Chapter 1

Zoey Silvain had attempted suicide 108 times in the three years she'd been married. When she came to, she found herself lying in a hospital bed, her mind a complete blank.

A middle-aged couple sat at her bedside. They frowned as soon as she opened her eyes. "How long are you planning to keep up this nonsense? Yves has always had eyes for Wendy. He only married you because he was drunk and stumbled into the wrong room."

Her tone was sharp, and full of annoyance. "He doesn't love you, so it's only normal that he doesn't want to come home. However, you've been using suicide to guilt-trip him for years. Has he ever once shown up at the hospital to check on you?"

"If you weren't our biological daughter, we wouldn't even bother with you." The man sighed. "Honestly, you don't hold a candle to Wendy."

Zoey blankly stared at them. She didn't remember anything—not even who she was. All she could do was piece together her shattered life from the harsh words of the couple who claimed to be her parents.

Apparently, she was the heiress of the Silvain family. When she was little, she had been kidnapped and lost for years. By the time she was found and brought home, she realized her parents had adopted a young woman named Wendy Silvain.

Her parents, who were supposed to love and spoil her, now only had eyes for their adopted daughter. Wendy had completely taken her place.

Later on, Zoey fell in love with Yves Pearce, the CEO of Pearce Group. Yet, he only had room for Wendy in his heart.

Then, everything changed at a banquet one night.

Yves had gotten drunk, stumbled into the wrong room, and taken her virginity.

After that wild night, he had no choice but to marry her. However, he gave her nothing but coldness and contempt.

Her parents didn't love her, and neither did her husband.

Zoey felt heartbroken and hopeless. With no one to turn to, her only way of screaming for attention was through desperate, repeated suicide attempts.

…

"Alright, we have to head home and cook for Wendy," Bryant Silvain, her father, said as he rose from his seat with Daphne Bowman, her mother. "You stay here and think about what you've done."

The moment the hospital room door clicked shut, a sharp pain pierced Zoey's chest. Even without her memories, the feeling of being abandoned by the entire world felt all too real.

She couldn't understand how any parent could love a foster daughter but not their own flesh and blood. Also, that man named Yves… He was the one who'd shuffled into the wrong room and mistook her for someone else.

If he'd already married her, why couldn't he treat her right? Why did he bury her in so much indifference and force her into a dead end?

Zoey didn't dare dwell on it for too long. Even just thinking about those fragments of her past made her chest ache, as though she was being sliced open with a blunt knife.

What had her old self been like—living day after day in a loveless home, with parents who didn't care about her and a husband who ignored her? How much despair had she been drowning in?

Zoey slowly pulled herself upright and handled the discharge paperwork by herself. However, once she stepped out of the hospital, she realized she had no idea where to go.

She couldn't remember where her parents lived or where Yves lived. Worst of all, neither place welcomed her.

Just then, a commotion erupted near the entrance. Zoey looked up and spotted a tall, slender man striding in her direction while carrying a fragile figure in his arms.

He wore a sleek black suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, and he was incredibly good-looking too. Every step he took felt powerful.

He carefully held the woman in his embrace. Her pale face rested against his chest, and he looked down at her with overwhelming tenderness. His arms tightened possessively around her, and even his footsteps softened, as if he was afraid of jostling her.

"Get out of my way," he calmly said.

The crowd instinctively parted.

"Goodness gracious, is that Yves?" Someone gasped behind Zoey.

"Who else could it be? No one in Norwind has that kind of presence! He's so handsome, he's making my legs go weak…"

Zoey stiffened.

So, that was her husband, Yves. The woman in his arms was most probably her adopted sister, Wendy.

When Yves walked past Zoey, he paused for a fraction of a second. His dark, ink-black eyes glanced at her, cold enough to cut through skin. Then, without a word, he looked away and hurried toward the emergency room with Wendy in his arms.

Zoey's thin frame trembled slightly. She didn't follow him, and as she wondered where she should go next, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned around and noticed that Yves had returned.

He grabbed her wrist without warning, gripping it hard enough to make her wince. "You're RH negative, right?"

Before Zoey could answer, he dragged her toward the blood collection room. "Wendy was in a car accident, and she lost a lot of blood. The hospital's blood bank is running low, so I need you to donate some to her."

