always with that pathetic, gloomy face. It’s bad luck just looking at you!” “Just name your price. How much? Is a hundred million enough?” Money. If it really came down to money between us, how much were the ten years of my prime, my peak fame, worth? A bitter laugh escaped me as I looked at Stella’s face, six parts similar to my own when I was younger. They say a man’s loyalty only extends to 18-year-old girls. And who knows how long this girl, who rose to fame as ‘Little Quinn,’ will last with Julian. I handed her the trophy, offering a heartfelt wish: “I hear you’re from the Art Academy too? Then I wish your dreams come true soon!” Seeing my obedient demeanor, he nodded, satisfied, and actually tried to appease me. “As long as you take good care of Stella, I can consider adding her name to your artwork. But I can write your name a bit bigger.” I scoffed, “Is she even *worthy*?” All because Julian said, “I can’t stand to see you work so hard. Just be Mrs. Julian, isn’t that enough?” I announced my retirement from art at the City’s Best Female Artist award ceremony. My decade as Julian’s wife was supposed to be my most precious years, but all he gave me in return was one affair after another! And now he wanted to put someone else’s name on *my* artwork? I grabbed my luggage and turned to walk away. Just then, Julian, in a fit of rage, hurled the trophy at me. 0
Crystal shards flew, slicing my leg open, leaving gashes of varying sizes. Crimson blood poured from my leg. He stared at me, his eyes pure ice, devoid of any pity: “Quinn, you’re nothing without me. I bought you one championship; I can damn well buy another one for someone else!” “You want to leave? Fine. But strip off every stitch of clothing you have on!” “Every single thing you’ve ever eaten or worn was provided by me, by *my* family!” Stella, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, huddled in Julian’s arms, trembling. “Julian, please don’t fight with Quinn because of me. It’s my fault for being so foolish. I don’t want Quinn’s artwork, okay?” A year ago, my friends from my old art circle encouraged me to submit my work to the largest, most prestigious art exhibition in the city. Many famous masters and influential figures would attend, and my reputation would skyrocket. But on the day of the exhibition, the name on my artwork was Stella’s. To promote her, Julian pulled strings to replace my name with hers on my artwork, bribing reporters to gush about her ‘natural talent’ and youthful, delicate face. I became the talk of the art world overnight. Everyone said the once-celebrated genius artist would soon be Julian’s discarded trophy wife. Julian pulled Stella closer, pressing a heavy kiss on her, but his eyes were still locked on me. “In this town, *I* make the rules!” “What’s yours is hers! That ‘champion’ title? I only bestow it on women who know their place and obey me!” “Guards! Strip her!” I stared at Julian, my eyes burning. A decade of marriage, and he could be so utterly heartless toward me. The house staff, caught between us, hesitated, not daring to move. At the entrance hall, I took off my own blazer, worn over my silk dress, and then my red-soled heels. The shoes thudded loudly to the floor. “Is that enough?” I turned to leave, but he ripped my dress. “You’ll leave this dress too, including your underwear!” I stared at Julian in disbelief. “I bought these clothes myself! They have nothing to do with you!” He sneered, “You bought them? You’ve been a housewife for ten years! Where would *you* get money like that? Strip her bare!” The staff swarmed me, tearing off the last remnants of my dress. I struggled fiercely, but they kicked my stomach hard. A dark, bloody discharge streamed from my body. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to cover my nakedness, biting my lip hard, tears streaming down my face. He just held Stella, looking down at me with smug satisfaction. “See? That’s what happens when you don’t listen!” Stella wrapped her arms around Julian’s neck and kissed him. “Stella’s the best girl, Julian. I’ll never make you angry, unlike some people who don’t know what’s good for them!” Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes burning with raw desire. He picked Stella up, and a startled gasp echoed from inside the room. Martha looked at me, her eyes filled with pity. She slipped off her own jacket and gently covered me. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, “what a terrible thing.” I buried my face in the jacket, finally letting out a sob. I never thought that the home I’d poured ten years of my life into, the only one who’d offer me a shred of dignity, would be Martha, who I’d known for less than three months. 0
Wearing Martha’s work uniform, I walked barefoot out of the mansion. The extended limo parked not far from the gate was my ticket to a new life. But I didn’t expect that at that critical moment, I’d be forcibly dragged back into Julian’s mansion by a group of people. It turned out Julian and Stella had gotten carried away with their games; the dripping hot wax set the sheets ablaze, burning Stella’s arm. Stella’s eyes filled with tears, looking utterly pitiful at Julian. “Julian, my arm is burned. How will I paint now? Please, you have to do something!” I noticed the dense red marks on Stella’s body, and the dog chains, whips, and red candles scattered on the floor. So, Julian, who was usually so calm and composed, secretly enjoyed this kind of thing. A bitter laugh escaped me, my heart a dull, numb ache. Stella noticed my gaze and, whether on purpose or by accident, shifted her body. A bunny tail dropped from the bed. She apologized, covering her mouth. “Oh, sorry! Julian really likes little bunnies.” “Quinn, you don’t mind, do you? After all, you’re older, and you can’t play like this anymore, right?” I looked at the girl’s fresh, youthful face, so tender it seemed water could be squeezed from it, and shook my head, smiling faintly. She still didn’t get it: youth is fleeting. This whole charade was utterly boring. I checked my watch. “Julian, did you drag me back here just to watch this spectacle? I have somewhere important to be!” Julian bristled. “Who said you could leave? Do you really think I’ll miss you?” “You think too highly of yourself!” “I brought you here to take a piece of *your* skin for Stella!” My eyes widened in disbelief as I stared at Julian. “Do you know what you’re saying? What right do you have to harm my body?” Julian leaned down, his eyes filled with ruthless intent. “You’re nothing but a dog I’ve kept around. Don’t talk to me about rights!” “Her delicate skin can’t have any scars, so we’ll just have to use yours.” “Dr. Evans, proceed!” A group of people rushed forward and pinned my hands. I struggled desperately, “No!” But the needle still plunged mercilessly into my skin, and I gradually lost consciousness.
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