Chapter 1

At 20 years old, Amelia Caldwell married Matthew Sterling, a man with autism.

For five years of their marriage, he was like a block of ice that refused to melt. He had set three unbreakable rules for her—no talking to him, no touching him, and absolutely no intimacy with him.

Then an earthquake struck. Instinctively, she lunged at Matthew, wanting to protect him, only to watch him carefully shield another woman and flee from the rubble with her, without even glancing back.

Amelia woke up in the hospital covered in wounds, and the first thing she did was stumble out of bed to look for him.

However, what she heard was the woman's soft, gentle coaxing.

"Matt, it's just a minor scrape. I really am fine. Your wife seems badly injured, though… Don't you want to go check on her?"

After a brief silence, Matthew's icy voice pierced through the closed door.

"I don't like her, so it's none of my concern whether she lives or dies."

At that moment, Amelia's heart shattered.

So when Leonard Stirling, Matthew's grandfather, rushed to the hospital, she looked at him and requested, "Leonard, please let me divorce Matthew."

Leonard froze, his wrinkled face etched with shock. "Amelia, why bring this up so suddenly? Did… Did that brat mistreat you again?"

Amelia lowered her eyes and said nothing.

Mistreat her? Did his constant coldness toward her over the years count as mistreating her?

She had grown up an orphan, raised in an orphanage. When she was eight years old, Leonard brought her back to the Sterling family. He told her that Matthew was autistic and didn't like talking or interacting with others.

Leonard was getting on in years, and he was afraid that after he passed, no one would watch over his grandson. So, he brought her back, gave her a home, and offered her something she could depend on in the future—by making her Matthew's bride.

From as early as Amelia could remember, she knew she was destined to marry Matthew. Even though he never looked at her, never spoke to her, and ignored every kindness she offered, she followed him around without complaint. She learned to take care of him and manage his daily life.

When he had episodes—throwing things or hurting himself—she would rush in to hold him tight, despite the potential risk.

When he refused to eat, she'd warm his food again and again, coaxing him gently.

When he refused to interact with others, she'd guide him little by little.

Year after year, she poured all her energy and youth into him. She watched as he slowly got better. Even though he was still aloof, he could at least lead a normal life and had even taken over the family business.

She thought that was how their days would go on forever. Even if he remained an unyielding block of ice, she'd accepted it.

That was, until that business banquet.

Sierra Jensen appeared in a pure white gown, looking like an ethereal being who had accidentally wandered into the human world.

For the first time, Matthew watched someone so intently that he couldn't look away. He even spoke his first complete sentence to Amelia—one that was a clear directive as well. "Take off your shawl and give it to her. She's cold."

In that moment, Amelia's heart stung like it had been pricked by a needle.

She silently removed her shawl and watched him carefully wrap it around Sierra, his eyes holding a tenderness she'd never seen before.

From that moment on, his world seemed to open up for Sierra—and Sierra alone.

He smiled at her and listened patiently to her. He scoured the globe for rare treasures just because she said she liked them. He abandoned important meetings when she called, and his eyes would fill with a rare panic whenever she frowned.

These were all things Amelia had longed for through her entire youth, yet she never received.

And now, in that earthquake, Matthew had shielded Sierra without hesitation, leaving Amelia in danger.

Even afterward, when she was injured, he'd said the words, "It's none of my concern whether she lives or dies."

Amelia finally understood—some things couldn't be earned through sheer effort, like love or Matthew's heart.

Over a decade of care and companionship meant less to him than Sierra's three months.

Amelia took a deep breath, blinking back the sting in her eyes.

"Leonard, you probably already heard what happened today. When the earthquake hit, he protected Ms. Jensen and left me there. Just now, outside his door, I heard him say it himself. He doesn't like me, and it's none of his concern whether I live or die.

"Things don't end well when they're forced. Since Matthew doesn't like me, and he even hates me, it's better that we divorce. That would be best for everyone."

Leonard's brows furrowed deeply as he let out a heavy sigh. "But Amelia, you've been the one taking care of Matt all these years. If someone else suddenly steps in, I'm afraid he—"

"Leonard," Amelia interrupted softly, her tone tired and tinged with a trace of irony. "You've seen it too. He's been doing much better lately after spending time with Ms. Jensen. He smiles, he cares for others, and he expresses his emotions.

"Maybe… leaving me is what's best for him. He seems able to open himself up more to Ms. Jensen."

Leonard froze. He thought of Matthew's recent changes, and they had indeed started after Sierra's appearance.

