Chapter 1

By the time Marceline Ballard arrived at the hillside villa, she was breathless, and the party inside had long since started.

The person at the front door was surprised to see her. He clearly hadn't expected her to show up. "Ms. Ballard, what are you doing here? Everyone's already eaten…"

This was her husband's birthday celebration, and yet, no one had thought to invite his legally wedded wife. Among all these people in their social circle, not a single person bothered to contact her.

Marceline gave the doorman a faint smile and was just about to push open the door when she heard voices from inside.

"Jenna, what did you get him? Curtis hasn't taken his eyes off your gift for a while now. He's been looking forward to opening it all evening."

"Have I now?"

"Don't pretend. The bag's practically got two holes burned into it from your staring. Since Jenna's finally back, why don't you just divorce Marceline already? It's better than keeping things awkward for everyone."

"Exactly. If you hadn't married her out of pity after she drugged you to save her reputation, she would've been publicly shamed to oblivion."

The man seated in the very center wore a sharp, dark suit, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His features were striking and sharp, with deep-set eyes, a high bridge, and thin lips.

He was like a colorful but poisonous butterfly, and his slightly upturned eyes gave him a distant and prideful appearance.

"There's no rush," he said.

"Curtis, it's been three years. What do you mean there's no rush? It was her fault Jenna's sister ended up in a vegetative state. If your grandmother hadn't protected her, we would've destroyed her long ago."

Curtis Wolfe fiddled with the lighter between his slender fingers, his gaze flickering to the figure at the doorway.

It was only then that the others realized Marceline had been standing there for some time now.

Someone whispered, "Did any of you invite her?"

No one responded, which meant that she had come uninvited.

Marceline lowered her gaze.

She had a light colored cashmere sweater on, and her hair was neatly tucked behind her ear. With her gentle demeanor and delicate features, she hardly seemed like the type to do anything shameless. But apparently, she had.

As she held a gift in her hands, she looked at Curtis in the center. She felt as though barbed wire was coiled around her chest, the piercing pain burrowing so deeply that she involuntarily clenched her hands into fists.

Marceline walked up to Curtis, but before she could hand him the well-thought-out gift, he knitted his brows slightly and sneered with indifference. "Who said you could come?"

Derisive laughter echoed around Marceline, chipping away at her dignity.

Jenna Farrell was seated nearby. She playfully glared at Curtis before pulling Marceline to sit down. "Come on, she's your wife. It's only right that she came to give you a gift.

"Sit, Marceline. Curtis is just grumpy as always."

Marceline kept silent, her lips tightly pursed.

She was his wife, and yet it was his ex-fiancée who was helping her smooth things over.

No one here welcomed her, but Marceline still came—all because Curtis had said that they'd spend his 28th birthday together back when he was 18.

Without hesitation, she took a seat beside Curtis and edged Jenna out of the way.

Jenna's expression faltered for a moment, looking displeased. She then asked, "So, what gift did you get for Curtis?"

A curious onlooker reached over and opened the gift directly. It was a scarf without a label—most likely a hand-knit one.

"Oh, wow." Jenna remarked, "We must really think alike—I also made him a scarf."

The two hand-knit scarves were then placed side by side. It was hard to tell which was better made.

Just then, someone accidentally bumped the table. Then, an opened bottle of wine tipped over, sending a stream of red liquid rushing toward both scarves.

Curtis reached out to grab one of them while the other got soaked in wine.

The one he grabbed was Jenna's.

Upon seeing the scarf she'd spent two months knitting now drenched in alcohol, Marceline went pale, and her heart felt numb and heavy.

Jenna let out a sigh, linking arms with her in a comforting gesture. "Don't be upset, Marceline. Just wash it when you get home, and it'll be good as new."

Ignoring her, Marceline turned to Curtis.

He was looking down, concealing whatever emotions he was feeling.

The atmosphere became a little awkward. Then, as if Marceline had ruined what was meant to be a cheerful gathering, one by one, people started standing up and claiming they had to leave.

Marceline sat still, staring at the scarf abandoned on the coffee table.

It resembled her own situation.

As the others gradually left, she saw Curtis getting up as well. She softly said, "Curtis, happy birthday."

But Curtis acted as if he hadn't heard her.

The people around him were all part of his elite circle. Curtis had only been found by the Wolfe family when he was 21, but by then, he was already a self-made business prodigy—and beside him had been the 19-year-old Marceline.

