My husband Adrian Holt’s cheating scandal had just blown up online, and I jumped right in to clean up the mess. “My husband didn’t cheat. I was jealous and made up the whole thing about him and his secretary, Monica. I apologize to her.” The internet erupted: “Lying bitch! Go to hell!” “You think we’re stupid? Get your head checked!” Staring at the screen full of hate, I called Adrian. “Are you happy now?” He laughed softly. “If only you’d been this reasonable before. As a reward, I’ll make time for your prenatal visit. But tomorrow I’m taking Monica to Iceland to see the lights. Move your appointment.” After I hung up, the doctor behind me pressed the form toward me, voice urgent. “You need to sign the termination consent now, or you won’t make it through the night.” I survived. I stayed in the hospital for seven days. Adrian never came to see me. After leaving, my first stop was a shabby clinic on the edge of town. Ten years ago, it was here that Adrian had knelt beside my mother’s hospital bed and sworn his vow. “I’ll love Emma forever. I’ll never let her suffer, not even a little.” Behind the clinic, in the back alley under an old locust tree, we had buried a metal box together. We promised to open it in ten years. The box was rusted shut, but the paper inside remained almost whole. The first line was in Adrian’s bold, sweeping handwriting: “To my dearest Miss Rayne, my future wife. I wonder how you have spent this past decade.” Seeing the intimate way he’d addressed me on the page, I felt a sharp, cold irony. “Did he buy you a ring?” Yes. A small diamond I’d cherished like a treasure, though it wasn’t a tenth the size of the one on Monica’s hand. “How’s the company? Are we married?” The company had grown larger and larger, and so had the circle of women around him. Every time I mentioned marriage, Adrian found a way to deflect. And so we remained-ten years, tangled together with no ceremony. “Do we have a baby?” We did. Once. Stillborn, his little body purple and blue. He never made a sound. And now I was pregnant again, because Monica wanted a child as a novelty. Adrian said she was a career woman who couldn’t afford to sacrifice her figure or her time, so he wanted me to carry it for them. But the child was deformed. Carrying it would kill me. The next question was mine. “Mr. Holt, what do you think has been the most important thing in our relationship over these ten years?” What would Adrian answer? Probably trust. After all, he used to snap, “Emma, can’t you just trust me? Monica and I are nothing. She’s an asset to the company, not your rival.” I’d tried to convince myself that they were just work partners. But the way they looked at each other didn’t lie. And their behavior certainly didn’t lie. I remembered the morning of his first board meeting as CEO. I’d gotten up early to iron his shirt and chosen a royal blue tie. Just after I’d carefully knotted it for him, Monica breezed through the door, holding up another tie with a laugh. “Adrian, today’s occasion is particularly formal. I’d suggest this subtle-patterned tie instead-it’s more dignified.” Adrian barely hesitated. He untied the knot I’d just made and put on the one from Monica’s hand. He patted my shoulder. “Monica’s been by my side long enough that she understands these dress codes better than you do.”
The second place I went was the sea. For ten years I’d said I wanted a wedding by the ocean. It never happened. I lay alone on the yacht’s bed, aching from the lingering pain of surgery. Monica called, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Adrian’s packing for Iceland today. Be a dear and do it for him, won’t you? I’ll swing by to collect his things soon.” She paused, then laughed lightly. “But don’t bother with underwear. I bought new ones-he loves both the size and style.” The cramping in my lower abdomen suddenly intensified. I bit my lip hard, not letting myself make a sound. In the past, every time Monica jabbed at me like this, I would lose control. Like hysterically calling Adrian to interrogate him, or storming straight to HR to have them fire Monica. Just like last week, when Monica had feigned concern. “Emma, they say a woman’s body changes after childbirth. Things get…looser down there. That’s why Adrian doesn’t want me to have a baby. So thank you for taking on this trouble for me.” I’d smashed up her office on the spot. The commotion attracted swarms of media coverage. After that, scandalous stories about Adrian and his secretary were everywhere. Right at the critical stage before going public, this was a devastating blow to Adrian’s company. He ordered me to publicly clear Monica’s name as soon as possible. “If you keep making trouble, the moment that baby in your belly is born, I’ll take it away. You’ll never see it for the rest of your life.” On my bedside table sat a painting of sunflowers. My mother had painted it. It was the only thing I’d taken from home. Originally, my mother had left me many things, but later, to pay off debts, I’d sold everything except this one painting. On countless sleepless nights, seeing that painting brought me some small measure of comfort. I reached out to grab it. The painting crashed to the floor. Something fell out from behind it. I forgot about the pain and froze completely. Inside were actually some photos of Adrian from when he was young. When my mother first brought him to the city, he was only seventeen. In the photo, the teenager wore a faded, well-washed old T-shirt, his back ramrod straight, his eyes naive but sharp. Back then, his back didn’t yet bear those hideous scars. My mother had fully funded his college education. After graduation, I naturally joined my father’s company too, and our futures looked bright. Until my philandering father died in a stripper’s bed. The illegitimate children who’d always been invisible suddenly showed their claws, fighting over my father’s inheritance. In the end, all I was left with was a shell of a company with only ten employees, and massive debts. My mother had a heart attack and collapsed too. But Adrian stayed with me through it all. The debt collectors were relentless. We hid and ran, living in constant fear every day. Once, we were cornered in an alley. He immediately pulled me into his arms: “Don’t be afraid! I’m here!” The scars on his back were all left from that time.
