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.”
“You know how much I hate the media.” My hand shook as I held the phone. I knew Dean hated interviews, hated the media digging into his past. The first time he ever accepted an interview was when the media took candid photos of me and widely reported that I wasn’t good enough for him. Dean had even gathered dozens of online media outlets, smiling so gently into the camera. “My partner is the best partner in the world. Being even a little worthy of her is my luck.” He even punched a reporter who badmouthed me, not caring about his image. From then on, everyone in New York knew that the one person you couldn’t afford to offend was me. But just three years later, the same reporters were waiting to see me fall. I couldn’t take it anymore. When I got home, a strapless top and a man’s shirt were strewn across the living room, trailing one by one into the master bedroom. The sounds of a man and woman laughing playfully came from the wedding bed I had personally chosen. The door wasn’t closed. The girl arched her back in pleasure, looking up, and her eyes met mine. A wave of brutal emotion instantly tore through my mind. I leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing. Dean’s voice came from behind her. “You can go home now.” The girl didn’t move, looking at me curiously. “So, this is your wife? She does look pretty old, no wonder you’re not interested.” Dean gave her a faint glance. “I said, leave now.” The girl didn’t dare argue, pouting unhappily. “Fine, but I’ll be waiting patiently for you tonight!” The girl bounced up, ambiguously stroking Dean’s arm. “You have to promise me you won’t touch this old woman! You’re all mine.” Dean patted her bottom. “Alright, you’re all mine.” Dean watched her retreating back and chuckled. “Cute girl, right?” My fingernails dug deeply into my flesh. Maybe I couldn’t let go. Or maybe it was because I had no family, no friends; Dean had once been my entire world. I wanted to hold on to something, anything. “Dean, if you think we’re separating, you’re dreaming!” I caused a huge scene at the company, and as a founding shareholder, I easily made sure Chloe would never be able to hold her head up in this industry again. But what I didn’t expect was that when I returned from my business trip, my assistant had been replaced by the girl I had sponsored for seven years. I had saved her from human traffickers, paid for her education, and treated her like my own sister. She had once knelt before me, bumping her head on the ground, swearing to repay me for life. But when I cornered her in Dean’s office, she looked at me defiantly. “Claire, we just couldn’t resist.” I overturned his office desk, screaming at him like a lunatic. “Why are you doing this to me?!” Dean just looked at me indifferently. “So many people want to get into my bed; as long as they’re young and beautiful, I’ll take them.” I couldn’t stand it. I mobilized all my resources to boycott him, made a scene at that girl’s university, used every means to make his life miserable. Dean, however, just watched me squirm, even with a hint of indulgence. “Claire, your little tantrums are actually kind of cute.” But then he gave me a taste of his own medicine. He donated a building to a university abroad and sent that girl out of the country. Then, he colluded with other shareholders and ousted me from the board. The day I was kicked out of the company like a dog, surrounded by reporters, Dean was sending that girl off abroad. Making sure everyone knew his devotion had found a new home. Bold, passionate photos of the two of them abroad started flooding my phone. I became the laughingstock of all New York. In those photos, I also saw a necklace. Dean had given her the first gift he ever gave me. The necklace wasn’t expensive, only a few hundred dollars. But that was when we were squeezed into a leaky basement, sharing a single piece of toast because we were so broke. Life was so hard, yet on my eighteenth birthday, Dean still pushed himself to the limit to get me that birthday gift. “What everyone else has, my Claire deserves too.” “Claire, trust me. I’ll always love you, and I’ll make sure you have a good life.” I cried, begging him on the phone to give me back the necklace. This time, he finally answered. Through the receiver, he sighed with a hint of exasperation. “Claire, it’s just a few hundred-dollar trinket. My little mistress liked it, so I gave it to her. You wouldn’t do it anyway.” He was doing it on purpose. He knew exactly how to make me hurt. The last thread in my mind finally snapped. I plunged a utility knife into my arm.
Dean had to come back. “Claire, it’s not like you don’t have other options. Why are you putting yourself through this?” “If it’s that painful, then let’s just break up.” I lay on the hospital bed, lost in thought, remembering a time I was misdiagnosed with cancer. Dean had prayed for me for three days and three nights in a church. But he only cried the day he found out it was a misdiagnosis. “I almost thought I was going to lose you. I didn’t know how I would live without you.” My mental state was terrible, and Dean stayed by my side in the hospital for a while. But eventually, he couldn’t resist. Young bodies held a fatal attraction for him. He started again—influencers, minor celebrities, every woman caught in a scandal with him was younger and more delicate than the last. The youngest was even 18. But the last woman caught by the media was different. Her name was Brenda. An ordinary figure, plain looks, with wrinkles around her eyes that she couldn’t hide. Thirty-three, even a few years older than me. I threw a photo violently at his face. “Didn’t you say you liked young women? Explain yourself!” He picked up the photo, gently wiping away a speck of dust from her face. “She’s different. Her massage technique is good, and she’s very gentle.” My head buzzed, and I asked in disbelief. “Haven’t I done these things for you?” He often got headaches, so I had studied massage for two years. I burst into uncontrolled sobs, but Dean just looked at me coldly. “She’s a very gentle woman. Don’t try any of your tricks on her, or else…” Gradually, Dean stopped coming home at all. I would stake out places where he was likely to appear, just wanting him to come home. But Dean, fearing I might harm Brenda, obtained a restraining order from the police. Forbidding me from coming near them. He even spent a fortune, buying Brenda an astronomically priced diamond ring. I smashed the TV, my heart felt tightly wrapped in asphalt, aching so much I couldn’t breathe. He had proposed to me the moment we were old enough. But back then, starting our business was tough; we were deep in debt, and mice scurried through our apartment at night. I picked out a three-hundred-dollar plain silver ring. Happily, I let him put it on my finger. He clutched the ring, his eyes red for a long time. He said that when things got better, he’d give me the best things in the world to make up for it. But later, when things did get better, he could easily afford the best rings. And he put one on someone else’s hand. What finally crushed me was that Dean, who always claimed to enjoy his freedom, cut off all his other women. And proposed to Brenda with that very ring. “She’s older, she wants to settle down, enjoying freedom isn’t that important anymore.” I was completely shattered. I broke through the police’s barrier. A group of people held me back as I screamed hysterically at them. “Dean, just tell me, why *her*? Why can *she* have it?!” Dean shielded Brenda behind him and coldly glanced at me. “What are the police for? Take her away.” A surge of indignation ignited within me. I pulled out a utility knife and held it to my throat. Threatening to kill myself if he didn’t come with me. Dean actually laughed. “You didn’t die last time, did you? And you’re still using a knife.” My fragile composure broke again, and I struggled free from the police. Dean impatiently pushed me. “Stop making a scene! If you want to die, go do it at home.” I lost my balance and tumbled down the grand spiral staircase of the mansion. I was pregnant, though I didn’t know it then. The baby was gone.
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