Chapter 3

The wind howled through the valley.

August froze for a moment before his face turned livid. "Gemma, can you come up with a new trick for once? Every time something happens, you threaten me with divorce. Do you think it's funny?"

He was convinced I was just throwing a tantrum.

After all, over the past three years, I'd stepped away from my career for him and devoted myself to taking care of our home.

In his eyes, I'd become nothing more than a dependent who'd lost the ability to survive on her own.

Jolie tugged at August's sleeve at just the right moment. "August, I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts."

His attention immediately shifted to her. He crouched down and anxiously examined her ankle. "How could you be so careless? It's all red."

Without hesitation, he scooped her onto his back.

Then he turned and shot me a cold glance. "I'm taking Jolie down the mountain to the hospital. Since you're so determined to demand a divorce, prove it. Get down on your own."

Carrying Jolie on his back, he left along the safe trail without looking back.

I stood where I was, expressionless, watching their figures disappear into the rain and mist.

I felt no anger or grievance, only the relief of finally reaching the end of something that had been over for a long time.

I took out my phone and opened an app I'd kept hidden for three years.

After entering my password, I logged into the highest-level internal network for cultural relic restoration specialists.

Three years ago, I'd been the youngest Level 3 restoration specialist in the field. I'd resigned to take care of my family.

Now, my account was active again.

Less than a minute later, Graham Sterling, the director of the prestigious Crownwell Restoration Institute personally initiated a video call.

"Gemma, you've finally decided to come back. I've kept that special recruitment agreement open for you for three years."

I looked at Graham's excited face on the screen and smiled faintly. "I'll sign it."

My fingers moved quickly across the screen, and my electronic signature appeared.

Then I opened a ticketing app and bought a first-class seat on the earliest available high-speed train home.

If I was leaving, I was leaving for good.

Two hours later, I sat in the waiting room at Fairmont Central Station.

My phone began vibrating incessantly. It was the alumni group chat that August and I shared with our former classmates.

Someone had posted a photo from a housewarming party for Jolie.

In the picture, Jolie stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, holding a bouquet of flowers. Behind her was a luxurious apartment worth tens of millions, with an unobstructed view of the river.

The classmate who posted it added a caption:

"Jolie really is blessed! She just got back from overseas, and August has already arranged a multimillion-dollar luxury apartment for her in Eastwood Heights. Now that's what I call a grand gesture!"

The group chat exploded.

"Holy crap, August doesn't mess around. He just gives away a multimillion-dollar mansion like it's nothing."

"Is this for his wife? Wait, isn't his wife Gemma Lewis?"

"Did you post this in the wrong group? Delete it, quick!"

I stared at the photo, my gaze turning ice-cold.

I immediately opened my banking app and checked the joint account August and I shared.

That account held the ten million dollars I'd set aside to relaunch my restoration studio. It was my personal property.

The balance read $0.00.

The transfer records clearly showed that three days earlier, August had moved the money in multiple transactions into an overseas account. It was the same pool of funds he'd used to buy Jolie's luxury apartment.

I let out a cold laugh.

I combined screenshots of the transfer records and the property deed into a single image.

Then I sent it to the alumni group chat and tagged August.

"[August, you used my money to buy your childhood sweetheart a multimillion-dollar mansion. You're quite the shameless freeloader, aren't you?]"

The moment the message went through, the entire group fell into deathly silence.

Less than ten seconds later, hurried footsteps sounded at the entrance to the waiting room.

August came charging in, drenched in sweat. He spotted me sitting in a corner immediately. "Gemma, have you lost your mind? Who told you to post that stuff in the group? Delete it right now!"

He rushed over and reached for my phone.

I twisted aside and avoided his grasp. "What? You can do it, but you can't own up to it?"

August's eyes reddened with fury. "I was only borrowing the money temporarily. I'll replace it as soon as the project payments come in. Did you really have to humiliate me in front of everyone?"

As we struggled over the phone, he shoved me hard.

I was already weak, and I staggered. My back slammed into the nearby public hot-water dispenser.

The heavy impact snapped the dispenser's valve. Scalding boiling water cascaded down over my head and back.

I curled up on the floor in agony.

My back had already been ravaged by the allergic reaction and exposure to the cold. The boiling water instantly stripped away a layer of skin.

Blood mingled with blisters, and my clothes stuck fast to the raw, open wounds. The searing pain nearly made me lose consciousness.

August froze. He reached out as if to examine my injuries.

Just then, his phone rang. It was a voice message from Jolie.

"August, I'm in so much pain. I've taken sleeping pills. Don't worry about me anymore. Just let me die."

August's face instantly turned deathly pale. He glanced at me, writhing and crying out in pain in the puddle of water, then gritted his teeth.

He kicked a suitcase out of his way. "Gemma, you'd better pray Jolie is okay. If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive you."

Then he turned and sprinted away.