"I—" Zoey parted her lips, but Yves cupped the back of her head and kissed her. It was a cold, brief kiss. "Now, will you donate?" he asked in a low tone, and with a cold look in his eyes.

Before Zoey could respond, she was already being pushed into the blood collection room.

The nurses whispered loudly enough for her to hear outside the door.

"Is that the Mrs. Pearce who tried to kill herself 108 times? I heard the first time was to get Mr. Pearce to kiss her, the second time to go on a date, and the third time to sleep with him… But he rejected her every time. How pathetic.

"Mr. Pearce finally kissed her, but it was to get her to donate blood for Ms. Silvain…"

"She must be torn—over the moon about getting a kiss, but heartbroken it was for someone else…"

Zoey lay on the chair, eyes fixed on the window. Through the glass, she noticed Yves sitting beside Wendy's hospital bed, his long fingers gently holding her pale hand. Then, he bent down and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

Oddly enough, she felt neither happy nor sad.

The needle pricked her vein, but the pain felt muted, as if there was a veil between her and her emotions. Even the anguish she should have felt had been dulled by her memory loss.

Perhaps forgetting everything was the only mercy the universe had ever shown her.

After donating 13.5 fluid ounces of blood, Zoey staggered out, pale and dizzy. She tried to regain control over her body and forced herself to walk up to Yves. "Yves, could you tell me… our home address? In return, I'd like to give you a gift."

Yves' brows knitted. "What are you playing at now? Did you attempt to kill yourself one too many times that you'd even forgotten where you live?"

"No… I lost my memory—"

"The driver's waiting outside," he cut her off. "Let him take you home."

"Thank you," Zoey softly said. "I'll get that gift ready for you."

"I don't need it," Yves icily said. "I'm not interested in anything you give me, so you can stop wasting your time trying to please me."

Zoey lowered her gaze, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She was sure he'd like this one.

Chapter 2

After getting in the car, Zoey found the lawyer's number in her contacts list and sent them a message. "Hello, I want to file for divorce and sever ties with my parents. Please draft a divorce agreement and a parental rights termination document for me."

The lawyer replied almost instantly.

"Understood, Ms. Silvain. I'll draft them as soon as possible."

Zoey put her phone away and gazed out the window at the passing scenery. Her memory loss felt like a gift from God—an opportunity to escape and start a new life.

"Don't take me home just yet," she abruptly told the driver. "Take me to the immigration office."

The driver was taken aback. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror with wide eyes, but he still respectfully responded, "Alright, Mrs. Pearce."

The immigration process went smoothly. The staff told her all the papers would be ready within two weeks.

When she got back in the car, she hesitated for a moment before saying, "Don't tell Mr. Pearce about where I went today."

The driver tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Mrs. Pearce… Mr. Pearce usually doesn't allow us to mention you in front of him."

Zoey tugged at the corner of her lips.

So, that was how much he hated her. He didn't even want to hear her name.

…

After returning to the villa, Zoey stood in the entryway and took in her surroundings. The place felt both familiar and foreign.

It was familiar because every little detail reflected her taste, yet foreign because the air was so still and cold that it was hard to believe anyone lived here.

Zoey's mind drifted as she touched the embroidered cushions on the couch. She could imagine how delighted and hopeful she must've been when she'd first decorated this place, dreaming of a blissful life with Yves.

A wedding portrait hung on the wall. Her eyes were full of love for Yves, whereas his handsome face was cold and indifferent.

Zoey shook her head before heading upstairs.

After entering her bedroom, she instinctively pulled open a drawer. Right after that, a leather-bound journal slipped out and landed on the floor with a soft thud.

Zoey flipped it open and noticed that the first page was filled with messy handwriting, almost as if it was written while she was drunk.

"It's our wedding day! Yves didn't say a single word to me before locking himself in the study, but it's okay. I'll wait."

As she flipped through the pages, each one cut deeper than the last.

"It's my 37th suicide attempt, but he still didn't come to see me. His assistant said Wendy had a fever, and he stayed by her bedside all night. I spent mine in the emergency room, listening to the drips of my IV until dawn."

"This is my 89th suicide attempt. This time, I took sleeping pills. When I came to, I overheard him on the phone in the hallway, saying, 'Let her die.' That was when I realized… nothing hurts more than hearing the person you love wishing you were dead."

