Gradually drifting further and further away, books disappearing.

In five years of marriage, Christian had asked Samantha for a divorce three times.

The first request came after a car accident left his leg injured. He told her he didn’t want to be a burden.

She refused to give up on him. Miles she walked to a temple, praying for his safety, and returned with a red protection cord—only to find that same cord already wrapped around the wrist of his childhood sweetheart, Abigail.

The second time, photos of him and Abigail having sex in a car splashed across the front page of the entertainment section. He wanted Samantha to publicly announce they were already divorced, to salvage Abigail’s reputation.

Samantha still wouldn’t agree to the divorce. But facing the cameras, she graciously declared her belief in her husband’s character and called Abigail a mutual friend.

From then on, the label stuck: the desperate, pathetic doormat. It spread through their entire social circle.

The third time was last night. A call from one of Christian’s buddies—he’d killed a man.

It was the dead of winter, a blizzard raging outside. Samantha didn’t even change. She ran out into the swirling snow and reached the clubhouse still in her pajamas and slippers.

The private room was ringed with people. In the center, a man lay on the floor, his face a mottled mess of bruises.

“What happened? Why did you fight?”

“Christian’s fault—he’s so impulsive. The guy just called Abigail a homewrecker, and Christian went for the kill. Can’t stand anyone saying a word against her…”

“What’s done is done. A life for a life. Samantha, you love Christian so much—why don’t you turn yourself in for him?”

Samantha froze. Slowly, she lifted her head, her gaze sweeping the room.

“Where is Christian?”

“He took Abigail to another room. Said a dead body was bad luck—would sully her eyes.”

Silence.

“Samantha, Christian has such a bright future. If you don’t help him, who will?”

“Exactly! You’re always going on about how much you love him. Can you bear to watch his life get ruined?”

Samantha’s hands, hanging at her sides, slowly clenched into fists.

“Fine. I’ll go to prison for him.”

Dead silence held the room for a few seconds.

Then, thunderous laughter erupted.

“Holy shit! You really are the legendary doormat! Willing to do anything for Christian…”

“Christian called it! He didn’t get you wrong at all!”

Under Samantha’s stunned gaze, a hidden door in the private room swung slowly open.

There sat Christian in the small room behind it, Abigail nestled in his arms. He was feeding her grapes.

Beside them, the “dead man” on the floor nimbly got up and retreated to the wall.

Finally, Samantha understood. She’d been played.

Christian snapped his fingers.

One of his lackeys tossed a document onto the floor in front of her.

“Samantha, if you’re willing to take a murder charge for him, signing a divorce agreement shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”

She looked down at the papers, then raised her