Within just seven years, the rising business star had become a central figure among the elite. But the love between them had long since vanished. Those tough, humble days they had weathered together now seemed like a past life.

Curtis soon asked someone to drive Jenna home.

Jenna lightly tapped his shoulder, saying, "You two should talk things out. Stop fighting all the time."

Someone nearby snorted. "Jenna, you really are too nice."

"It's not about being nice. Marceline was young and foolish back then. She probably didn't mean it."

"As if. She ruined someone's life, shamelessly stole your place, and still has the nerve to show up here."

The voice, thick with contempt, gradually faded.

Marceline sat there as if frozen in place. Every inch of her blood began to go cold, and even her lips lost their color.

She stood up, grabbed her soaked scarf, and looked at Curtis. "Curtis," she softly called out.

Curtis had already slung his suit jacket over his arm by then. Upon hearing her voice, he loosened his tie slightly without looking at her. Visibly irritated, he asked, "What do you want to say now?"

With a faint smile, Marceline uttered, "Let's get a divorce, Curtis."

A flicker of surprise crossed his gaze, but it soon gave way to a chilling, dark stare. "What's your angle this time? First, you drugged me to get me into bed, and now you're acting all high and mighty, demanding a divorce. Aren't you tired of all this, Marceline?"

"I'm sorry for wasting three years of your life, but I'm serious this time."

The scorn in Curtis' eyes slowly faded.

He yanked Marceline toward him and clamped her chin between his fingers. When she winced in pain, it eased the inexplicable tension in his chest.

"You're talking about wasting time now? What the hell were you doing three years ago? You want a divorce, you say? Fine, but don't expect me to give you a damn cent!"

"I'll leave with nothing." Marceline's eyes were clear, and her voice remained calm and unbothered.

After Curtis was brought back to the Wolfe family back then, Marceline—who had been with him—was formally acknowledged by his parents as their goddaughter.

However, everyone knew that they only did it because they didn't want their long-lost second son to marry a woman of humble origins. Giving her that title was merely their way of silencing public opinion.

Curtis stared at her indifferent face, his throat tightening soundlessly before he turned away. "Fine. Leave with nothing. Just don't regret it."

Chapter 2

It had started to rain outside at some point.

The villa Marceline was at sat on a remote hillside, so it was hard to get a ride here. She had also taken a cab here earlier, and at the moment, everyone else had already driven off. So, she simply stood alone under the eaves, watching the drizzle fall.

Just then, a black Rolls-Royce emerged from the rain and stopped before her. The window slid down, revealing the familiar face of Curtis' assistant, Ken Blevins.

"Mrs. Wolfe, please get in."

Marceline didn't move. She glanced through the crack in the window, as if she already knew someone was in the back seat.

While she said nothing, Curtis' voice rang out, "Drive. Maybe the rain will wash the nonsense out of her head."

Having been put in an awkward situation, Ken didn't glance at Marceline again and simply drove away.

Marceline blinked as she watched the car disappear.

She felt the pattering of rain drops on her face. It felt cold enough to pierce the bone.

When Curtis was 18, he had looked forward to spending his 28th birthday with her. But now, when he had actually turned 28, he couldn't despise her more.

In the past three years, he had barely come home, let alone touch her.

People in their social circle said that Marceline was the most pitiful out of all the women who'd married into wealth. After all, other than a beautiful cage, she had nothing.

To everyone else, she was the villainess who had stolen Jenna's fiancé and caused Lyana Farrell, Jenna's sister, to be in a vegetative state. She was a woman deserving of scorn.

Yet, no one seemed to remember how she'd stood by Curtis from age 12 to 19—through his hardest years when he was at his lowest, to when he first made a name for himself.

They all said that she was greedy to use seven years of companionship to emotionally blackmail Curtis when the Wolfe family had already made her their goddaughter.

In the blink of an eye, another seven years had passed since then. So, in total, she had been by his side for 14 years now.

Marceline lowered her gaze and stared at the e-hailing app on her phone.

Still, no one was willing to take the order.

…

When Marceline finally made it back to Cloudcrest Bay, it was already 2:00 am. Her soaked dress clung to her ankles, and the late autumn air was so cold that her lips trembled.

The lights inside were still on. As she stepped into the entryway, she spotted Curtis sitting on the couch, going through paperwork.

