Chapter 1

Everyone in the Nasledo social circle knew that Miranda Doyle had a saintly, impossibly devoted husband. Yet during her postpartum period, she received a message from an unknown number which simply read, "Dorian cheated, and I have proof."

Those few words felt like a slap in her face. Miranda felt her breath catch in her throat.

She instinctively lifted her head and saw Dorian Cannon standing by the bathroom sink, his sleeves rolled up as he washed the pair of pants she had just changed out of, the ones stained with postpartum discharge.

The powerful and refined CEO of Cannon Group looked nothing like the man the world knew. He handled the household chores with seemingly practiced ease. And the reason for that was that he could not trust anyone else with her things.

She shook her head with a wry smile and simply ignored the message. This was Dorian they were talking about—the man who loved her more than he loved his life. Even if every man in the world cheated, she believed Dorian would never.

But three days later, another message appeared on her screen. It read, "If you don't believe me, check the inside pocket of Dorian's coat."

The sender wrote as if they were already certain how she would react, and fear coiled around her heart, tightening mercilessly.

With hesitant hands, she slowly slid her fingers into the inner pocket and pulled out a neatly folded bundle. The instant she realized what it was, she recoiled as if she had been burned.

Mint-scented condoms tumbled to the floor. She recognized the brand immediately. Before her pregnancy, Dorian had used them every night when they were intimate.

There were 12 in a pack, and nine were already gone. Miranda felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. That had made no sense.

She and Dorian had been childhood sweethearts for over a decade. From the moment they met to falling in love, to getting married—everything had come naturally, and people envied them for it.

After the wedding, Dorian treated her like a fragile treasure, handling everything concerning her himself and never letting anyone else interfere.

He even stayed by her side throughout the entire childbirth, even though most men avoided such moments. He had cried emotionally in the delivery room with her.

Miranda had once believed with absolute certainty that meeting Dorian was the greatest fortune of her life. But when she saw the three condoms lying on the floor, it hit her like a punch to the gut. Her head spun, and the world seemed to fold in on her.

Her fingers twitched nervously, clenching and unclenching around nothing. Finally, she tapped on the message and opened up the chat window.

That was when the person sent her an address. "If you want the truth, come."

Miranda arrived at the location shortly after. It was a private room in an upscale club.

Through a crack in the door, she saw Dorian, who had told her he was out closing an important deal. He was kissing Joanna Goodwin, the newly promoted vice CEO, without shame or restraint—so passionately, so forcefully—it was as if he wanted to fuse her into his very being.

The kiss dragged on endlessly. When they finally pulled apart, their mutual friends in the room whistled and cheered. One of them laughed and teased, "Dorian, you're really into Joanna. Is she better than Miranda?"

Dorian gently smoothed Joanna's rumpled blouse. His voice was soft, but chillingly indifferent. "She doesn't compare to Joanna.

"No one could ever compare to Miranda back then. But now, to be honest, I haven't been with her for almost a year."

The group exchanged looks. Someone asked with open curiosity, "Dorian, you practically set the whole world ablaze chasing Miranda back then. How could you be over her after only three years?"

Dorian was silent for a long moment before speaking again. "It's not that I don't love Miranda. I do. But every time I get close, all I can think about is how ugly she looked during the pregnancy. And that day in the delivery room…"

As if recalling it again, Dorian furrowed his brow sharply. "You've never seen it—the way her belly swelled into a grotesque shape, covered in stretch marks, and how she lost control of her bladder and bowels while giving birth... it was disgusting.

"I couldn't handle it. I even thought I might never be able to touch her again."

With that, he pulled Joanna close again, his eyes softening instantly. "Joanna helped me find myself again. We were intimate on the third day we met. Today is the 28th day, and we've slept together 99 times. She promised me she wouldn't have children."

His tone was sweet, yet his words were cruel enough to shatter Miranda's world completely.

"She will always be clean and beautiful... Unlike Miranda, who only makes me feel sick."

Miranda didn't know how she had left. When she came back to herself, she was kneeling beside the crib, trembling.

For the past three generations, the Cannon family has produced only one heir per generation. She hadn't planned to have a child so soon. It had taken three months of Dorian's relentless pleading before she finally agreed.

When the pregnancy test came back positive, she felt dazed, but Dorian was nearly in tears with joy, holding her close and kissing her endlessly.

"I'm going to be a dad! Miranda, I'm so happy!" His tears had been so real, and the love he showed her and the baby had been so genuine.

And yet behind her back, he found her disgusting—too ugly, too revolting—every word was enough to crush Miranda, even though she had become like this because of him.

