Chapter 4
“What did you say?”
Roger’s hand fell from his face as he stared at me, disbelief etched across his features as if I’d just spun some preposterous tale.
“I said we’re getting a divorce.” My voice was low, but unshakable.
Shock in his eyes twisted instantly into rage.
“Joan! Haven’t you had enough of this drama? The village is in crisis, and you choose now to divorce me? Have you no conscience!”
“Conscience?”
It sounded like the biggest joke I’d ever heard. “Roger, how dare you talk to me about conscience?
“You took the entire village security force to the county town to watch a variety show with another woman while bandits surrounded us. Is that your conscience?
“After the slaughter, with people dead and wounded, your first concern wasn’t for the villagers, or even your own wife—it was whether *she* was frightened. Is that your conscience?
“I was chased by bandits trying to save your precious sister, then beaten by your own men until I lost our child. Lying here, you walk in and don’t ask if I’m alive or dead—you accuse me of not looking for you. Is *that* your conscience too?”
Each question struck like a blow, my voice climbing, heat churning inside me.
Roger fell silent. He paled, then flushed crimson with fury and shame.
“I… that’s not what I meant,” he mumbled. “Wanqing… she’s timid, from the city, I only—”
“Enough!” I cut him off sharply. “I never want to hear that woman’s name again! Save your sickening excuses, Roger. Just answer me: will you agree to the divorce or not?”
His expression darkened completely. He stared at me, hard, as if searching my face for something hidden.
“Joan, is this because of that schoolteacher? Is that why you’re so set on this?”
That schoolteacher. Again. Even now, he still suspected me.
My heart turned utterly cold. Utterly dead.
I closed my eyes and spoke wearily. “Think what you want. I’ll prepare the divorce papers as soon as I can. You just need to sign.”
“Over my dead body!”
Roger roared, seizing my wrist violently. “Let me make this clear, Joan. As long as I, Roger, draw breath, you will never leave this family! Your soul belongs to the Joan family, now and forever!”
He flung my hand away and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
Dorothy stood there, frightened and uncertain, looking at me timidly.
“Sister-in-law…”
“Help me up,” I told her, my face blank.
“Where are you going?”
“To the county town. To file a complaint.”
So Roger refused to divorce me?
Fine. Then I’d ruin his reputation. I’d make him an object of scorn, strip him of every right and dignity to hold me captive!
I’d report him for dereliction of duty—for treating human lives as worthless.
I’d make everyone see what a fraud their *esteemed* young security head really was.
But before I could even begin, a shocking reversal arrived.
Two days later, officers from the county Public Security Bureau came to the clinic to take my statement.
Their leader was a stern-faced middle-aged man, Deputy Director Deputy Director Mark.
They had captured the bandit leader, Joshua, and from the rescued women, obtained staggering news.
Nicole—that delicate, kind-hearted, vulnerable “white moonlight” in Roger’s eyes—hadn’t been abducted by the bandits at all.
She had gone with them willingly.
Because she was Joshua’s kept mistress.
The bandit attack on Qingshi Village was entirely her scheme.
Using her position as head of the women’s brigade, she had mapped the village’s defenses and tunnels. Then, exploiting Roger’s infatuation, she lured him and the entire security force to the county town.
All to create the perfect window for Joshua’s operation.
Deputy Director Deputy Director Mark said the rescued women all testified to seeing Nicole and Joshua acting intimately in the bandit lair, carrying herself like the lady of the house.
They even said she had urged Joshua to kill the disobedient women.
One sister-in-law had her face slashed with a hairpin by Nicole herself for resisting.
If the PSB hadn’t arrived in time, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
Hearing this, my mind went blank.
I’d imagined countless possibilities, but never this one.
In my past life, Nicole had died, taking the truth to her grave.
Everyone believed she was an innocent victim, a chaste martyr who died for Roger.
Roger had sanctified her memory as his perfect, lost love—his one great tragedy—hating me for it his whole life, finally killing me with his own hands to “avenge” her.
The irony!
The woman he cradled in his heart, the one he’d sacrifice the whole village to protect, was actually a viper in our nest.
And I, the wife he despised, resented, and murdered—I was the one who had always tried to protect him, to protect this village.
Overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity and grief-fueled rage, I burst into loud, bitter laughter.
The laughter turned to sobs, tears streaming down my face once more.
Roger, can you hear this?
This is the woman you loved your whole life!
For her, you killed me. You killed our child. You killed so many innocent people in this village.
Your love was worthless. A joke.
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