Curtis had strikingly refined features. No matter how long one stared at his face, it could still take one's breath away.

He was like an unscalable mountain of ice, cold and aloof as he sat on the couch.

Of course, Marceline didn't think he was waiting for her. After all, they'd fallen out completely three years ago, and she had changed so much that even she couldn't recognize the bitter woman in the mirror.

She quietly stepped inside, tossed her scarf into the trash at the door, and went upstairs.

The master bedroom was still filled with her belongings, making the room feel a little cozier and tidier than if they weren't there.

Since Curtis had barely returned home in the past three years, everyone had mocked her for living like a widow despite still being married.

Marceline grabbed a small suitcase and began packing only her everyday clothes. As for the wall of luxury handbags and jewelry, she'd never touched them.

Curtis had said that she didn't deserve them. In his eyes, she was a gold digger. Putting those luxuries in front of her but forbidding her to touch them was a way to make her suffer.

As she dragged the suitcase downstairs, Marceline placed the signed divorce agreement on the coffee table.

"Curtis, I've already signed it."

Over the past three years, they'd end up arguing every time they met. Though in truth, Marceline was the only one lashing out, accusing Curtis of being cold and desperately trying to get his attention like a madwoman.

As for Curtis, he would just stand there in silence, watching her lose control as if he were just some cold bystander.

At that moment, Curtis looked up from his laptop and stared at her suitcase. He felt as if his throat was being burned, like someone had poured acid into it, searing all the way down to his gut.

He let out a snort. His icy, scathing voice was like a sharp knife that stabbed at her eardrums. "You're only taking that with you? Are you planning on coming back every so often to pick up more?

"Marceline Ballard, have you forgotten how you got your position in the first place? I was engaged to Jenna, and you drugged me at our engagement party so we'd be caught in bed together. You forced me to marry you."

"It's all my fault." Marceline gripped the handle of her suitcase. Her face was somewhat pale, and her dress was still damp. She looked as if she might collapse at any moment.

As she gripped the handle tighter, she finally spoke after a long silence.

"Curtis, I just want to know… Why did you suddenly stop loving me?"

She had asked herself that same question a thousand times in the last three years.

Back when they used to cling to each other in the cramped rental apartment, he had said that he would love her forever. But once the Wolfes came for him, she was told to walk away with some money, as the Wolfes would never accept a daughter-in-law from her background.

But Marceline had refused to do so, clinging to Curtis' promise and waiting for the day he would proudly marry her.

However, what she got instead was news of his engagement to Jenna and the cold admission that he didn't love her anymore.

How could he just stop loving her like that?

"Because you don't deserve it."

Curtis' words hit Marceline like a sledgehammer, making her head spin.

The pain she was experiencing was impossible to describe. It felt like her heart had been stabbed full of holes and was bleeding out with every beat.

When he'd loved her, he'd said she was the greatest woman in the world. When he stopped, all she got was a nonchalant remark about how she didn't deserve his love.

She, with her lowly status, had tried to defend their love in front of those lofty heirs of wealth, but in their eyes, she was nothing more than a joke who didn't know her place.

Even so, Marceline had always believed herself to be a knight, convinced that Curtis had just been forced into the engagement due to circumstances.

She had lied to herself for three years, but it was time to wake up now.

Marceline pulled the suitcase into the entryway and said, "Then sign the papers. I'll be waiting at the courthouse at noon tomorrow." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "Curtis, I'm sorry for being a bother to you over the years."

Curtis' hand trembled as he clutched the documents. He clenched so hard it was as though his fingers were going to pierce the pages.

Finally, he weakly let go and said, "Yeah. I'm finally going to be free."

It would be a lie to say that it didn't hurt when Marceline heard those words. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't bring herself to. As such, she merely turned and walked away.

Meanwhile, Ken was waiting outside the door. Upon seeing her with her suitcase, he had a troubled expression. "Mrs. Wolfe, Mr. Wolfe didn't mean to leave you out tonight. He…"

But Marceline dragged her suitcase into the rain, as if she didn't want to stay for another second.

After a few steps, she stopped. Then, she turned to look at Ken, who was still by the door. She asked in a low voice, "That person he keeps at Pinebrook Villa—who is it? Can you tell me?"