Despite that, Dorian had met Joanna the day he left the delivery room. Three days later, he slept with her.

A searing pain ripped through her chest. Trembling, Miranda forced herself to pick up her phone and send a message to the "kind stranger."

"It was you, wasn't it, Joanna? Since you want him so badly, Dorian belongs to you now."

Dorian had called her ugly. Now, she despised him even more. She didn't want him anymore.

Chapter 2

Joanna seemed to have been waiting for Miranda's message, as her reply came almost instantly.

"I didn't expect you to be so straightforward… From what Dorian described, I thought you'd be clueless and indecisive," Joanna wrote, her words dripping with mockery, cutting straight to Miranda's heart and leaving her reeling.

But she said nothing, silently downloading the divorce agreement Joanna had sent and printing it out. When she went to sign it, her hand shook so violently she could barely hold the pen.

From the age of eight to 25—for 17 years—Dorian had been by her side for every important moment of her life. She still remembered when she was a teenager, a gang cornered her in an alley. Dorian, with sheer determination and bare fists, drove them away.

He was covered in blood, yet he comforted her, completely unharmed, saying, "Randa, you're my life. No one can ever hurt you."

That blood-stained smile and how he risked his life to protect her… Dorian had been etched into her heart from that very moment.

Turning away from those beautiful memories felt like a part of Miranda's life was ripped from her, causing her unbearable pain. She gripped her pen so hard that her fingertips went white—just then, two messages arrived one after the other.

One message came from Joanna. "Dorian bought a new box. He bet me he could use them all tonight."

The other was from Dorian. "Randa, there's an issue with a contract. I'll be working late at the office tonight."

Working late… That explained all the sudden extra overtime during her postpartum recovery. Miranda grabbed the divorce agreement and signed her name carefully, stroke by stroke.

The moment she finished, emptiness flooded her heart. She didn't sleep that night, and the next morning, she carried the signed divorce agreement to Cannon Group.

Joanna was waiting for her in the CEO's office on the top floor.

"I didn't expect you'd actually agree." Joanna sneered, tossing her long hair to one side to reveal the red marks on her neck. "Your signature is fine. Let me just stamp it."

After saying that, she entered the safe code in the office and took out Dorian's official seal, representing the highest authority at Cannon Group, and pressed it onto the divorce agreement as casually as if it were nothing.

After stamping on it, Joanna handed it back to Miranda with a look of contempt. "The processing's gonna take about a month. Mrs. Cannon, you can't hold onto a man who's fallen out of love. Don't change your mind later."

Then, as if recalling something, she added, "Oh, and Dorian lost yesterday's bet. He only used 11 condoms. The last one is yours."

She let out a delicate, mocking laugh that was dripping with sarcasm.

Miranda fought back the suffocating pain in her chest and gritted her teeth. "Don't worry, I'll never regret it. Keep this secondhand man for yourself."

With that, she ignored the furious Joanna and turned to leave. She had only taken a couple of steps when she ran straight into Dorian.

Upon seeing her, he froze for a moment, then smiled instantly. "Randa, what are you doing here? Did you miss me?"

His usual gentle tone made her chest ache, which almost made her blurt out, "Dorian, I want to—"

However, before she could say the word "divorce," Joanna's teasing voice cut in, "Dorian, I'm hungry."

In an instant, Dorian ignored the tears welling in Miranda's eyes and turned his attention to Joanna. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought you to the office before breakfast."

Then, he turned to Miranda. "Randa, we'll talk tonight. I'll have the driver take you home."

Dorian, who had never trusted anyone else with Miranda, finally seemed at ease and could entrust her to someone else.

Miranda looked at Joanna's triumphant smile, her heart heavy with grief, but the words wouldn't come. She turned to leave, and just as she reached the lobby, Dorian appeared with Joanna trailing behind him.

In front of all the Cannon Group employees, Joanna handed Miranda a tube of stretch mark cream.

"Mrs. Cannon, Dorian said your stretch marks are pretty bad," Joanna said. Then, she raised her voice deliberately.

"With stretch marks like that, it's no wonder men avoid you… You should be using this cream more!"

Her brazen mockery drew a collective gasp from the crowd. Hundreds of eyes swept over Miranda, filled with judgment and curiosity. Anger and shame collided within her, making her body tremble.

She slapped the cream away and shouted, "I don't need it. Stretch marks aren't ugly!"

With a loud smack, the tube hit the floor. Joanna's eyes flickered sharply for a moment before softening into a hurt expression. "Dorian, I was only trying to help."

