**Avery’s POV** “Mrs. Sterling, I’ve reviewed the supplementary clauses for your divorce agreement. There are no legal loopholes.” Mr. Davies’ voice was calm and professional over the phone. “The marriage contract you signed with Mr. Sterling four years ago will officially expire on the twenty-seventh of next month. At that time, this divorce agreement will automatically take effect, and you will regain your complete freedom.” “Got it.” I hung up, my gaze fixed on the massive wedding portrait in the center of the living room wall. In the picture, I stood in a designer wedding gown before the blue-domed, white-walled beauty of Santorini. It was the only time in my life I dared to get so brazenly close to Dean Sterling. But he was so distant, devoid of any newlywed joy. Love or not, it hung there, blatant, without a single word needed. “It’s finally over.” I sighed. Four years ago, I signed that ridiculous contract. My wedding night held no tenderness, only a document handed to me by Dean, accompanied by his icy, cutting words: “Avery, remember your place. I married you because Chloe needed time to cool off. For these four years, you’ll be my wife, Mrs. Sterling, and don’t even think about anything that doesn’t belong to you.” Back then, I naively believed four years would be enough to melt a block of ice. But four years passed, and I understood: some ice would never melt for me. A soft click from the entrance hall broke my thoughts. Dean was back. His tall figure, bringing with it a chilling aura, stepped into the house. I took a deep breath and went to meet him. I took his discarded suit jacket and hung it up. I knelt halfway, opening the shoe cabinet and pulling out his soft house slippers. This action, I had rehearsed for four years. Dean seemed entirely accustomed to it. He pulled off his tie and tossed it carelessly onto the console table by the entrance. “Don’t forget to attend the group’s fiftieth-anniversary celebration next month.” My hands, changing his shoes, hitched for a fraction of a second. I gently shook my head. “I might have something that day. I won’t be able to make it.” After that day, I wouldn’t be Mrs. Sterling anymore. But those words, I couldn’t bring myself to say. Dean’s brow instantly creased at my reply. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing *now*?” His voice dripped with impatience. “Because I’ve been spending more time with Chloe lately? Avery, I warned you the first day we got married: don’t fantasize about things that don’t belong to you. And cut out that pathetic, resentful act; it frankly disgusts me.” I was just preparing to disappear from his world entirely after the contract expired, never to be an eyesore again. But he thought I was protesting his kindness to Chloe in this way. I opened my mouth, then closed it, saying nothing. Dean’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and his expression instantly softened, revealing a tenderness I’d never seen him show me. Chloe’s sobs drifted from the receiver, and Dean asked, his voice laced with concern and gentleness: “Chloe? What’s wrong? Don’t cry, tell me slowly.” Chloe on the other end seemed to be saying something disjointed. Dean kept reassuring her: “Don’t be scared, I’m here. Where are you right now? Okay, I’m on my way!” He hung up, not even sparing a glance for me, still half-kneeling on the floor. He grabbed his car keys and rushed out. His movements were so hurried that his shoulder slammed heavily into my body. I was already off-balance; with that immense force, my body lurched uncontrollably backward. My forehead crashed hard against the sharp edge of the doorframe. Excruciating pain instantly exploded from my temple, and my vision swam with flashing lights. But Dean’s figure had already vanished through the door, rushing into the cold night, without even a single glance my way. The enormous house fell silent. I leaned against the wall, slowly getting to my feet, the throbbing pain in my temple making me dizzy. I walked to the full-length mirror by the entrance, staring at the pale woman reflected there. My temple was already a rapidly swelling, angry red, with faint traces of bruising beneath. I went into the living room, found an ice pack in the medicine cabinet, and pressed it to the injury. The chill of the ice pierced my skin, yet it was nothing compared to the dull ache in my chest, a persistent, gnawing pain like a blunt knife repeatedly dragging across my heart. For four years, this was how I’d lived, repeatedly comforting myself. Smoothing over those visible and invisible wounds, then continuing to play the role of the docile, attentive Mrs. Sterling. Late into the night, my phone rang. It was Dean. I swiped to answer. His voice came through the static, devoid of any emotion. “Come to the hospital.” I instinctively asked, “What happened? Are you hurt?” “Just come.” The call was ruthlessly cut off, leaving only a cold dial tone. Without another thought, I grabbed a coat and rushed out. The night wind was biting, and I drove as fast as I could. What on earth had happened? Was it Chloe? Or him? I sped to the hospital, running toward the emergency room building as soon as I parked. From a distance, in the corridor outside the operating room, I immediately spotted that familiar tall figure. Dean stood before the operating room door, its red light glowing. He was holding someone tightly in his arms. Chloe buried her face in his chest, trembling with sobs. They were embracing so tightly, the scene was so ironic, as if I, the one who had rushed over, was the outsider. 