Ken's entire body stiffened, and he instantly lowered his head, seemingly shocked that she even knew about that place.

Upon seeing his reaction, Marceline quietly drew in a breath. "He's been letting someone stay there for three years now, hasn't he?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know."

Of course Ken knew. He was the one closest to Curtis.

Marceline wiped the rainwater off her face. She was pretty much drenched already. "Never mind. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Mrs. Wolfe…"

But Marceline had already walked farther into the rain.

When she had given Curtis her first time at 18, she had imagined a future with him. She never thought that by 26, everything would fall apart like this.

Letting go of him felt like tearing herself in half, but she truly didn't want to keep this up anymore.

Chapter 3

As Marceline dragged her suitcase to Delilah Mallard's home, she felt a little ashamed.

She had left Cloudcrest Bay with nothing of value but 200 dollars in cash.

In the three years of her marriage, the repeated arguments had driven her into severe depression. She became afraid of going outside to meet people. So, instead of going out, she spent her days in the villa obsessively refining her cooking skills.

It didn't matter if she burned her hands so much that they blistered, she still loved Curtis and wanted to salvage their crumbling relationship.

But no matter how many meals she made, they'd just go cold. In the end, he'd never touched any of them.

Though not related by blood, Marceline and Delilah had always seen each other as sisters—thanks to their closeness and similar last names.

The two of them had left their small town together, and Delilah was adopted by a family soon after.

She was currently married, living a simple life with her partner in a modest 750-square-foot apartment.

After that, Marceline met Curtis.

When she was on the brink of starvation, he had tossed her a piece of bread. Ever since then, she shamelessly latched onto him, scraping by together through odd jobs.

Dripping wet from head to toe, Marceline briefly wiped her face before ringing the doorbell.

Delilah answered the door in her pajamas and was taken aback. Her husband's annoyed voice sounded from the bedroom, "Who's at the door?"

Delilah quickly pulled Marceline inside before fetching a clean towel for her. "Marcy, what are you doing here in the middle of the night? And why are you soaking wet? Did you fight with Curtis?"

"Can I stay the night, Delilah?"

"Of course. We have a spare bedroom. It's pretty small, so I hope you don't mind."

Delilah stuffed a fresh set of pajamas into her arms before efficiently spreading clean sheets on Marceline's bed.

The bathroom was so cramped that it could barely fit two people, but it had a dry and wet area. There were thick brown stains in the corners—a result of years of neglect.

Marceline took a quick shower. Then, not daring to use the blow dryer because of how late it was already, she went straight to the bedroom.

The room was indeed tiny. Other than a small bed, there was only a table that was less than two feet wide.

She heard Jared Haynes' voice coming from the master bedroom.

"Who is it?"

"It's Marcy. She probably had a fight with Curtis."

"She's a rich man's wife—what's she doing here? Don't you know who Curtis is? I've been working at the lowest rung of Wolfe Group for three years now and never even got to meet him once."

"Hey, that's enough. Marcy's my sister."

The whispers stopped there.

After Marceline gently dried her long hair, she bundled it in the towel. Then, she neatly stuffed the wet ends of her hair into it before going to sleep.

…

At seven in the morning, the clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen.

Although her hair had dried overnight, Marceline woke up with a pounding headache. Forcing herself up, she walked out of the room.

There were five small dishes on the table, and Jared was standing there setting the plates.

Upon seeing Marceline, he warmly said, "Marcy, come and have a seat. I went out early to buy fish, and Delilah made gumbo for you."

Normally, they just had toast for breakfast since they were busy with work, but they'd gone all out that day because Marceline was there.

Delilah brought over three plates of pancakes and smiled at her. "Let's eat."

Ever since Marceline had attached herself to Curtis when she was 12, he had never really deprived her of anything, so her complexion was actually quite radiant.

However, this kindness of his had been mistaken for love in her youth. It was only later on that she'd realized he'd only seen her as a little sister.

Marceline lowered her eyes. The pounding in her head left her looking visibly unwell.

Jared enthusiastically pushed some strawberries toward her. "Delilah was up at five, cooking— Oh, Marcy, did you know I work at Wolfe Group? My superior is always bootlicking the higher-ups. Just yesterday, he reduced a young colleague of mine to tears.

"I heard he got the job through connections. He's cut my salary twice… Any chance you could speak to Curtis about him?"

Delilah shot him a glare, but Jared merely smiled.