All eyes turned to Dorian, who stared at Joanna's reddened fingertips, his expression instantly hardening. "Miranda, apologize!"

Chapter 3

Miranda snapped, "Why should I apologize? Dorian, can't you see she's insulting me?"

She stood in the center of the lobby, her voice trembling with anger. Just moments ago, the sharp edge of the tube had cut her palm, and blood dripped from her fingertips.

But Dorian, who had always worried even when she sneezed, completely ignored it. Now, his eyes were fixed only on Joanna, who was clearly faking her tears.

For the first time in their three-year marriage, he regarded Miranda with a cold, unreadable expression.

"Joanna just speaks her mind, and she's telling the truth," he said.

"Miranda, you used to be so pure and kind. How did you become like this after having a child? Yelling in public, causing a scene…" He frowned, as if he could no longer tolerate it, and finally spat out, "Like a shrew!"

Dorian's words were like a dagger to Miranda's heart, burrowing its way through her and shattering all the trust and reliance she had placed in him.

Joanna smiled triumphantly, linking her arm with Dorian's as she strode away, full of pride.

Before they were out of earshot, Joanna laughed loudly, her voice carrying across the lobby. "Dorian, you're amazing for backing me up… I almost got bullied by your ugly wife."

"You little troublemaker. I take it Miranda's allergic to that cream?"

"How did you find out? I don't care. You only used 11 condoms! Remember the bet? If you lose, I can mess with Miranda however I want."

"Fine, I lost the bet. I'll take it."

Miranda's face went pale. Amid the laughter and whispers around her, she stumbled home. That night, she came down with a high fever.

As she was suffering from a fever and barely conscious, Miranda heard the housekeeper, Eleanor Gill, calling Dorian. "Mr. Cannon, Mrs. Cannon has a high fever. Her temperature just hit 104 degrees."

His voice came through the line hoarse and breathless, dripping with impatience. "Give her some antipyretics! Don't bother me with such trivial matters."

Then, the call was abruptly ended.

"Sorry, I'm just in the way of your little fun with Joanna," Miranda thought bitterly. She tugged at the corner of her mouth, realizing her tears had already dried up.

She suddenly remembered that during her attempts to conceive, she had once had a mild fever. Dorian had somehow heard that antipyretics could harm the body, so he became so worried that he wouldn't let her take any.

In the middle of winter, he soaked himself in ice-cold water and then climbed into her bed to cool her down with his own body. He stayed like that for an entire day and night until her fever finally broke—only to fall sick himself afterward.

Dorian, who had once cared for her so deeply that he had risked his own health for her, had completely changed.

Miranda had been burning with fever for three days. On the morning of the third day, she opened her eyes groggily to find Dorian sitting at the edge of the bed, slowly massaging her body.

He had once learned massage just for her, his technique gentle and professional. Under his careful hands, her aches and pains eased considerably.

For a moment, she felt disoriented, as if the cold, indifferent behavior he had shown over the past two days had never existed. Dorian was still the saintly, impossibly devoted husband she had once known.

But the instant the cooling cream touched her skin, the icy sensation made her shiver.

"Awake? Joanna specifically found this stretch mark cream. If you don't use it, she'll be upset."

His lips curved into a smile, his fingers coated with the cream as he carefully applied it to the stretch marks on her body. But the disgust lurking in his eyes jolted Miranda awake.

"Take it away! Dorian, this cream will make my allergies flare, and you know it!" She struggled to push him away, but her weakened body could not resist his strength.

"Don't be so delicate. It's not pleasant, but it's good for you. A few minor side effects are nothing. You'll get through it."

Dorian smeared the cream over her entire body before finally letting go, then helped her up from the bed. "Change into your dress. We're going to Joanna's celebration party. Hurry up—don't keep her waiting."

Miranda felt limp and weak. Her earlier struggles had only made her fever worse, and her vision blurred into darkness.

"I'm not going. I'm sick," she said weakly.

But upon hearing her words, Dorian simply replied, "You're right. Wear a mask so you don't infect Joanna."

He then went into the bathroom and washed his hands repeatedly. The sound of rushing water seemed to crash against Miranda's heart, pulling a bitter, self-mocking smile to her lips. She didn't even know which hurt more—the cold disdain in Dorian's eyes or the way he indulged Joanna.

Her body felt numb and weak, her chest tight with pain. Like a helpless, unaware puppet, she let Eleanor force her into a new outfit and usher her into the car.