"This is the 108th and last attempt. I've decided to give up. If this doesn't work, I'll disappear for good. No one in this world cares if I'm gone anyway."

Zoey snapped her diary shut. Her chest felt as though it was being ripped open. The scars on her wrist started to burn, each one silently screaming out the pain she once endured.

Slowly, she sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees.

So, this was what her past three years looked like. She lived like a stray, desperate for scraps of affection.

"It's okay," she whispered to herself, wiping her tears and sliding her diary back in the drawer. "It's okay if no one loves you, Zoey…"

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a small patch of light at her feet.

"As long as you love yourself… you haven't really lost."

Chapter 3

Zoey stayed in the empty villa for a few days.

All the while, Yves never came back.

Without any memories or love, Zoey didn't find the solitude unbearable. In fact, she thought it was nice to wait until her immigration paperwork was finalized.

At least, until her mother's call shattered the silence.

"Wendy's birthday celebration will be held at 7:00 pm tomorrow at the Imperial Hotel," came Daphne's cold, indifferent voice. "Don't be late."

"I don't—"

"That's all." Daphne hung up without giving Zoey a chance to refuse.

…

Zoey slipped into the simplest black dress she had on the day of the banquet. As soon as she walked in, she spotted Wendy. She was being admired by everyone and Yves, whom she hadn't seen in days.

"Wendy sure is lucky," a middle-aged woman whispered. "Her adoptive parents treat her like she's the apple of their eye. Mr. Pearce cares deeply about her too."

"No kidding. I heard he personally organized this banquet! Look at that champagne. It's flown in from Bellevire, and a single bottle costs six figures."

"Those flowers were airlifted from Lormont this morning. He even had the whole ballroom decorated like the Monet Garden, just because that's what Wendy likes. It must've cost a fortune."

The guests' whispers blurred into a steady hum.

Zoey took a sip of her drink and glanced at Yves, who was nearby. He was dressed in a black bespoke suit. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and exposed just a hint of his collarbone. There was a certain effortless elegance about him.

However, at that moment, he, who was always so cold, was crouching down to fix Wendy's dress with a soft smile on his face.

"Now, let's welcome Mr. and Mrs. Silvain to the stage to give their blessings to their beloved daughter!"

As soon as the host's words fell, Bryant and Daphne walked onto the stage, arms linked with Wendy.

Bryant cleared his throat and addressed the guests, saying, "Tonight, I'd like to make a very important announcement. Wendy will inherit 60% of our company's shares!"

The room erupted in gasps while Zoey's grip on her glass tightened.

Yves walked up to join them and pulled a velvet box from his pocket. He then opened it to reveal an antique emerald ring in it.

"Isn't that the Pearce family's heirloom?" someone in the crowd exclaimed. "I heard it was left by Mrs. Pearce Senior for her eldest granddaughter-in-law!"

"Holy moly, he's giving his family heirloom to his sister-in-law? That's basically a slap to his wife's face…"

Yves gently slid the ring onto Wendy's finger.

It fit perfectly.

"Dad, Mom, Yves… is this really okay?" Wendy abruptly glanced at a corner of the banquet hall, her voice laced with uncertainty. "After all, Zoey's your biological daughter and the lady of the Pearce family. Shouldn't all of this… belong to her?"

After hearing that, Bryant and Daphne hastily grabbed her hands. "What nonsense are you talking about? Zoey married well and has the Pearces behind her. Of course, we have to look out for you.

"It's only right for us to give you these assets."

Yves chimed in apathetically, "If it hadn't been for that accident, this ring would've been yours."

Zoey stood frozen in the middle of the crowd, feeling like she'd just been stripped bare in front of everyone. Her parents' words stung like slaps while Yves' words felt like knives, carving cuts into her face.

The guests stared at her with varying gazes—pity, amusement, and schadenfreude. Every look seemed to scream the same thing, "You poor thing." Zoey could even feel Wendy's smugness radiating from the stage, as if she was a winner showing off her trophy.

Before, she probably would've been so heartbroken that she would've wanted to die. But now, she just felt calm.