She quickly ladled a bowl of mushroom soup for Marceline. "You don't look too good. Since you got rained on last night, have some soup to warm you up. Don't mind Jared."

Marceline looked up, her pale cheeks tinged with a feverish red. "Actually, Jared, I'm getting a divorce."

The room fell silent.

Jared's surprise was brief. He asked, "So half his fortune is yours now, right? Marcy, I know he paid for you to go to the best college, but didn't you marry him right after graduation?

"That must mean you've never worked a day in your life, so there's no way you know how to manage money. I'm worried you'll get swindled with all that money."

"Jared!" Delilah snapped.

Jared stopped talking and quietly resumed eating.

Delilah and Marceline had known each other ever since they were little. When they came to Imperialis together years ago, they were like two drops of rain blending into a massive ocean—even survival alone was a struggle.

After Delilah got adopted, Marceline drifted from job to job with Curtis. At least Curtis had treated her well, working himself to exhaustion to put them both through school.

Delilah took a deep breath. "Just keep your money safe. If you want to buy a house, I'll have Jared help you. He's got friends in real estate—"

"I left with nothing." Marceline didn't touch the soup and merely stated, "He didn't give me a single cent."

Jared's face darkened. He pulled the plate of strawberries back and helped himself to them.

After most of the strawberries were gone, he stood up and turned to Delilah. "I almost forgot to tell you. Mom's coming to take you for a check-up in a few days. Get the guest room ready. Family should come first."

Delilah didn't respond.

Soon, Jared left, shutting the door behind him.

All that food on the table suddenly looked unappetizing.

"Sorry for putting you in a tough spot, Delilah," Marceline said.

Delilah's eyes turned red. She sighed. "You didn't. So, how did you two turn out like this? If my memory serves me right, he used to be good to you.

"Remember that time he scolded you when you secretly took on part-time work? He worked five jobs a day, paid for both your tuition, and all the scholarships he earned went to you back then.

"And when you nearly suffered brain damage in that accident that one time, he did translation work tirelessly for almost a year to make money. How did that all change now that he's rich?"

Marceline's throat hurt to even swallow.

Although their early years had been spent in poverty, it had still been full of good times. This was why she'd clung so tightly to their fragile bond for seven more years. Only when she was broken beyond recognition did she finally convince herself to let go.

"I'll start job hunting this afternoon."

"Marcy, if you need to cry, just let it out."

But Marceline couldn't cry anymore. After three years of being married, there were no more tears left to cry.

After breakfast, she insisted on washing the dishes. However, Delilah felt bad seeing her beautiful, slender hands getting dirty.

She said, "Your hands aren't meant for chores. No matter how poor you two were back then, Curtis would never let you do any of this."

Marceline froze, and the prickling pain came rushing back. It was so intense that it took her breath away.

After Delilah did the dishes, she left in a hurry since she had work.

Meanwhile, Marceline stayed in the apartment alone until noon. Then, she went to the courthouse with her documents.

However, at 1:00 pm, Curtis still hadn't shown up.

Marceline called him, and as always, he didn't answer. So, she called Ken. After all, for the past three years, he was the only person she could ask for information from about Curtis' schedule.

"Mr. Blevins, where's Curtis?"

"Mrs. Wolfe, he's away on a business trip. He'll be back in about three days."

Marceline sat on a bench, propping her elbows on her knees as her head spun. "Can you give me his upcoming schedule? I just want to know when he'll be free."

Ken awkwardly looked at the man sitting nearby, exuding a cold and distant air.

Chapter 4

"Mrs. Wolfe, Mr. Wolfe really has no availability in the coming days. He just wrapped up a major acquisition, and the new company's finances are a mess."

Marceline fell silent.

She knew Curtis was busy. For the past three years, he had been so busy that he'd forgotten their anniversary, her birthday, and every single holiday. So, she had spent them all alone.

"Alright. When he returns, could you give me a call to let me know?"

"You don't have to be so polite with me, Mrs. Wolfe."

With that, Marceline ended the call and simply stared blankly at the people coming and going outside the courthouse.

Newlyweds beamed with joy, while divorced couples walked away like strangers, avoiding each other as if they found each other repulsive.

Soon, Marceline pulled out her phone to browse nearby job listings. She had already prepared her résumé and figured she should find a job before doing anything else.