2. **Avery’s POV** The air in the corridor, permeated by the scent of disinfectant, felt particularly cold. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling as if all the blood in my veins had frozen solid in that frigid atmosphere. I watched the two figures locked in a tight embrace not far away. Dean had his head bowed, softly comforting the sobbing Chloe in his arms, the lines of his profile gentle, as if he were a completely different person. That was the tenderness I had spent four years trying to earn, to no avail. I could barely breathe. It took me a long time to make my already stiff legs move again, one slow step after another, toward them. Dean heard my approach and looked up. The moment he saw me, the fleeting tenderness in his eyes quickly vanished, replaced by that familiar, chilling indifference. “What happened?” I forced myself to speak. Dean looked at me with those terrifyingly still eyes and spoke slowly. “Chloe’s mother had an acute leukemia flare-up. Her condition is critical, and she needs an immediate bone marrow transplant.” I instinctively asked, “What?” “We’ve done an urgent city-wide search of bone marrow registries, but we haven’t found a suitable match.” Dean looked at me, as if stating an indifferent fact as mundane as the weather, completely unrelated to me. “I got tested. It was a match. Now, you’re here to sign.” “…You’re going to donate bone marrow?” My pupils tightened. I knew what a bone marrow transplant entailed. He was going to take such a risk for Chloe’s mother? “I didn’t call you here for your opinion.” Dean coldly cut me off, then gritted out the two most cruel words: “Only because you’re family.” Only a spouse had the authority to sign. So that’s it. My sole value as his wife was to provide a legally necessary signature when he decided to risk his health for another woman. How ironic. “Okay.” “I’ll sign.” I nodded. A nurse promptly offered a surgical consent form and a pen. I took them, looked down at the signature line, and quickly wrote my name. As I finished the last stroke, I felt utterly drained, as if all the strength had been sucked out of me. Dean released Chloe, helping her to a nearby chair. He murmured a few soothing words, then turned and strode toward the operating room. Just as the door was about to close, I called out to him: “Dean!” He paused, turning his head to look at me, his gaze devoid of emotion. For a moment, I wanted to ask him. In these four years, had you ever, even for a second, felt anything for me? But meeting his cold eyes, I knew the answer would only bring me more disappointment. In the end, I only managed one sentence: “Be careful.” His eyes seemed to flicker almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. He turned and walked into the operating room without a backward glance. I finally, completely understood. His love for Chloe was soul-deep, capable of risking his own life. And my four years of devotion and waiting? Nothing more than a cruel joke. In the corridor, I sat on a cold bench. Chloe, opposite me, wiped her tears and sat down next to me, speaking in a soft, gentle tone: “Mrs. Sterling, I’m so sorry, I’ve troubled Dean again because of my affairs.” “I was so foolish back then, thinking leaving him would force him to forget me. I never imagined he’d still love me so much.” “Do you know? One year, he secretly flew to Paris, all because I casually mentioned liking a certain jewelry necklace that was about to be released.” Chloe smiled, continuing to needle me. “But I was still angry then, so I just threw the jewelry box back at him.” I remembered that necklace. Dean had returned from that business trip to Paris and casually tossed a delicate velvet box to me, his tone indifferent: “Someone gave it to me. I don’t like it. You deal with it.” I opened it and was thrilled to see the dazzling four-leaf clover necklace. I thought it was his first, and only, gift to me. I treasured it in the bottom of my jewelry box, never daring to wear it, often taking it out and gazing at it for hours. Turns out, the thing I held so dear was nothing more than Chloe’s discarded trash. “And another time,” Chloe’s voice drifted in again. “I was feeling down in the middle of the night, so I posted a really sad social media post. Guess what? He actually flew from the country to New York overnight just to be with me. Even though I didn’t want to see him, he stood outside in the rain all night long.” I remembered that time. It was after Dean returned from a business trip, soaking wet, and he forcefully pinned me beneath him, taking me with a raw, almost desperate passion. I had naively thought it was proof of his longing for me after days away, a breakthrough in our relationship. Turns out, that wasn’t love at all, nor was it passion. It was merely him taking out his unfulfilled desire for another woman on me, his readily available substitute. “These four years,” Chloe’s voice was full of triumph. “I ignored him, hoping he’d give up, but Dean relentlessly pursued me, sending someone to deliver a bouquet of Lisianthus to me every single day.” The language of Lisianthus flowers is unchanging love, eternal waiting. I felt a sudden wave of dizziness. He didn’t like any plants in the house; he said he was allergic. Because of this, I, who always loved fresh flowers, hadn’t bought a single one in four years. Yet, he had effortlessly ordered flowers for someone else for an entire four years. I was a complete and utter fool. Four years of marriage, a meticulously planned deception. “I’m leaving now.” I couldn’t listen to her anymore. I stood up, pushing open the hospital doors, my exit turning into a desperate escape. I feared that if I stayed one second longer, I would drown completely in this four-year-long illusion. 