Chapter 6

Wendy jerked her head up and stared at him in disbelief.

“Felix Foster, what did you just say? Why?!”

Felix met her shocked, anguished gaze, his eyes cold and utterly devoid of warmth.

“Why? Don't you already know?

“Apparently, what happened with the skin graft wasn't enough to teach you a lesson. Instead, you've only gotten worse! You actually had the nerve to bribe someone working at the party to poison Grace's drink! I've already questioned the person you paid. The evidence is conclusive.”

He turned to the officers and nodded.

“Take her away. Handle this according to the law. The Foster family will never protect anyone who commits a crime.”

“Felix Foster, you bastard!”

Wendy trembled with fury, her voice rising sharply.

“What gives you the right to assume I did it?! You're going to condemn me just because some random person pointed a finger at me?! Do you even remember that I'm your wife?!”

Overwhelmed by anger and humiliation, she lost control.

She shoved aside the officer approaching with handcuffs and bolted out of the villa.

She jumped into her sports car parked outside and floored the accelerator.

The car shot forward like a bullet.

“Wendy! Stop!”

Felix's expression darkened.

He immediately got into his own car and sped after her.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he called her.

For once, his usually controlled voice was strained with anger.

“Wendy Walker! Are you trying to get yourself killed driving that fast?! Pull over! Now!”

“Pull over? So you can have me thrown in prison?! Felix Foster, listen to me! I'd rather die than let you lock me up for something I didn't do!”

“These aren't false accusations! We have witnesses and physical evidence!”

“What witnesses? What evidence?! Grace set me up! Felix, what have I ever done to deserve this? Why do you keep humiliating me and accusing me of things I never did?”

Her desperate sobs filled his ears, mingling with the frantic roar of her engine.

Felix's brows drew together, his expression growing terrifyingly dark.

He said nothing more.

Instead, he slammed his foot on the accelerator.

Then, seizing his chance, he swerved hard, ramming the front of his car into the side of Wendy's sports car.

Crash!

The impact was deafening.

Wendy's car spun out of control and slammed into the guardrail.

The front end crumpled instantly.

Her forehead struck the steering wheel with tremendous force.

Warm blood streamed down her face, blurring her vision.

Felix quickly got out of his car and strode toward hers.

He yanked the door open.

When he saw Wendy sitting there, her face covered in blood and her consciousness already fading, something tightened almost imperceptibly in his chest.

But his expression remained unchanged.

He didn't even check her injuries.

Instead, he turned to the officers who had caught up with them.

“Here she is. Take her away.”

Wendy was dragged out of the wrecked car.

Blood trickled from her forehead, ran down her cheeks, and dripped onto her coat, leaving vivid crimson stains across the fabric.

She stared at Felix's cold profile.

Watched him hand her over to the police without a moment's hesitation.

And whatever love she'd had left for him finally died.

Wendy was taken straight to a detention center.

The place was dark and damp, the air thick with the unpleasant mixture of mildew and disinfectant.

That very evening, she received an unexpected visitor.

Grace.

Standing on the other side of the metal bars, Grace looked at Wendy's battered, disheveled appearance with undisguised satisfaction and malice.

“Well, Wendy, how do you like it here?”

She smiled sweetly.

“I've made a few arrangements to ensure every single day you spend here will be... unforgettable.”

She gave the guard a signal.

Moments later, several hardened female inmates were let inside.

They surrounded Wendy, their expressions openly threatening.

“Take good care of our dear Mrs. Foster,” Grace instructed with a soft laugh.

A twisted delight gleamed in her eyes.

“I just love seeing a spoiled little heiress like you dragged down into the dirt. It's the only way I can truly feel like I've finally beaten you.”

With that, she turned and walked away gracefully without another glance.

What followed was a week of living hell.

The women kicked her, punched her, cursed at her, and pulled at her wounds.

They were vicious, deliberately targeting her injuries and the vulnerable parts of her body where the bruises wouldn't show.

Wendy curled up in a cold corner, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached.

She refused to beg.

The wounds on her back, which had only just begun to heal, split open again.

The skin graft donor site on her arm was scratched until it was raw and bleeding.

Pain.

Cold.

Despair.

They consumed her day and night.

She had no idea how she survived.

An entire week passed.

By the time she was barely conscious and close to death, the detention center door finally opened.

Felix stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light.

He looked as immaculate and composed as ever, his tall figure completely out of place in the filthy, gloomy surroundings.

He stared at the woman who'd once been so bold and defiant.

Now her eyes were empty, her expression numb.

His brows drew together almost imperceptibly.

But a moment later, his face returned to its usual calm.

“Come on out.”

His voice was indifferent.

“I hope you've learned your lesson this time. From now on, behave yourself and stop causing trouble.”

Behave herself? Stop causing trouble?

Wendy listened to him.

But the barren wasteland that her heart had become was so cold and lifeless that his words couldn't stir even the faintest emotion.

She forced her aching body upright.

Felix reached out to help her, but she walked past his outstretched hand.

Then, stumbling with every step, she slowly made her way outside.