Zoey gently set her glass down. Then, when she turned on her heel, she heard someone whisper, "Look, her eyes are tearing up…"

"She's probably going to cry in the restroom…"

"Poor thing. Her parents and her husband both prefer her adopted sister."

Zoey didn't falter and headed straight to the restroom.

As she looked in the mirror, she saw her flawless makeup. Not to mention, there was not a single tear in her eyes. After all, she had forgotten everything.

She had forgotten the years she'd begged for her parents' affection, the nights she'd craved Yves' love, and the countless times she'd thrown away her pride just to get them to look her way.

The people she once revered now felt no different from strangers. All she had to do now was wait until her immigration papers were ready. Then, she'd learn how to love herself.

Chapter 4

Zoey touched up her lipstick and turned to leave the restroom, only to freeze the moment she rounded the corner.

Not far ahead, Yves had Wendy pinned against the wall and was kissing her deeply. His longer fingers were tangled in her hair while his other hand gripped her waist tightly, as if he wanted to make her part of himself.

Wendy tilted her head back, her pale neck arched in a graceful curve.

After a long while, Yves released her and brushed his thumb over her swollen lips. His voice was low as he asked, "Are you satisfied now?"

Wendy leaned into him, her voice soft and sweet as she replied, "Yves, do you think I'm being unreasonable? I already have your family heirloom, and yet… I still asked for a kiss. If Zoey saw this, she'd probably be heartbroken.

"I just… I can't help it. If that accident hadn't happened, we would've been together by now!" Yves' gaze was calm as he tightened his grip on her waist. "Her sadness has nothing to do with me. I never liked her, and I never will. The only one I've ever wanted is you, Wen."

With that, he lowered his head and sealed Wendy's lips again.

All the while, Zoey was rooted to the spot. Her heart felt as though it was being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand. It hurt so badly she couldn't even breathe.

She clutched her chest.

To her, this pain was perhaps just the final trace of what was once love. Once this last bit faded… there'd be nothing left.

Yves and Wendy ate each other's faces for three full minutes before leaving. After the couple disappeared completely, Zoey stepped out of the shadows.

She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and prepared to return to the banquet hall to collect her purse and leave.

However, as soon as she entered the hall, Wendy rushed over and grabbed her wrist. "Zoey, if you really like the ring Yves gave me, I could've just given it to you. Why did you have to steal it?"

Zoey was caught off guard. "What did I steal? What are you on about?"

"Drop the act!" Tears welled up in Wendy's eyes. "I had only made a trip to the restroom, and the ring was gone! The waiter said you were the only one who went near my purse!"

Bryant and Daphne heard the commotion and hurried over. Without a word, Bryant slapped Zoey. "Can't you give it a rest for just one day?"

Zoey's cheek burned from the slap. She was still reeling from the shock when Daphne shrieked, "Someone, search her!"

Several waiters surrounded Zoey and yanked at her dress.

Zoey desperately struggled. "Let go of me! I didn't steal anything!"

Just then, a loud tear split the air. Her dress ripped at the shoulder and exposed her bare skin.

Gasps and laughter rippled through the crowd.

"I found it!" one of the waiters called out, holding up the emerald ring. "It was in her purse!"

Wendy took the ring with tears rolling down her cheeks. "What do you have to say for yourself now, Zoey?"

Zoey trembled.

She was about to speak up when the crowd abruptly parted, and footsteps steadily echoed across the room.

Zoey looked up and noticed Yves walking toward her, his polished shoes clicking on the marble floor. "Why did you steal it?" His voice was soft, but the whole banquet hall fell silent. "You've always known that I never saw you as my wife."

Zoey looked up and met his cold gaze. "Zoey, some things just don't belong to you," he said in a low tone. "And they never will." Each word felt like a poisoned blade.

For a second, Zoey stared at him and smiled.

Her smile made Yves frown. He had seen her cry, throw fits, and lose control, but he'd never seen her smile like this. He even sensed some scorn in it.

It felt as though she'd been freed from her shackles.

"I didn't steal it," Zoey responded softly but firmly. The light from the chandelier danced in her eyes, like drops of tears and twinkling stars.

"Also," Zoey took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't like you anymore!"

Chapter 5

The moment those words left Zoey's mouth, the whole room went silent. Everyone's eyes widened, as if they couldn't believe what they had just heard.