She had majored in vocal music in college, but after what happened with Lyana, she became terrified of singing. And since she couldn't even sing a single note now, her degree became useless.

While browsing through the listings, she found a mid-sized company hiring a personal assistant to a director. There were no professional requirements—just conditions for height, weight, and looks.

Within three minutes of submitting her résumé, the company called and asked her to come in for an interview that afternoon.

Having never worked before, Marceline didn't understand the subtleties of the job market and thought that it was a scam at first. However, once she sat down in front of the interviewer, the interviewer took one look at her and nodded. "When can you start?"

Marceline was surprised. "You haven't asked about my qualifications."

"You majored in music—what qualifications would you have? This role mainly involves accompanying the director to social events.

"The pay is good. It's the kind of job you can only do while you're young, so you should consider it."

"Alright."

With that, Marceline was led to fill out some paperwork and meet the director.

But when she met the director, she realized that it was someone she knew.

Three years ago, shortly after marrying Curtis, she had met this person before.

Back then, he was a senior executive at Wolfe Group. He didn't know Marceline at the time, and thinking she was just a waitress, had tried to kiss her. However, he was caught by Curtis, and later on, Marceline heard that he'd been fired after crossing the wrong people at the company.

That man's name was Shawn Vance. At the moment, her résumé was being pulled up on his computer.

"I thought I was seeing things. Aren't you Curtis' woman? I can't believe you're applying to this small company. What, did Curtis dump you?"

Shawn's intense gaze stayed fixed on Marceline as he slowly shut his laptop. "They say your husband's hardly been home over the past three years. How could he bear to stay away though?"

Marceline was undeniably beautiful. With how graceful and alluring she was, the more anyone looked at her, the harder it was to look away. Even just standing there in casual jeans and a white blouse, she looked effortlessly refined.

"Mr. Vance," Marceline respectfully called out. If he had ulterior motives, she was not going to accept the job.

Nonetheless, Shawn merely gave her a cold snort before eyeing her up and down. "The pay is 20 thousand a month. You'll be accompanying me to events and preparing documents for me. Can you drive?"

"Yes, I can."

"Great. Having the wife of Wolfe Group's CEO as my driver is quite an honor."

"Curtis and I are divorced."

Shawn narrowed his eyes and abruptly chuckled. "Oh, that makes sense. If that weren't the case, a stunning woman like you would never have been allowed to work.

"You can start now. Come with me to a business dinner tonight. I'll pay you half your salary in advance. Sounds good?"

Marceline had no idea how Shawn figured out she was strapped for cash, but he wasn't wrong. She lowered her head and uttered, "Alright."

Soon, someone came to guide her through the onboarding process and assigned her a desk.

Marceline could tell that she was coming down with a fever given how her body was growing hotter by the minute.

Toward the end of the workday, Shawn summoned her to his office and tossed her the car keys. "You're my driver and assistant from now on. We leave now. I'll send you my upcoming schedule."

"Yes, Mr. Vance."

As she clutched the keys, Marceline found Shawn's car in the underground parking lot. After opening the door for him, she got behind the wheel.

Shawn was on the phone, bragging, "Heh, you won't believe who I hired as my assistant. Remember Curtis Wolfe?"

Curtis was a household name in Imperialis. Even before he was reunited with the Wolfe family, he was already a rising star. With his stunning looks and a self-made success story, he had been everywhere in the media.

After he reconnected with his birth family, he became even more prominent. But in recent years, he had kept a low profile, focusing on his business and declining interviews.

Gradually, he faded from the public eye, but within elite circles, there wasn't anyone who didn't know him.

Even though Shawn was now operating in a second-rate business circle, he still had a few connections since he had previously held a high position at Wolfe Group.

"That's right. His wife's my driver now. Hah! Remember how arrogant he used to be?"

Marceline drove and soon stopped outside a well-known hotel. After parking the car, she opened the door for Shawn.

True to his word, he had already deposited ten thousand into her account by then.

His insulting remarks couldn't even faze her—not after what she'd endured while being around Curtis' social circle. She'd grown immune to such humiliation.

Marceline dutifully fulfilled her role as an assistant as she reached out to press the elevator button. Little did she expect that she'd see Curtis and Ken inside.

Ken's eyes briefly widened in surprise before he quickly glanced at Curtis. He didn't dare say a word.

