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After the seventy-eighth time I received nude bed photos of my husband with his mistress. I posted all the photos on social media. My husband's mistress cried her heart out, shouting that she was utterly humiliated. The next second, Adrian Chase's call came through: "Delete them." I didn't delete them. Ten minutes later, all my social media accounts were logged into from remote locations. Deleting posts, deactivating accounts, removing trending topics. The entire operation took Adrian Chase less than ten minutes. Three days later, he came to me with divorce papers, his voice a soft threat: "It's just a game to humor the girl. Play along." I nodded and signed. He probably didn't believe that I could actually give up being Mrs. Chase. Half an hour after signing the divorce papers. Adrian Chase probably didn't know that his "innocent" lover actually had a vicious heart. Even after I divorced him, she still couldn't wait to have someone run me over with their car. I lost the baby in my belly. Good. With the baby gone, the last tie between him and me was gone too. My phone rang shrilly just as I was wheeled out of the operating room after my miscarriage. The anesthesia had just worn off, and the pain made beads of sweat break out on my forehead. I answered the call through the pain. Adrian Chase's icy voice came through: "Jade, take all your things and get out." "Okay." I agreed readily. Five years of marriage, and he'd kept one girl after another on the side. To keep me from interfering with his relationships with these girls. He had his secretary rent me a house on the outskirts of North City. He said: "If I want to find you, I'll contact you. I'll have my secretary transfer living expenses to you. Without my permission, you're not allowed to appear in front of me." Last time he knelt before me, begging me to come back. He sincerely said he'd settled down and wanted to live a good life with me from now on. I was foolishly moved to tears and believed him easily again. So I moved back home. But one week later. A girl stumbled during a modeling show, stepping on her dress hem and falling, bursting into his line of sight like a startled deer. I saw the way he looked at her. My resentful emotions screamed in my heart, but I had to admit---he'd fallen again. That evening, news of him taking the model into a hotel dominated the headlines. I became everyone's joke once more. This girl seemed truly special. For a whole year, Adrian Chase didn't tire of her. And in that year, I received seventy-eight provocative videos and photos, and countless harassing texts. Every word revealed the sender's desire to take my place. Until three hours ago. For the first time, he placed divorce papers before me: "It's just for show. Be good, don't make me angry." I struggled to hold back my emotions, looking at him with reddened eyes. Unwilling to sign. No matter how he'd played around before, this document had never appeared. But now, he calmly stroked my head, like soothing a bristling kitten. I knew the consequences of making Adrian Chase angry. Just like this time---he only needed to lift a finger. And he could solve all of Bianca Cole's problems. So I signed the divorce papers, writing only "Okay." When I returned home, I didn't see Adrian Chase or Bianca Cole. Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen. She saw me come back and asked happily: "Jade? How did the prenatal checkup go?" My face was pale. I shook my head. I'd originally planned to tell Adrian Chase tonight that I was pregnant. But plans couldn't keep up with changes. In just a few days, I'd lost my marriage and my child. "I had a miscarriage." Under Mrs. Hudson's shocked expression, I spoke slowly, "Maybe it's for the best. This child wouldn't have been happy anyway." Before Mrs. Hudson could respond, the door was pushed open. Bianca Cole was carrying armfuls of luxury goods. The dozen or so bodyguards behind her had their hands even fuller. Seeing me, Bianca Cole wasn't surprised. She leaned against my chaise lounge, smiling, but her words dripped with sarcasm. "Actually, I really don't understand---Adrian Chase treats you this way, yet you still won't leave. Why?" "Yesterday, I said I wanted chestnut cake, and without a word, he walked five kilometers through heavy snow to buy it for me." "Have you ever gotten that kind of treatment?" I was silent for a moment. Yesterday was the anniversary of my father's death. When I contacted Adrian Chase through his assistant, I heard the wind howling through his phone. But I still clearly heard him say he wasn't available. So he'd gone to buy chestnut cake for Bianca Cole. I helplessly clutched at my clothes. Once upon a time, Adrian Chase was the person who loved me most in this world, aside from my parents. He was my family's driver's son, not some noble identity, completely out of place among the surrounding young masters and ladies. Back then, the other children loved to bully him. But he never cared what others thought of him. He said: "I only care about Jade." When I had a fever as a child, he stayed by my bedside all night without sleep. When the earthquake happened, he shielded me with his body, letting debris hit his head. He endured the pain without a sound, even gently comforting my emotions. In college, he and I had an argument. Holding my favorite candied hawthorn and a handwritten ten-thousand-word apology letter, he stubbornly stood outside the dorm building through heavy snow all night. On graduation day, we had our wedding. At the wedding, when my father placed my hand in his, his tone was serious. "If I find out you've changed your heart, I'll take her away without hesitation. She doesn't lack people to love her." Adrian Chase clenched his fist and solemnly promised he would never change his heart. He said: "I want to make you the happiest person in the world, to banish sadness from your life." From school uniforms to wedding dress---the envy of everyone. A year after marriage, my father passed away, and Adrian Chase managed everything in the company. He was exhausted, collapsing into the hospital several times from overwork. I felt sorry for him. The formerly pampered young lady cooked for him, making soup with her own hands. Every day after work, he'd bring me a bouquet of my favorite yellow roses. He said they were flowers full of love. Every day he'd sit in the courtyard with me counting stars. He'd hold me as I fell asleep. When did things start to change?