Chapter 3

Ophelia was taken back to the Hart residence to be punished because she had broken the rules again. Whenever she passed out from the pain, they splashed cold water over her to wake her. Then they continued.

She kept falling into a daze, over and over.

The punishment finally came to an end at dawn, when Rowan arrived to see her.

“Take me to the hospital.”

Ophelia’s face was deathly pale, and her body swayed unsteadily. She was covered in wounds. Her clothes were torn to shreds from the beating, blood still seeping through the fabric.

“Fine, but before you go to the hospital, you need to deal with the consequences you brought upon yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Ophelia stared at Rowan’s tall figure. A terrible feeling rose in her chest.

The next moment, a few bodyguards dressed in black walked in, eyeing her menacingly.

Ophelia’s eyes trembled. An utterly horrifying thought slowly took shape in her mind.

Rowan lit a cigarette and spoke nonchalantly.

“The photos have been all over the internet for too long. Lydia doesn’t even dare to show her face in public anymore. The only way to bury the photos is to give the public something even more explosive to talk about.

“This mess started because of you, so you’re going to clean it up. I don’t care how you do it.”

He paused for a moment, then continued, “Besides, you still have me to fall back on. No matter what happens, you’ll never have to worry about food or a roof over your head for the rest of your life. Lydia is different. She only has herself.”

What did any of that have to do with her? Lydia was in trouble, so he was going to sacrifice her instead?

Ophelia finally snapped. She struggled wildly and screamed, “I told you! I didn’t post those photos! Rowan, you can’t do this to me!”

She had been beaten all night. Her body was already too weak to fight back.

The bodyguards swarmed her. Her torn clothing was ripped away, leaving her exposed before everyone in the room.

Tears silently rolled down her cheeks. She slowly closed her eyes.

She had loved this cold, heartless man for five years. She endured countless beatings and punishments for him. In the end, this was where her love had brought her.

How ridiculous!

Ophelia no longer remembered how she was taken to the hospital.

When she opened her eyes again, all she saw was the stark white ceiling above her and the sharp smell of disinfectant.

“You’re awake? Drink some water. Your lips are all cracked.”

Rowan had a cigarette between his lips. His voice sounded as lazy as ever.

Ophelia lowered her eyes and took the bottle of water he tossed toward her. She opened it and took a few sips.

Rowan studied her face for a moment, then suddenly said, “Ophelia, you’re so fragile, and your mental fortitude is even worse. Why do you keep doing things behind people’s backs just to make them miserable? What’s the point? In the end, you always have to pay for it.”

Ophelia’s hand stopped halfway to her lips. Her voice was hoarse. “I didn’t post those private photos.”

“Enough. Do you really think I don’t know what you’re like?” Rowan’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve already been beaten. Your clothes have already been taken off. It’s not like I’m going to eat you. You can admit it now.”

Ophelia tugged at the corner of her lips but said nothing more.

This was who she was in his eyes, a petty, shameless woman who would stoop to anything.

Just then, Rowan’s phone rang. It was Lydia. He answered almost instantly.

It was nothing like when Ophelia called him. She could call ten times and be lucky if he answered even once.

Ophelia stared silently at the floor.

“What is it? You want me to cook? Wait for me at home… Don’t move… I’ll make it for you.”

His voice was still lazy and casual, but compared to the way he spoke to her, there was so much more tenderness in it.

After hanging up, he did not even wait for Ophelia to react. He simply walked away without looking back.

The door opened, then closed.

Ophelia stared at the empty doorway. Her heart felt as though someone had stuffed a huge wad of cotton inside, leaving her chest heavy and making it difficult to breathe.

Cook? In five years of marriage, even when they had been at their happiest, Rowan had never cooked for her. He would not even play the two-player cooking game she loved with her because he could not be bothered.

Now, the pampered scion who had never lifted a finger in the kitchen was actually willing to wash his hands and cook for the woman he loved?

Five years of trying to please him and five years of lowering herself for him… None of it was worth anything.