Chapter 2

When she returned upstairs, Ophelia began packing her things.

After five years, she was stunned to realize how little in this enormous mansion actually belonged to her. Most of what filled the house was not hers at all.

They were things she had bought for Rowan—his favorite clothes, the watches he liked, the elaborate handcrafted ornaments he used to admire.

She had once used those gifts to please him, to keep him happy, and to keep him from cheating.

Now, she went through them one by one and threw every last thing into the trash.

By the time she finished, the sweet, coquettish voice drifting up from downstairs had gradually faded. It was replaced by a woman’s sobs and the heavy footsteps of several people.

The next second, her bedroom door was kicked open. Ophelia’s pupils contracted.

It was the Hart family!

Before she could even ask why they were here, a vicious slap came whistling through the air.

The blow left her dizzy. She crashed to the floor, only to be grabbed and dragged down the stairs.

Downstairs, Rowan was still quietly soothing Lydia. When he saw Ophelia being dragged down the stairs like a dead dog, his hand paused for a moment.

The Hart family butler’s face was dark with fury. His voice thundered through the room.

“I thought six months of punishment had finally taught you to obey. But I never expected you’d still dare to break the rules! Ophelia, do you really think the Hart family’s rules are beneath your notice?!”

In his hand was a wooden ruler studded with nails. The moment Ophelia saw it, every punishment she had endured came rushing back. The wounds across her back seemed to ache all over again.

Fear flooded her. She immediately dropped to her knees, forcing herself to stay calm. However, the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Mr. Hart, I didn’t. Ever since I left the ancestral hall, I haven’t broken a single Hart family rule…”

Before she could finish, Rowan cut her off. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, his expression shifting between light and shadow.

“See for yourself. Is there anything you’d like to say?”

He tossed a phone onto the floor in front of her.

A trending headline was displayed across the screen. It was a photo of Rowan and Lydia kissing passionately in the living room just moments ago. Rowan’s face had been blurred, but not Lydia’s.

“There were only three of us in this house. If you didn't post it, then who did? A ghost?” Rowan said with a faint, mocking smile.

Ophelia looked at the provocation in Lydia’s eyes. She understood immediately. Her fingertips curled into her palms until they turned white.

She knew that no matter what she said now, Rowan would not believe her. Even so, she still wanted to defend herself one last time.

“I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t do this. I didn’t post it.”

She was stubborn as ever, just like before, and it disgusted him.

After all this time, she still had not learned a thing.

“Do you take me for an idiot? Even your excuse is pathetic.” Rowan rubbed his temples, clearly losing patience. “I gave you a chance to explain, and you wasted it. If that’s how you want to play this, then there’s nothing left to discuss.”

Then he impatiently tapped his fingers against the table. The meaning was obvious.

The Hart family's steward understood immediately. His eyes turned cold. The ruler came crashing down.

“Family rule number one, a wife must always put her husband’s comfort first. Ophelia has violated the rule. She must be punished!”

The nails tore into Ophelia’s flesh. A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through her, forcing a muffled groan from her lips.

“Family rule number 38, a wife must never be jealous or talk back. Ophelia has violated the rule. She must be punished!”

Another blow came, and Ophelia broke into a cold sweat from the pain. Her entire body trembled as blood quickly soaked her back.

“Family rule number 375…”

“Family rule number 1,245…”

“Family rule number 3,535…”

One blow came after another. Ophelia lost count of how many times the ruler came down. Her face had gone deathly pale. Her vision blurred until everything around her became a haze of overlapping shadows.

Five years ago, Rowan looked at her with that warm smile. He held her beneath the pouring rain, swearing to the heavens that he would love only Ophelia for the rest of his life.

Those memories flashed through her mind one after another. Just before her consciousness finally slipped away, one image became painfully clear. Rowan was teasing Lydia in his arms while looking down at Ophelia with cold indifference as she was beaten.

This was her husband, the man she had loved with all her heart for five years…