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Sydney caught her husband, Caleb, jerking off to his sister-in-law’s photo. It was the day after his brother’s funeral, and the widow moved into their home—at Caleb’s invitation. Sydney had always known why Caleb married her: she was quiet. She never made a scene. Easy to deal with. So when she divorced him, she did it the same way—quietly, cleanly, without ever drawing his attention. She went back to her world and became someone far beyond his reach. When Caleb finally realized what he’d lost, he came begging, kneeling for her to take him back. Sydney just wrapped her arm around her fiancé, the man whose name ruled this city, and walked away. Quietly. It's their wedding anniversary, Sydney had planned a surprise trip and taken a late-night flight to the city where Caleb worked. Instead of a warm reunion, she overheard him chatting with two friends. "Caleb, man, I gotta say it. Running off every year on your anniversary? That's cold. Sydney's been nothing but good to you." Caleb, usually composed and gentlemanly, looked weary. "You think I want this? If I didn't avoid her, Penny would never believe I haven't touched her all these years." "Are you out of your damn mind?" One friend, clearly holding back, finally snapped. "Penelope is your sister-in-law!" He snorted. "And what about Sydney? You keep treating her like this. Aren't you afraid Julian Sterling's gonna come after you?" "He won't." Caleb rubbed his fingers together calmly. "She married me. That was it for them. Julian's had her blocked on WhatsApp for three years now." Outside the room, Sydney walked away quietly. Her steps were steady, but her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly. When Sydney left the club, the sky opened up. She did not react as the rain drenched her like a broken doll. That night, she took a late flight back to Jouleston. The moment she got home, she fell ill. She burned with fever for two days. Just as she started to recover, Lucas Hampton, Caleb's older brother, had an accident. … A week later, Lucas's funeral was held in Jouleston. Sydney had barely slept two or three hours each night at the Hampton residence. After the funeral, as she stepped out of the cemetery, her body moved forward while her soul dragged behind. Their driver waited at the gate. Sydney climbed in and closed her eyes. "Jack, take me home." The funeral was over, but the drama at the Hamptons had just begun. Lucas was the eldest son and the family's golden child. He died because Penelope had insisted on skydiving. His equipment failed, and he fell from high altitude. By the time they reached the hospital, it was to stitch his body, not to save him. The Hampton family's fury at Penelope had not cooled. Sydney had no interest in watching her husband defend another woman. She had her own life to manage. Unexpectedly, as the car started moving, the rear door opened. Caleb stood there, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. Tall, lean, composed, but with a rare flicker of discomfort on his face. Sydney barely glanced before spotting the woman next to him. It was Penelope, and she was holding a chubby little boy. Penelope and Lucas' son, Timothy Hampton, was four years old. He was round and soft like a beach ball. Before Sydney could ask what they were doing there, Timothy scrambled into the car as if it was his. "Aunt Sydney, can you give me and Mommy a ride home?" Sydney furrowed her brow and glanced at Caleb. He pressed his lips together. "Mom and Dad are still furious. Let Penny and Timmy stay at our place for now." Sydney almost laughed out loud, then remembered where she was and held it in. So now he was sending Penelope and her son to stay with them while he faced the heat back at the Hamptons? What a noble man. … Back home, the housekeeper, Nancy Potts, had already prepared the guest room. Caleb must have called ahead. Sydney did not care. After a shower, she collapsed into bed and slept like the dead. When she finally woke, it was 9:00 p.m. As she reached for her phone, it rang. It was her best friend, Tiffany Voss. "I've drafted the divorce agreement just like you wanted. Want me to send it over for you to review?" Tiffany asked. "Thanks, Ms. Voss, my beloved lawyer." Sydney's voice was groggy and soft. "No need. Just call a courier and have it delivered." "You're in a rush?" Tiffany sounded concerned. "Are you sure about this? Caleb might not be the best husband, but in some ways…" Sydney switched on the lamp and sat up. Her head cleared. "I'm sure, Tiff. I caught him jerking off to another woman's photo." "What?" Tiffany's mind blanked for a second. She hadn't expected someone as reserved as Sydney to blurt out something like that. But what stunned her more was that scumbag Caleb actually had the nerve to humiliate Sydney like this. Tiffany muttered a curse under her breath, then said, "Screw delivery. I'll bring the agreement myself. Then I'll head back to the office and work overtime." There was no way she was letting some two-wheeled courier outrun her four wheels today. After hanging up, even Sydney was surprised by how easily the words had come out. Maybe it was because the resentment had been building for so long, clogging