He fell silent for a long while, then sighed deeply. Looking as if he'd suddenly aged in those few seconds, he said, "Very well. Since you're set on leaving, I… respect your decision."

…

After two days of recuperating in the hospital, Amelia returned to the house she'd maintained and cared for over the past five years.

She walked straight into the bedroom, opened the drawer by the bed, reached deep inside, and pulled out a document—a divorce agreement.

Matthew's signature was already neatly scrawled in the lower right corner. Seeing those familiar yet cold-looking strokes, she couldn't help the ache that twisted in her chest.

Five years of marriage, and he loathed her utterly.

Whenever anything didn't go his way, or if she showed too much concern for him and irritated him, he'd coldly throw a signed divorce agreement at her and tell her to get lost.

At first, every time she saw the agreement, she'd hide out in her room and cry for days. Then, she'd tear it to shreds in front of him. She would just tell herself to hold on a little longer, thinking he'd get better.

Eventually, as it happened again and again, her heart grew numb, and she stopped tearing them up. The last time he threw one at her, she took it calmly and quietly stored it away.

She never thought it would actually come in handy.

She picked up a pen and carefully and solemnly signed her name—Amelia Caldwell—in the blank space next to his.

Chapter 2

Amelia contacted a lawyer, who told her that the paperwork would take about a month to process.

She replied flatly, "Got it."

The moment she ended the call, there was a noise at the door. Matthew had returned, with Sierra in tow.

When he saw her in the living room, his brows drew together instinctively. "Perfect timing. You have 15 minutes to move your things out of the main bedroom. Sisi was shaken up recently, so she needs the best environment to rest in. The main bedroom has the best light and ventilation, so she'll stay there."

Sierra stood behind him in an elegant dress, her expression soft, but her eyes betrayed a trace of unconcealed smugness.

"Matt, is that a good idea?"

Matthew didn't even spare Amelia a glance. He only looked at Sierra, his tone carrying a rare patience. "Don't mind her. She's just a maid Grandpa hired to look after me. If not for his sake, she wouldn't even be worthy of living here."

When Amelia heard those cruel words, her heart was in so much agony that she felt numb. She didn't say anything or even look in their direction. She merely walked to the main bedroom and silently packed her belongings.

Sierra followed her, pretending to help. "Ms. Caldwell, let me give you a hand."

Amelia was just about to refuse when she looked up and found Sierra holding an old but well-preserved wooden box. That was the only keepsake her late grandmother had left her.

"Don't touch that!" Amelia's head snapped up, her voice sharp with urgency.

Sierra's hand jerked as if startled, and the lid flew open. A silver hairpin tumbled out, and the delicate cherry blossom at its tip instantly became crushed upon impact.

Amelia's eyes grew wide. She lunged forward, pushed Sierra aside, and picked up the hairpin. With trembling fingers, she yelled, "Who said you could touch my things?"

Sierra stumbled backward, and her eyes instantly reddened as she looked pitifully at Matthew, who was standing at the door.

He strode in and yanked Amelia away with such force that she nearly fell.

"Amelia Caldwell! What's wrong with you?" he snarled, his eyes terrifyingly icy, as if he were staring at an enemy. "It's just a worthless trinket! How is it worth assaulting someone over?"

"That's my grandma's keepsake!" Amelia cried out, clutching the hairpin and glaring at him with reddened eyes.

"So? It's just an object. So what if it's broken?"

His tone was cold and filled with impatience. "Either way, pushing someone is wrong. Apologize to Sisi!"

Amelia only found it all ridiculous as tears flooded her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?"

"Are you not going to apologize?" Matthew asked, his expression turning colder still.

He barked toward the door, "Bodyguards! Drag her out to the yard and make her kneel there. She can only get up when she admits her mistake!"

Two bodyguards entered immediately, their faces blank as they dragged Amelia out.

The late autumn ground was hard and cold. She was forced to kneel on the pebble path, pain shooting through her knees. She gritted her teeth and kept her back straight, refusing to give in.

As night fell, the temperature dropped. Eventually, a cold drizzle began to fall. Rain soaked her hair and clothes, the chill biting into her bones. Her knees went numb with pain, and her whole body trembled uncontrollably from the cold, her face as pale as a sheet.

But she remained silent, biting down on her lip.

Amelia didn't know how long she'd knelt there. Eventually, her vision blurred, and everything went black. She collapsed into the icy rainwater.

When she woke up, it was already morning. She was still lying in the drenched yard, her body frozen, her bones aching as if they were about to fall apart.