We survived the hardest two years and finally paid off all the debts. The company finally started showing signs of improvement. I tentatively brought it up. “We should get married.” But he froze for a moment, then smiled and ruffled my hair. “What’s the rush? Now’s not the right time. Wait a little longer. Once I’ve saved enough money to get you the most dazzling wedding ring and throw you a wedding of the century, then you can marry me in style.” He leaned down to kiss me, to soothe me. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one who’ll ever be my wife. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” After that, his social engagements visibly increased. And a new secretary appeared by his side. Monica began infiltrating every corner of Adrian’s life. By the time I realized something was wrong, it was already too late. I fought with him countless times. I gave him two choices: either fire Monica, or marry me. He stayed silent and chose neither. The disappointment in my heart kept accumulating. When I got pregnant for the first time, our cold war was at its worst. During pregnancy, I threw up violently, my legs swelled badly, and I’d wake up at night with cramps. He rarely came home. I toughed it out alone. He knew I loved the ocean. As usual, he booked a five-day, five-night luxury cruise for my birthday. But on the deck, I saw Monica, smiling and radiant. On the second day of the trip, the cruise ship had a sinking accident. Terrified crowds surged toward the lifeboats. Holding my heavy belly, I was panicked and helpless. He’d paid a premium for two spots on a lifeboat. He’d just climbed aboard and immediately reached out to help me. But Monica rushed out in a panic, crying and pushing me aside. “Adrian, she’s pregnant-the rescue crew will definitely prioritize getting her on the next boat! But what about me…” Adrian actually hesitated. The crowd jostled violently. Something fell from above. I slipped, and instantly the seawater swallowed me. “Emma!” When I woke up, agonizing pain radiated from my lower body. The doctor told me the baby was dead. A boy. I only looked at him once before tears poured out uncontrollably-his features looked so much like Adrian’s. Halfway through the cruise, I stumbled out of bed. I opened the urn I’d brought from home. “Baby,” I said softly to the churning waves, “Mommy is so sorry.” “Is it okay if Mommy leaves you here?” My tears blurred my vision. I scattered the ashes across the ocean surface. After losing the baby, I became more and more silent. Whether Adrian spoke sweetly or exploded in rage, I couldn’t even be bothered to lift my eyelids in response. He couldn’t take it anymore. He threw himself at my bedside, his eyes red as he roared. “What do you want from me so you’ll forgive me? Tell me!” After that, he came home almost every night, forcibly sharing the bed with me. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t respond either. I got pregnant again. Looking at the pregnancy test results, I felt a faint stirring in my heart. I hoped the child could come back to me. Adrian finally agreed to promise he would cut things off with Monica completely. His schedule became more regular. Occasionally, he’d bring home a bouquet of lilies to help me sleep. At night, he would wrap his arms around my increasingly heavy waist from behind. Maybe this child’s arrival really could change something. But not long after, I found a pair of stockings in Adrian’s suit pocket that didn’t belong to me. They still carried Monica’s body heat, like a slap across my face. I went to the company in a daze. Through the glass, I saw Monica-the one Adrian said he’d already fired. Her workstation was right across from Adrian’s, with a large bouquet of lilies on her desk. When she saw me, she wasn’t surprised at all. She even provocatively raised her left ring finger, showing off her ring. I grabbed everything within reach and smashed it wildly at that glaring scene! Adrian rushed out, his face ashen with fury. In his rage, he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Who let you in here? This is the office! If you want to make a scene, go home and do it there!” I covered my face, looking at the disgust in his eyes. How did we get to this point? After the scandal broke, the stock price plummeted. The board was in chaos. Adrian ordered me to immediately clear Monica’s name. “Issue a statement saying everything was your delusional imagination from a mental breakdown! Otherwise-” his threatening gaze slid toward my swollen belly. “I want to see your clarification statement before I leave the country. Monica’s been in a bad mood lately. I’m taking her to Iceland to relax-she’s always loved the Northern Lights there.” The last place I went was the cemetery. Today was the anniversary of my mother’s death. I gently pressed my cheek against the gravestone and whispered, “Mom, I came to see you.” I lit the paper money I’d brought. Then I took out the sunflower painting and gently placed it in the fire. Finally, there was a stack of Adrian’s photos. My fingertips brushed over that familiar yet strange face in the photos as his features twisted and warped in the flames. Everything burned. I burned what my mother had left me. I burned the last trace of my feelings for him. After losing that baby, I truly had no one left. I unlocked my phone. A tidal wave of hatred flooded the screen. There was nothing left in this world to stay for. I slowly drew out the dagger I’d prepared. I pressed its edge to the inside of my left wrist. I pushed down hard. Bright red blood gushed out, trickling down my pale wrist and dripping onto the cold stone base of the gravestone. Then, a familiar ringtone cut through the silence.
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