Chapter 1
On our third wedding anniversary, the nude oil painting my husband had personally painted for me was suddenly exposed online.
In an instant, rumors about me spread like wildfire. Countless so-called "insiders" appeared online, one after another, all claiming they knew the truth.
They swore I had once drunk with them, sung with them, and done all kinds of things I had never even heard of.
Every single one of my social media accounts was flooded with disgusting, ridiculous, and vulgar comments.
And my husband, Jeffrey Miller, the creator of that painting, wasn't by my side. He was staying with another woman.
Because she had accidentally posted the painting online. She felt so guilty afterward that she became emotionally unstable and suffered an asthma attack, forcing her to be admitted to the hospital.
Jeffrey was worried about her, so he had to stay by her side.
I stared at the call screen as it automatically ended after no one answered.
That was the 99th time I had called Jeffrey since everything happened.
I took a deep breath and dialed another number.
The person on the other end answered almost immediately.
I spoke calmly, "William, withdraw the five hundred million investment we gave Jeffrey's company. And one more thing, I want a divorce."
*****
I had already scheduled an appointment with a divorce lawyer. But before I even made it out of the parking lot, I ran into a stalker.
The man's disgusting, shameless gaze wandered over my body. Fear slowly spread through my chest.
I turned around and ran. But he grabbed my bag strap and yanked me back.
The force was so strong that I fell hard onto the ground.
The stalker dragged me by the arm. "Why are you running? Didn't you paint yourself like that because you wanted men to sleep with you? Just behave. I promise I'll make you feel good."
I struggled desperately. But all I got in return was a loud slap across my face.
My ears rang with a sharp buzzing sound. My arm scraped against the rough concrete floor of the parking lot, leaving one wound after another. My clothes were violently ripped apart.
At that moment, pain and humiliation swallowed me whole. I felt pure despair.
Then, suddenly, the force holding me down disappeared.
A second later, I heard the sound of fists hitting flesh.
I followed the noise and looked over. It was Jeffrey.
After what felt like forever, the security guards finally arrived and took the stalker away.
Jeffrey looked terrified as he pulled me tightly into his arms.
"Do you have any idea how scared I was? Thank God you're okay."
In the past, I had been addicted to the warmth of his embrace. But now, in those familiar arms, all I could smell was a faint citrus perfume.
I was allergic to citrus. I would never choose a perfume with that scent.
Slowly, I pushed Jeffrey away.
"What happened? Are you still shaken up? I'll take you to the hospital for a checkup." His voice was as gentle as always.
I stepped back and shook my head. "No need. I have an appointment."
"You have an appointment, but it can wait." Jeffrey's tone became slightly more forceful. "Let's go to the hospital first."
I didn't move.
"What are you doing now? Are you throwing a tantrum?" Jeffrey frowned.
"I'm not."
He took a deep breath, his voice softening as if he was trying to coax me.
"Just come with me. Let's get you checked out."
"I..." Before I could finish speaking, Jeffrey's next words left me stunned.
"Lila accidentally uploaded that painting onto social media... She never expected things to become this serious. She's been blaming herself and refuses to accept treatment. Come with me to the hospital and tell her this isn't her fault."
Jeffrey's eyes shifted away from mine. "Besides, your injuries shouldn't be ignored either."
I laughed. So getting my wounds treated was just an afterthought. Jeffrey's real purpose was comforting his "innocent" childhood sweetheart.
I clenched my fists, forcing down the bitterness surging in my chest.
"If it's not her fault, then whose fault is it?"