Matthew stood under the porch roof, looking down his nose at her, his eyes utterly devoid of sympathy. "Sisi is kind-hearted, and she's decided not to hold it against you. We'll let it go this time. But, Amelia, put away those cheap little schemes of yours. Don't test my patience again."

Amelia tried to stand, but she just collapsed again. She was just too weak and too cold.

She looked up at the man she had spent her entire youth loving, and her heart splintered into a thousand pieces. Lowering her lashes to hide all emotion, she said in a hoarse but calm voice, "Understood."

She dragged her exhausted, frozen body back to the room. With reddened eyes, she stared at the massive wedding photo hanging on the wall. In the picture, Matthew's face was blank, his gaze distant and cold—just like how he'd been with her all these years.

What a joke.

They hadn't had a wedding ceremony, nor had they received any blessings from guests. There was only this one wedding photo that Leonard had forced Matthew to take.

Even during the photoshoot, Matthew had refused to cooperate. The smile in the final framed photo had been edited in by the photographer after much effort.

Suddenly, everything felt absurd beyond measure to her.

She found some tools and, after a bit of a struggle, took the massive frame down. Then, with a pair of scissors, she cut the photo into so many pieces that it could never be put together.

Since she was leaving, there was no reason to leave behind these empty illusions.

Chapter 3

Just as Amelia finished gathering up the cut pieces, the door swung open again.

Matthew stood in the doorway, not even stepping inside. He just looked at her, his tone flat and emotionless, yet it carried an unquestionable command.

"I suddenly feel like having the cinnamon sugar donut bites from that place on the east side of the city. Go buy them."

They lived on the west side of the city, so getting to the east meant basically traversing the whole city, and a round trip would take at least three or four hours.

But Matthew didn't care about that. If he wanted something, Amelia had to make it happen. If this were before, she would go, no matter how exhausted she was. But now, she had just spent the night on her knees in the freezing rain. Her head was spinning, and her body was burning.

When Matthew saw her hesitating, his expression darkened.

In the end, Amelia didn't say anything. She silently grabbed her wallet and keys and left.

Nearly four hours later, she returned with the box of still piping-hot cinnamon sugar donut bites in front of him. Yet, he didn't even spare her a glance. He simply picked up the box and carried it to Sierra, who was sitting on the couch.

He speared a donut bite with a fork, blew on it carefully, then gently held it to Sierra's lips. "Sisi, weren't you saying you had no appetite because you weren't feeling well, and that you wanted something sweet to warm you up? Here, try this?"

A blush rose on Sierra's pale cheeks. She obediently opened her mouth and ate it.

So… it was Sierra who wanted them.

Amelia stood rooted to the spot, watching the scene. Her chest tightened so hard that it felt like even the breaths she took caused searing pain.

All these years, he had shut himself off completely, refusing to communicate and rejecting the outside world. She even needed to coax him for ages just to get him to eat.

She had endured all his bad moods and aloofness alone, caring for his every need with all her heart. She had always believed that his indifference and distance were because of his disorder. Only now, seeing him being so tender and patient toward Sierra, did she finally understand.

He wasn't incapable of kindness. He wasn't born without the ability to care. He simply hated her, Amelia Caldwell.

A dull ache spread from her heart, as if a chunk had been gouged from it. She turned around silently and returned upstairs to the small guest room she'd temporarily moved into. Shivering violently—perhaps she had a fever—she buried herself under the covers and drifted into a hazy sleep.

She didn't know how long she slept before being jolted awake by a commotion downstairs, vaguely hearing Sierra's muffled moans and Matthew's panicked shouts.

She staggered out of bed, wanting to go check things out, but just as she opened the door, she came face to face with Matthew's stormy expression, his eyes blazing with anger.

He seized her wrist with bone-crushing force, his voice like shards of ice. "Amelia Caldwell! How dare you poison the donut bites! Has kneeling all night taught you nothing?"

Poison?

Amelia froze, then quickly said, "I didn't! I handed the box straight to you—how could I have poisoned them?"

"Who else could it be? Sisi's been having unbearable stomach pain after eating them!" Matthew snarled, not believing a word she said, his gaze dark and terrifying. "Since you refuse to admit your mistakes, you'll suffer double the pain Sisi is going through!"

Turning to the bodyguards, he barked, "Get some mangoes! Force her to eat them!"

Amelia's eyes dilated in horror. She was allergic to mangoes!

"Matthew! You can't do this! I didn't do anything!"

She backed away in panic, but the bodyguards already had her pinned, peeling the mango and roughly shoving it into her mouth.