Moments later, they arrived at the venue. She had barely stepped out of the car when Joanna's mocking laughter reached her ears. "Well, Mrs. Cannon, this dress fits you just perfectly, doesn't it?"

Chapter 4

Miranda finally realized she was wearing a pale rose, body-hugging cocktail dress. The cinched design emphasized the gentle roundness of her waist and abdomen, which had not fully recovered after childbirth, and her bare arms and thighs were streaked with pale pink stretch marks.

Because Dorian had applied a stretch mark cream she was allergic to, the marks were darkening and swelling, and the itching tore through her painfully. She could only force herself not to scratch, careful not to draw attention.

The hushed whispers around her felt almost tangible, slipping into her ears and gnawing at her nerves.

"God, that's Mrs. Cannon? She looks… awful."

"Unbelievable. I heard pregnancy can make some women completely scatterbrained, and she's so out of it she can't even pick out a dress. If I were Mr. Cannon, I wouldn't want to be with her either. She can't compare to Joanna at all."

"Of course she can't. Mr. Cannon spoils Joanna like crazy. He poured a billion dollars into helping her secure deals worth only a few hundred million dollars, just so she could be promoted to vice CEO, and he even threw her a celebration dinner after the losses!"

Miranda tugged at the ill-fitting dress while standing among the guests and reporters, nearly crushed by shame.

She wanted to leave, but Dorian gripped her arm tightly. "Don't make a scene. Today is Joanna's big night. She specially invited you and even picked this dress for you. I won't tolerate you acting out."

"Let go! Dorian, she did this on purpose to humiliate me…"

But no matter what she said, Dorian refused to release her. She didn't want to make a scene, so she let him lead her along as Joanna's backdrop.

During the banquet, Dorian presented Joanna with three grand gifts. The first was 11% of Cannon Group's shares, conveniently 1% more than the 10% he had given Miranda as a wedding gift.

The second was a top-tier jewelry set worth three million dollars from a major auction in Zuinson. Miranda had posted a picture of it on Instagram just days earlier, saying she loved it.

The final gift was a promise.

"I promise that from this day forward, within Cannon Group, Joanna and I will advance side by side and share every honor that comes with it."

He gazed at her with deep, devoted affection. "From now on, your word is my word. Every employee at Cannon Group will follow your directives. Happy?"

Joanna gasped in delighted surprise, then feigned hesitation. "That's too much… Miranda's going to be upset."

But Dorian said, "It's fine. She handles the house, and you handle the company. It doesn't conflict."

Miranda thought, "No conflict? What a joke."

His blatant display of being involved with another woman while married made the guests and reporters exchange knowing glances. Their eyes shifted back to Miranda, dripping with ridicule.

Even though each of them managed their own domain, running a small household could never compare to the vast empire of Cannon Group. Where Dorian's heart lay was painfully clear.

Miranda stood there, her face deathly pale, enduring the piercing stares as if they were torture. She kept her eyes lowered and said nothing. Behind her back, her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that they left bloody crescents.

Halfway through the banquet, Dorian escorted Joanna around to greet guests, while Miranda slipped away to a private lounge on the second floor to rest.

Her rising fever and the relentless itching over her entire body left her utterly exhausted, and the moment she sank onto the couch, she nearly slipped into unconsciousness. Half-asleep, she thought she heard Dorian's voice, still as gentle and attentive as ever, wiping her forehead with a cool towel.

"Why are you so sick? It really worries me."

Having been cared for by him for years, Miranda instinctively leaned closer, but the next moment, she heard another voice break the moment. "Dorian, you really spoil her. I'm jealous."

Dorian replied, "Don't be jealous… Take me instead."

"Oh, stop it. Your wife is right next to you!"

"It's fine. I checked earlier. She's sleeping soundly…"

Before long, the rustle of fabric and Joanna's soft moans filled Miranda's ears. She felt trapped in a nightmare, desperately trying to open her eyes and scream, but she couldn't wake up.

The torment lasted long enough that her body broke out in a cold sweat, nearly causing her to pass out, before Dorian finally reached satisfaction. He lifted Miranda into his arms, his voice light and casual. "Randa, let's go home."

She thought, "Yes, I'm going home! But it's not going to be your home, Dorian!"

Leaning against the familiar embrace, she caught a cloying, sweet scent—the same cheap perfume Joanna wore. Her stomach churned violently, nearly making her gag, and she struggled to whisper, "Dorian, I want to go back to the Doyle residence!"

Dorian's footsteps froze immediately.

Chapter 5

The Doyle family had been a prestigious household in Truestin for generations, with wealth comparable to the Cannon family.