Marceline didn't greet them either. It was Shawn who spoke up.

"Mr. Wolfe, what a coincidence."

Curtis' presence was overwhelming. Even with only four people in the spacious elevator, it felt incredibly suffocating.

Shawn stepped in with a grin. "Ms. Ballard, aren't you coming? Do I really need to invite my own assistant to come in?"

Only then did Marceline enter and press the button for the fifth floor. That floor had private dining rooms for business meetings.

Dining on the fifth floor was already pricey, but the seventh floor was even pricier and reserved for only the most exclusive guests.

Curtis was headed for the seventh floor.

Right as the elevator reached the fifth floor, Marceline was about to step out with Shawn when Curtis said, "Ken."

Ken froze, waiting for instructions.

But Curtis said nothing more.

After pausing for a few seconds, Marceline walked out, and the elevator doors closed behind her.

Feeling a crushing weight bearing down on him, Ken gulped. "I'll look into it right away." He needed to find out why Marceline was here and why she was with Shawn.

Shawn had once tried to force a kiss on her. At the time, Curtis had been so furious that he hadn't hesitated to throw him out.

When the elevator reached the seventh floor, Curtis stepped out and said, "Don't bother. Let her ruin herself if that's what she wants." After all, it wouldn't be the first time she'd jumped into bed with a man on a whim.

Upon hearing that, Ken didn't dare say anything else and simply followed behind Curtis.

…

Shawn opened the door to a private room and greeted the guests.

"Sorry for the delay, everyone. I ran into someone I knew in the elevator."

The room was filled with small-time business partners he was hoping to work with. One of them joked, "Mr. Vance, your new assistant is gorgeous. It's a waste if she doesn't become a model."

Shawn grinned smugly. "I'm not interested in some random model."

The group of middle-aged men began making dirty jokes, their eyes roving over Marceline.

However, Marceline kept her head down, as if blind to it all.

Shawn lifted his chin. "Go pour Mr. Dorian a drink. He's been staring at you since you got here."

Chapter 5

Marceline got up, walked over to Henry Dorian, and bent down to pour him a glass of wine.

Henry's gaze lingered on her face. He was about to touch her waist when she smoothly dodged his hand with her wine glass. "Cheers, Mr. Dorian."

Henry awkwardly retracted his hand and downed the drink.

Marceline then returned to Shawn's side, instantly switching back to her docile, well-mannered demeanor.

Soon, the middle-aged men finally began discussing the main topic of the evening.

After their discussion was done, someone remarked, "I saw Curtis in the lobby earlier. His presence sure is overwhelming. Is the Wolfe family planning to make him their successor? Would their eldest son really be okay with that?"

In truly wealthy families, sibling rivalry was no joke.

"Mr. Zachary has that refined, gentlemanly air. He's completely different from Curtis, who rose from nothing. Curtis is practically ruthless, and the rest of the Wolfe family fears him.

"I've heard Mr. Zachary actually indulges his younger brother, but who knows if it's genuine or just for show."

"Heh, who knows what kind of twisted power games go on in those wealthy families. I handed Curtis my card once, and he didn't even glance at it."

"You flattered the wrong person. I once complimented Ms. Farrell at a party, and he took my card immediately."

Shawn, who was 39 that year, glanced at Marceline with a trace of sympathy in his eyes when he heard that.

But Marceline was already used to this and simply listened in silence.

"Curtis really treats Jenna well. She's been on his arm at every event for years now. I heard they nearly got married once, but some woman spiked his drink."

"Speaking of which, has anyone actually seen the woman he married?"

Everyone started making wild guesses about Curtis' wife, wondering whether he utterly loathed the disgraceful woman or if he had already torn her to pieces.

Shawn chuckled. "Well, Ms. Ballard would know best. Why don't you tell us whether he has torn her to pieces or not, Ms. Ballard?"

Marceline's eyelashes trembled slightly. She calmly scanned the curious faces around her and softly replied, "We live in a society governed by laws."

They all burst out laughing and called her witty.

Shawn laughed too, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.

Unlike the others present, he was different since he had worked among Wolfe Group's top brass.

Marceline smiled along, then excused herself to the restroom.

She stood before the mirror in the restroom and looked at her pale face. Her head still hurt, and she felt nauseous, so she tried waking herself up by splashing cold water on her face.