She was forced to swallow the sweet flesh, and soon enough, large welts erupted across her skin. Her throat swelled, and it became incredibly difficult to breathe. Her chest heaved violently, and darkness pulsed before her eyes.

Matthew merely watched her writhe in agony with cold indifference. Then, he turned around without hesitation, scooped up Sierra—who was faking painful moans on the couch—and strode out of the manor, heading straight for the hospital.

Chapter 4

Amelia mustered the last bit of her strength to crawl over to the nightstand. With trembling hands, she fumbled for the antihistamines she kept around for emergencies and shoved them into her mouth.

The medication eventually took effect. She collapsed back onto the floor, gasping for air. Tears mixed with sweat streaked across the red welts on her face, leaving her a mess.

For the next few days, Matthew never came home. But from Sierra's Instagram updates, Amelia could see what he had done for her. He took Sierra to his private doctor, accompanied her to an art exhibition, bought her limited-edition jewelry, and so on.

Soon, it was Sierra's birthday.

Matthew knew Sierra loved painting, so, even though she lacked talent, he still spent a fortune organizing a solo exhibition for her.

Before leaving for the event, Sierra deliberately came up to Amelia and said, "Ms. Caldwell, my exhibit opens today. You must come. I really appreciate how you've 'taken care' of me lately."

Amelia expressionlessly pulled her hand away. "I'm not interested."

Sierra immediately plastered a wounded expression on her face.

Next to her, Matthew's face darkened, his tone curt. "Sierra was kind enough to invite you, so why are you being so difficult? Don't disappoint her!"

Amelia didn't want to argue over something so insignificant, so ultimately, she quietly followed them to the gallery.

Inside, Sierra's garish, juvenile paintings were meticulously framed and hung.

As they turned a corner, they overheard two men who looked like art critics whispering, "Mr. Sterling sure is generous. How does this level of work even deserve a show?"

"Ha! He's just spoiling his little lover. Didn't you see the woman next to him? He guards her like she's some delicate treasure. He pays her way more attention than his actual wife."

When Sierra heard this, she immediately lowered her head, feeling aggrieved. With her eyes shimmering with tears, she asked, "Matt… did I embarrass you? Are my paintings really that bad?"

Matthew quickly soothed her, his voice gentle. "Don't listen to their nonsense. Your paintings are wonderful."

Then, he took out his phone and sent a quick text.

Soon after, a large crowd suddenly poured into the gallery, swarming around Sierra's paintings and scrambling to buy them. They kept praising the art as "genius" and "full of soul".

Only then did Sierra break out into a teary smile.

Amelia watched it all coldly. She recognized those "collectors" and "admirers" as executives and employees from Sterling Group. This was nothing more than another performance Matthew had staged just to make Sierra happy.

She suddenly recalled the time when she had first arrived at the Sterlings. She had fallen ill with a high fever, and all the maids happened to be away. She weakly crawled to Matthew's door, begging him to get her some medicine or call the family doctor.

Matthew, who had only been ten years old then, only gave her a single, indifferent glance. Those beautiful yet vacant eyes showed not a ripple of emotion. Then, with a loud bang, the door was slammed in her face.

The cold despair she had felt that very moment still lingered vividly in her memory.

As it turned out, he wasn't heartless. His heart had simply never beaten for her, not even once.

Just then, a shrill fire alarm blared somewhere inside the gallery, and thick smoke started billowing out.

"Fire!" someone screamed.

Panic erupted, and people surged toward the exits in terror.

Sierra, pale with fright, threw herself into Matthew's arms with a shriek. He immediately pulled her close, shielding her with his body as he parted the crowd and swiftly moved them toward the emergency exit.

In the rush, his elbow slammed into Amelia, who had been trying to steady herself. Caught off guard, she was knocked to the floor.

Before she could scramble to her feet, a sickening crack sounded overhead, and a burning decorative beam crashed down. The heavy weight crushed her leg, sending a wave of unbearable pain surging through her.

As her consciousness faded, she seemed to hear Sierra, who had already made it out into the safe zone, turn around and say, "Matt, I think Ms. Caldwell fell… Should we—"

Then came Matthew's voice—cold, heartless, utterly detached—cutting through the chaos and reaching her fading awareness.

"No. I've said it before. Whether she lives or dies is of no concern to me."

Chapter 5

When Amelia opened her eyes again, she found herself in the hospital. Sierra sat by the bed, casually peeling an apple.