3. **Avery’s POV** After fleeing the hospital, I locked myself in the villa for three days straight. The necklace I had carefully treasured was someone else’s discarded trash. The passion I thought we shared was merely a tool for someone else’s frustration. The late-night companionship I cherished was nothing more than me witnessing a prolonged declaration of love for another. Four years, fourteen hundred and sixty days—I had lived as a complete substitute, a shadow. Not even a shadow, just an insignificant backdrop in his love story. The butler knocked on my bedroom door. “Madam, Mr. Sterling Sr. requests that you and Mr. Sterling join him for dinner at the estate tonight.” I didn’t refuse. It was a Sterling family tradition, a monthly gathering, absolutely non-negotiable. It took me a long time to cover the exhaustion and pallor on my face with thick concealer. I changed into a proper long dress, once again playing the role of the gentle and virtuous Mrs. Sterling. This was the last time. In the evening, Dean returned, his face a little pale, but still as tall and proud as ever. Seeing me, he simply gave a faint nod, a mere acknowledgment, then went straight upstairs to change. Throughout it all, he didn’t ask why I had suddenly left that day, nor did he ask how I had been these past few days. It was as if I were merely a prop needed to attend a family dinner. The Sterling estate was brightly lit, but the atmosphere was as oppressive as ever. Mr. Sterling Sr., Dean’s father and the group’s patriarch, sat at the head of the table. Halfway through dinner, an older relative spoke with concern: “Dean, you and Avery have been married for four years now, but there’s still no news of a baby? We’re all waiting for grandchildren, you know.” At those words, everyone’s eyes fixated on my flat stomach. Oh no. Dean put down his cutlery, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and said indifferently: “No rush.” Those three light words instantly ignited Mr. Sterling Sr.’s anger. He slammed his fork down on the table. “No rush?!” Mr. Sterling Sr. glared at him. “You’re thirty already, how much longer do you want to wait?! Avery, I ask you, as a wife, do you bear no responsibility at all?!” The矛头(blame/focus) instantly shifted to me. I put down my fork, stood up, and bowed my head slightly. “Dad, it’s my fault.” “Of course, it’s your fault!” Mr. Sterling Sr.’s voice grew even more severe. “I heard you even signed some paper a few days ago, agreeing to Dean’s bone marrow donation surgery? Absurd! The Sterling family’s lineage, our bodies are precious! Is it something a mere wife like you is qualified to decide?!” “Dad, this was my own decision.” Dean interjected, frowning. “You shut up!” Mr. Sterling Sr. snapped. “You have no right to speak here! Avery, you’ve been married into this family for four years, haven’t given birth to a child, and now you can’t even look after your husband’s body. You are a most derelict wife!” Saying that, he gestured to a maid. The maid immediately brought over a bowl of dark, bitter-smelling liquid medicine. “This is medicine I specifically had a renowned doctor prescribe for you. Drink it!” Mr. Sterling Sr. commanded. I looked at the bowl of medicine, my stomach churning. For the first time, I chose to resist. “Dad, I’m sorry, I won’t drink this medicine.” Everyone was stunned, including Dean, who gave me an unexpected glance. Mr. Sterling Sr.’s face was ashen. He pointed a finger at my nose and roared: “You dare defy me! Are you challenging the Sterling family’s rules? Guards!” Two burly bodyguards immediately stepped forward. “Take her to the courtyard! Make her kneel! She can get up when she’s understood her mistake!” I didn’t resist, allowing the bodyguards to lead me out. Throughout it all, Dean sat there, watching indifferently. He didn’t even say a single word in my defense, only averting his gaze the moment I was led away. As if everything about to happen in the courtyard had nothing to do with him. It was a bitter cold autumn night. The Sterling family discipline had always been strict; this wasn’t the first time I’d been punished by kneeling, but it would be the last. After this kneeling, there would be no more. The cold seeped from my knees into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. Through the study window, I could clearly see Dean’s silhouette. He didn’t come out. Instead, he sat on the study sofa, on a phone call. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could imagine that on the other end of the line was undoubtedly Chloe. Time ticked by, minute by minute. The sharp pain in my knees had turned numb, and the cold gradually blurred my consciousness. I didn’t know how long I had knelt, only that my body grew colder and colder, and the scene before my eyes began to spin. A second before losing consciousness entirely, I saw Dean in the study finally hang up the phone, stand up, and draw the curtains. He had completely cut off my last sliver of hope. Turns out, he wasn’t unaware; he simply didn’t care. Everything went black. I lost all sensation.
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