When she stepped out, she spotted Curtis leaning against the wall nearby.

All the rooms on the fifth floor were average private rooms, so what was he doing here?

But to Marceline, that wasn't what she wanted to know the most.

She said, "Curtis, weren't you away on a business trip? Are you free tomorrow?"

Curtis' gaze flicked across her face. "Tomorrow's the weekend. The courthouse isn't open. With that brain of yours, you might only be cut out for being a housewife."

Accustomed to his constant jabs, Marceline barely reacted. She looked toward the private room where Shawn was and said, "I'll contact Ken on Monday then."

She'd used to call Curtis often, but since he never answered, she eventually got used to calling Ken.

Curtis scoffed. "Suit yourself."

Without giving a response, Marceline turned to walk back toward the room.

Then, Curtis said, "Isn't being a stay-at-home wife better than being surrounded by greasy old men? Marceline, didn't you use to have a lot of pride?"

In their three years of marriage, Marceline could count on one hand the number of times he came home.

All her pride had long been exhausted by years of depression, and she had only gotten better after trying various treatments for years.

"Curtis, I have more dignity here than I ever did with you."

The air around Curtis turned cold, and his eyes darkened terrifyingly. He strode toward Marceline and yanked her by the wrist. "What did you just say? Say that again!"

His hand tightly gripped her jaw, but Marceline simply looked back at him with a calm face.

Curtis' eyes were menacing.

After a few seconds, he let go and slipped his hand into his pocket. "Then keep entertaining them. Don't come looking for me again. We should've ended this long ago, Marceline."

"I know." Marceline sincerely nodded and smiled. "I won't ever go looking for you."

Her words now contrasted to that of years ago, when she had clung to his hand and promised that no matter where he went, she would go to him.

Curtis didn't spare her another glance and stormed off.

Marceline wasn't delusional enough to think he'd come to this floor for her. Not giving it much thought, she opened the door to the private room and went back in.

By then, Shawn had just wrapped up his conversations and was ready to leave.

Henry gave him a look.

Earlier, when Marceline had stepped out, he had suggested to Shawn that she should be the one to send him home. As for what kind of intentions were behind that, to everyone present, it was clear as day.

These people were all tightly leashed by their families, so public-facing assistants had to be male, but in private, they all kept women.

None of those women could compare to Marceline in terms of looks. To sleep with her even once would feel like being in heaven.

Shawn gave Marceline a gentle shove. He didn't quite push her toward Henry, but his action was suggestive. "Look how smitten Mr. Dorian is with you, Ms. Ballard."

Marceline naturally replied, "Oh, that's on me then. I'll treat Mr. Dorian to a drink next time. May I have your card, Mr. Dorian?"

Henry, pleased, pulled out his business card and handed it over.

Marceline thoughtfully accepted it, which pleased him. Right then and there, he agreed to cooperate with Shawn.

Shawn then immediately pulled out a prepared contract and handed it to Marceline.

Marceline looked hesitant.

Henry, not wanting to see a beauty in distress, signed the contract immediately before giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Ms. Ballard, don't forget to call me. You young folks have a lot to learn."

Marceline smiled. "Of course. I won't forget."

By the time they reached the hotel lobby, Curtis had just stepped out of another elevator with his entourage. At his side were two of his close friends. One was James Lovell, a doctor, and the other was Nate Brody.

None of them liked Marceline.

Over the past few years, she hadn't attended a single event and had simply stayed at home.

Though she didn't go over to say hello, James still spotted her and raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that Marceline?"

All eyes turned to look.

At that moment, Henry still had his hand on Marceline's shoulder. It was obvious to everyone that he was getting fresh with her.

When Henry noticed that it was Curtis and the others, he immediately switched his demeanor and rushed over to them.

"Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Brody, what an honor! Do you remember me, Mr. Wolfe? I gave you my card once." He was all bows and flattery, looking like he might even just get on his knees and lick their shoes.

Curtis' gaze drifted past him and paused on Marceline.

Marceline wasn't looking at him as she was saying something to Shawn.

Although Shawn was almost 40, he still looked decent since he was one to take care of himself.

With a grin, he met Curtis' eyes.

Meanwhile, Marceline stood beside him, emotionless.

Curtis couldn't quite remember when her smile had vanished entirely. The last time she truly smiled brightly had been so many years ago.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he looked at Henry.

"Get lost."