her chest, her thoughts, every part of her. Just like that night at the club, when Caleb had said it himself—he had never touched her. No one would believe it, but after three years of marriage, she was still a virgin. At first, she had wondered if something might be wrong with him. But later, she caught him more than once in his study, clutching a photo album and pleasuring himself. The low, guttural moans he had made—each one had felt like a slap to her face. The night she flew back to Jouleston, groggy from fever meds, she used what little strength she had to pry open the locked cabinet in his study. Inside, she found the album. Every page was filled with Penelope—radiant, vibrant, full of life. Every smile and glance was captured like a treasure. Sydney had never felt more like the punchline of a bad joke. … Sydney hadn't expected Tiffany to show up so fast. She had just finished getting ready and hadn't even made it downstairs when the doorbell rang. Tiffany arrived with the kind of energy that said, "If the courthouse was open, I would've dragged you both there on the spot." Sydney felt a little steadier with the agreement in hand. But then a sharp crack echoed through the house. Before she could react, Nancy rushed down the stairs, face tight with worry. "Ms. Wilson—" "What is it?" "Timmy broke the family photo in your bedroom." Sydney assumed it was just the frame. But then Nancy handed her the pieces, and her face went pale. Her parents had died in an accident when she was five. That photo had been all she had left of them. Her only keepsake. She clutched the shattered remains and stormed upstairs. At the top of the stairs, Penelope stepped out of her room with her son in her arms. Sydney's voice turned icy. "Penelope, that was my room." "Uncle Caleb said this is my home now," Timothy piped up, puffed with bravado. "Uncle Caleb also said he's going to take care of me and Mommy like a real dad!" Sydney glanced at Penelope, who showed no sign of correcting or scolding her son. She gave a cold laugh, crouched a little, and looked Timothy in the eye. "Do you know what Santa Claus does to children like you on Christmas?" The boy lifted his chin proudly. "He gives me lots of candy!" "Wrong." She shook her head, smiling sweetly. "He cuts off the hands of children who break things, bakes them in the oven, and feeds them to monsters." "WAAAHHH!" Timothy, still just a child, burst into tears and clung to Penelope like his life depended on it. Penelope glared at her. "He's just a kid. Did you really have to scare him like that?" "You can't even teach your own child how to behave. What else are you good for besides extreme sports?" Sydney didn't wait for a reply. She turned and walked away. … That night, a black Maybach rolled into the driveway. Sydney stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching as Caleb got out. Timothy ran to him immediately, dragging Penelope behind him. The three of them looked like a perfect little family. Eventually, someone knocked at the door. Caleb stepped inside. His crisp white shirt and purposeful stride clashed with the tension in his voice. "You scared Timmy?" "I did," Sydney said, gesturing toward her nightstand. "He destroyed my family photo." Caleb froze. For the first time, he realized he didn't know the whole story. He reached out to ruffle her hair, but she stepped back. Thinking she was still angry, he softened his tone. "That's my fault. Let me apologize on his behalf. Do you want anything? I'll make it up to you." Sydney smiled faintly. "Anything at all?" Caleb nodded. "Of course." "I only want two things." She handed him the documents she had prepared. Caleb glanced at the property transfer contract and signed without hesitation. The second document he flipped straight to the last page and signed just as quickly. When it came to money, he was always generous. Afterward, he let out a slow breath and gently pulled her into his arms. "Syd, how did your brother raise you to be so obedient and sensible?" Sydney felt a wave of nausea. Just as she was about to shove him away, there was a knock on the half-open door. Penelope looked mildly annoyed. "Cal, Timmy won't sleep unless you're with him." "I'm coming." Caleb turned to Sydney. "You're not mad, are you?" "Not at all," she said flatly. “Cal,” she continued, as if an afterthought. "Madam Sterling asked if you're free for the Sterling family banquet tomorrow night." Eloise Doakes, also known as Madam Sterling, had been an old friend of Sydney's parents. After their accident, she had taken Sydney in. To outsiders, Sydney was already half a Sterling. Hearing her, Caleb, perhaps still feeling guilty, agreed immediately. "Sure. I'll come pick you up tomorrow night. We'll go together." After he left, Sydney pulled out the second document. It was the divorce agreement. Yes, she was obedient. So obedient, she'd prepared the divorce papers herself and handed them right to his face. ... The next morning, Sydney woke naturally, her internal clock working as usual. She pulled open the curtains and found the world outside buried in white. The forecast hadn't said a word about snow. Yet this wasn't some light dusting—it was a full-on storm. Even through the glass, she could feel the