Zoey, the woman who'd used to act like she'd die for Yves, was now saying that she didn't like him anymore?

All eyes were on Zoey, shocked. However, Yves stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, his expression unreadable, and his gaze as indifferent as ever. "How many times are you going to play hard to get?" His voice was low and laced with sarcasm.

"I told you before. No matter what you do, it won't work." He leaned in slightly to crush her last bit of pride. "I don't like you. Get that in your fucking head!"

As soon as his words fell, the guests finally snapped out of their shock, and whispers swept through the room like a tide.

"I knew it. There's no way Ms. Zoey would just stop loving Mr. Pearce all of a sudden!"

"Exactly, she tried to kill herself 108 times just to get Mr. Pearce to notice her."

Someone clicked their tongue. "She's so sad and pathetic…"

Zoey clenched her fists. Her nails dug deep into her palms, but she couldn't feel a thing. She parted her lips to repeat herself. She wasn't playing games; she genuinely didn't love him anymore!

But before she could utter a word, Bryant seethed, "My apologies, everyone! We've failed as her parents. We never taught her any manners, which is why she's done something so disgraceful!"

He then beckoned for the bodyguards. "Guards, take her to the hotel's cold storage and leave her there overnight to sober up!"

Zoey's eyes widened, and she snapped her head up. "I said I didn't steal—"

But no one listened to her explanation. Two bodyguards stepped forward and roughly grabbed her wrists.

Zoey fought back with all she had until a sharp pain shot through the back of her neck.

Her vision went black as she staggered backward after being struck by the bodyguard's metal baton.

Before she passed out, her eyes met Yves'.

He stood there watching it all unfold, with not even a flicker of emotion crossing his face.

Later on, Zoey jolted awake from the biting cold. Her lashes were crusted with frost, and every breath came out in pale clouds. Her body was so numb, it felt like her blood had turned to ice.

The cold storage was -22 degrees Fahrenheit, and all she had on was a thin satin slip. Her bare skin was already turning blue and purple from the cold.

"I can't die…" she muttered, forcing her limbs to move. "I can't die…"

Her immigration documents were almost ready. She still had to get out of there. Soon, she could start a brand new life.

Summoning all her strength, Zoey slowly crawled toward the door. Her fingers were stiff and purple from the cold, but she still pounded on the heavy metal door.

"Help… please… someone… help me…" Her voice was hoarse and weak, but no one answered.

It wasn't until an overly sweet, almost cheerful voice came from the other side, "Don't bother."

Zoey froze. It was Wendy.

"Everyone's busy celebrating my birthday right now. Who'd have time to check on you?" Wendy giggled, unable to hide the smugness in her tone. "Oh, right. I just remembered something funny… It's your birthday too, isn't it? Too bad no one remembered!"

Zoey bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

"I'm the center of attention in a grand banquet hall while you're freezing half to death here…" Wendy sneered. "So what if you're the real heiress? So what if I'm just an orphan from a welfare home? In the end, you're still beneath me!"

Zoey closed her eyes as a metallic tang crept up her throat.

Just then, Wendy's phone rang. She deliberately put it on speaker so Zoey could hear the caller's voice clearly.

"Wendy, where are you?" It was Yves. His voice was low and gentle, filled with a tenderness Zoey had never heard before.

"My head feels a little fuzzy…" Wendy's voice immediately weakened. "I'm in the lounge."

"Hold on. I'll be right there!"

The call ended, and the cold storage fell silent again.

After listening to the tenderness in Yves' voice toward Wendy, Zoey gently closed her eyes.

For some reason, memories of the long nights she had poured her heartbreak into her diary flooded her mind. The yellowed pages were stained with tears, every letter a testament to her suffering.

She wrote about the time Yves rented out an entire revolving restaurant just so Wendy could watch the snow on her birthday.

She wrote about how Yves stayed by Wendy's bedside all night when she had a fever and even missed the company's stock market listing ceremony for her.

She also wrote about how his gaze was gentle and warm when he looked at Wendy, yet cold and sharp as frost when he looked at her.

Night after night, day after day, Zoey had lurked in the shadows as she watched their love grow. Fortunately, she no longer loved him.

This realization brought a faint curl to her lips as the darkness pulled her under once more.