Miranda had initially come to Nasledo only to study, but after marrying Dorian, her father, Albion Doyle, moved the Doyle family there. Yet even after moving, Albion barely saw Miranda more than once a year.

Whenever Miranda mentioned visiting her family, Dorian would get anxious, fuss over every little thing, and refuse to let her go. Later, Albion worked closely with the Cannon Group, taking on numerous projects just to see Miranda more often.

This was also why Miranda didn't want to confront Dorian immediately—she needed to return home first and let Albion sort out their company's dealings with the Cannon Group to avoid any losses.

When Dorian heard that Miranda intended to return to the Doyle residence, his brow furrowed, and his steps quickened.

"Randa, you're still sick. I can't bear to let you go back—who there could take care of you properly? And Emerson can't be without you…"

"I'll take Emerson with me. Mom will take care of us," Miranda replied calmly. As they stepped out into the lobby, the cold wind hit, sharpening Miranda's mind.

Dorian's expression darkened further, his grip on her tightening as he quickened his pace.

Joanna trailed behind, calling for him, but he didn't look back. Her expression twisted for a moment. Then, gritting her teeth, she dashed into the busy street.

A scream kept Dorian frozen in place. He spun around and saw Joanna kneeling in the middle of the road, a motorcycle speeding straight toward her.

In an instant, he dropped Miranda and dashed toward Joanna, scooping her into his arms to shield her.

Joanna was completely unharmed, leaning against Dorian as she whimpered, "Why are you still protecting me? Let me get hit, and Mrs. Cannon would finally calm down…"

Dorian's heart ached. "It's my fault. I won't let it happen again."

The two of them gazed at each other with deep affection, utterly unaware that Miranda, who was thrown violently aside, had hit the sharp edge of a roadside flowerbed, her head immediately bleeding. Before she could even get up, an oncoming motorcycle suddenly swerved, striking her.

Miranda flew through the air like a ragdoll, landing and rolling across the pavement, leaving a trail of blood. Her bones were crushed, her muscles torn, and she screamed in unbearable pain.

She tried to call for help, but on her side, she saw Dorian pressing Joanna into his arms, lost in a passionate kiss. Overwhelmed by endless agony and despair, the world went black.

…

Miranda spent 24 hours in emergency care, then stayed in the ICU for three days before finally waking up. When she opened her eyes, she saw Dorian propping his head up beside her bed, dozing lightly.

His face looked weary, and a faint stubble had grown on his jaw, clearly showing he had been watching over her for a long time.

Miranda studied his features quietly, catching glimpses of the boyish Dorian she remembered—waiting for her after school at the back door, passing notes through the window during exams, and the way he got angry when others confessed to her.

These memories had accompanied her throughout her youth and were among her most precious and beautiful moments. But now, those memories twisted and faded, and Dorian's face seemed terrifying to her.

Her whimper woke him instantly, and he panicked. "Randa, don't cry! Where does it hurt? I'll call the doctor."

It was only after the doctor confirmed she was unharmed that he relaxed, holding her hand and sighing. "Don't ever mention going back to the Doyle residence again. Look at the chaos it caused."

Miranda's heart, which had just begun to warm, went cold again. "What are you talking about? Am I in this state because I insisted on going home? Wasn't it Joanna causing trouble that got me hit?"

Mentioning Joanna seemed to strike a nerve in Dorian. His face darkened instantly.

"Why bring Joanna into this? It's her big day, and after such an unfortunate incident, she's already been through enough… You don't get to throw a fit!"

"Unfortunate? I almost got run over… Is that 'unfortunate'? Dorian, do you even have a heart?"

Miranda was both furious and humiliated, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

But this time, Dorian felt no sympathy, only irritation. "Crying over every little thing. Joanna didn't even shed a tear, and she was telling me to take good care of you… Can't you take a page from my book?

"I'll have Cannon Group draft a public statement, apologizing on your behalf to her, and we'll call it over…"

Miranda could hardly believe that Dorian actually expected her to apologize to the woman who stole her husband and nearly got her killed. Her vision blurred with anger, and her vital signs on the hospital monitor shot up dangerously—but Dorian didn't notice.

He heard a familiar ringtone and stepped out of the hospital room with a smile.

"Joanna, your ankle hurts? Okay, I'll come over and rub it for you…"

He walked away with the phone, leaving Miranda alone. It wasn't until half an hour later that a nurse on rounds discovered her critical condition and rushed her back into emergency care.

This time, no one was by her side.