cold. Sydney spent the morning seeing patients at the clinic. In the afternoon, she covered a session with overseas doctors who had come to learn from her senior, who was unexpectedly absent. By 5:00 p.m., she was back home, changing and applying light makeup. She needed little. Her bright eyes and perfect teeth made her stand out even with minimal effort. As she came downstairs, she sensed something was off. Since arriving, the house had been eerily quiet. That mother-son duo was unusually well-behaved. Just as she finished pulling on her tall boots, Penelope asked her with a venomous smile, "Sydney, who do you think he'll choose? Me or you?" "Penelope, what are you talking about? I don't quite follow." Sydney paused, then smiled. "Oh? So you're not trying to spin some scandalous 'widowed sister-in-law seduces little brother-in-law' drama in the Hampton family?" Penelope's fury boiled over. "Sydney!" Sydney calmly draped her cashmere cape over her shoulders and smiled faintly. "No time to argue. Cal's already waiting for me." Penelope followed her gaze to the black car parked in the driveway through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sight nearly made her spit blood. When she agreed to let Caleb marry this "sweet and pliable" girl, she had assumed that Sydney would be easy to control. Who would have guessed she was a rabbit with fangs? Sydney slid into the car and turned to Caleb. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting." "No, I just got here." He reached over to squeeze her hand, then noticed the pale, flawless skin visible beneath her skirt. Her legs were exposed to the cold, and he frowned. "Why are you dressed so lightly?" She smiled. "The car and the house are both heated." She always urged patients to dress warmly, but when it came to herself, she did not care. Caleb glanced at her. She sat quietly, staring out at the stream of traffic. He was about to speak when his phone rang. "Mr. Hampton, Ms. Monroe is at a blind date." The other party's voice was calm, not loud, but clear enough for Sydney to hear. The air in the car tightened instantly. Caleb was fuming but kept it controlled. He rarely lost his temper. After hanging up, he turned to Sydney with a composed expression but an unmistakably firm voice. "Syd, something urgent came up. I can't go to the family banquet with you." … The Sterling family's monthly banquet was unlike other social events. Only five people attended, including Caleb. The atmosphere was quiet. Unnervingly so, as if it were more funeral than celebration. When Sydney arrived, the butler, Jason Reyes, led her straight to the dining hall. "Ms. Wilson, Madam Sterling has been waiting all day. She's been asking about you since this morning," Jason said. "Okay." Sydney nodded gently but nervously clenched her fingers at her sides. Inside the dining hall, Eloise sat at the head of the table. To her left, her eldest and second daughters sat in order. Sydney stepped in and greeted them politely, "Grandma. Aunt Fiona. Aunt Miranda." When Eloise noticed Sydney was alone, her brows furrowed deeply. "Where is Caleb?" "Something urgent came up, and he had to attend to it," Sydney said. "Out! Go kneel!" Suddenly, a harsh yell echoed, and a teacup flew at her. For three years, every time Caleb failed to show up for her, she ended up punished like this. She no longer felt surprised. Since she was little, she suspected Eloise was the reincarnation of a cruel villain from some historical drama. Dorothy Vettera, the matriarch of the Hampton family, had merely ordered Penelope to kneel in the courtyard. Eloise, the Sterling family's matriarch, had made the maids take Sydney to kneel on a path filled with jagged stones. At first, the snow made it bearable. Yes, it was cold, but at least it did not hurt. Once the snow melted, only sharp rocks remained. By the time her whole body froze, the maids appeared with canes to whip her palms. That part truly hurt. The Sterling estate sat high in the scenic, serene mountains. Sydney had struggled to bribe a ride-share driver to come. Because it was snowing late at night, the driver refused to go beyond the hill's base. Each step downhill brought pure agony. Despite the winter chill, her back drenched in sweat from pain. Far ahead, a long black Bentley crawled along the icy road. The driver squinted. "Sir, that looks like Ms. Wilson." In the backseat, a man lounged with legs crossed. His face lay mostly in shadow, sharp and cold, radiating power. He did not even look up as he hummed. His expression was unreadable. After a long pause, the man finally looked out through the windshield, narrowing his eyes at the frail figure staggering in the snow. "Find out what Caleb was doing tonight." "We already checked. Most likely enjoying a romantic night with Penelope." Elliot added quickly, "Ms. Wilson has probably been kneeling in the snow for hours. She's reaching her limit." Just as he finished, the figure ahead collapsed. The car door slammed open. The man's face stayed stone-cold as he swept the unconscious woman into his arms, wrapping her in his cashmere coat. Elliot scrambled to open the rear door. "Sir, hospital or…" "Back to the estate."

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