Seeing that Amelia was awake, Sierra quickly set the apple down and plastered on a look of concern mixed with guilt. "Ms. Caldwell, you're awake? How are you feeling? It's all my fault… Everything was so chaotic back then, and Matt was just trying to protect me, so he overlooked you. Please don't blame him."

Amelia closed her eyes. "It's just the two of us here, so why bother acting? If I'm not mistaken, you deliberately smashed my grandma's keepsake and staged the donut bites incident yourself. Even the fire at the gallery… You had someone start it, didn't you?"

The room fell into utter silence.

A few seconds later, Sierra's pitiful mask melted away, replaced by a cold, cutting mockery and contempt that came after being exposed.

She gave a soft laugh. "So you're not that stupid after all. Yes, I did it all. I did all of that because I wanted you to see—you mean nothing to Matt.

"Right now, his eyes and his heart are full of me. You know he loathes you, and yet you still shamelessly cling to the title of 'Mrs. Sterling'? Don't you think that's pathetic? Just get a divorce. That'll be better for everyone."

Amelia opened her eyes and stared calmly at the ceiling, her voice flat. "I understand."

What she meant was that she was leaving soon, and the divorce papers were already being processed. But Sierra clearly misunderstood her, assuming Amelia was just brushing her off and refusing to let Matthew go.

Sierra's expression darkened instantly. She shot to her feet, her voice hardening. "I tried being polite, but since you insist on making this difficult, don't blame me for what comes next!"

With a cold scoff, she grabbed her bag and strutted out of the hospital room, arrogantly and with her heels clicking loudly against the floor.

Amelia didn't have the strength to chase after her, nor did she have the desire to explain herself. She merely closed her eyes again. Her departure date was fast approaching, so it didn't matter what tricks Sierra pulled.

For the next few days, neither Matthew nor Sierra appeared at the hospital again. Amelia welcomed the peace and focused on recuperating.

On the day of her discharge, there happened to be an important charity gala that required Matthew to attend with his wife.

As unwilling as she was, Amelia knew this would be the last time she had to fulfill her role as "Mrs. Sterling". She changed into an elegant evening gown and applied light makeup to hide the pallor of her complexion.

When she reached the car, she found Sierra already sitting in the back seat, nestled intimately against Matthew's shoulder, giggling and chatting away.

Seeing Amelia, Sierra immediately straightened up and explained, "Ms. Caldwell, don't get the wrong idea. Matthew said the gala would be boring, so he invited me to tag along so I could unwind."

Matthew didn't even look at Amelia. His voice was cold and dismissive. "Why bother explaining to her? As if I need her permission to bring someone. Who does she think she is?"

The words stabbed into Amelia's heart like an icicle. Though long numb, a faint ache still lingered.

She silently opened the front passenger door and sat down, not saying a word throughout the whole ride.

At the auction venue, glasses clinked, chandeliers glittered, and the air buzzed with laughter and luxury.

Matthew stayed by Sierra's side the whole evening, fetching her drinks and introducing her to important guests, showering her with care and attention.

As for Amelia, he didn't even glance once in her direction. Anyone not in the know would likely assume that Sierra was his actual wife.

When the auction started, Matthew would lean close to Sierra after each item was presented and murmur, "Do you like it?"

And each time she so much as nodded or glanced longer than a second, he would raise his paddle without hesitation, buying the items at staggering prices. Then, he'd turn to her and say, "For you."

Jewelry, paintings, antiques—priceless items were delivered before her, piling up high.

As an acquaintance of the Sterling family watched the spectacle unfold, he finally leaned toward Matthew and whispered, "Matt, you're being awfully generous to Ms. Jensen… Won't Amelia be upset?"

Matthew swirled his wine, his eyes never meeting Amelia's. His tone was incredibly indifferent as he retorted, "What right does she have to be upset? It's my money. I can give it to whomever I please. She has no say."

Hearing this, Sierra shot Amelia a triumphant look while tugging at Matthew's sleeve, pretending to be understanding and considerate. "Matt, these are too expensive. Maybe… I can share some with Ms. Caldwell?"

Only then did Matthew spare Amelia a glance—one full of aloofness and warning—before turning back to Sierra, his voice softening again. "These are all yours. Don't worry. No one can take away what I give you."

With his stance so blatant, whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Goodness, they've been married for years, and I've never seen Mr. Sterling dote on his wife that way."

"That's not all. Do you see how Mr. Sterling's behaving? I'd say Mrs. Sterling's days are numbered."

"They were never from the same world anyway. Why force them together? It'll all just end up as one big joke."

"After putting in so much effort for so many years, she still ends up with nothing. It's quite sad, really…"