Chapter 1

The day I walked out of prison, Caelum City was hit by a rare winter rain, icy, bone-chilling, and relentless.

Waiting for me at the gates was Nikolas Zorion, my husband of five years.

He stood beneath the lone sycamore outside the prison, a black umbrella shielding him from the downpour. His posture was ramrod straight. The rain blurred his features, but it couldn't obscure the innate distance and aristocratic grace that clung to him.

When he saw me, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over.

"Cordelia," he called my name, his voice hoarse, softer than I'd ever heard before. "Let's go home."

I didn't move. I just stood there, quietly watching him.

Three years ago, right here, it was also Nikolas who had said to me, "Cordelia, Wilhelmina didn't mean it. She has depression and can't have a criminal record. Help her this once, and I promise I'll come pick you up myself in three years."

*****

He kept his word.

Nikolas came for me himself, even reaching out as if he wanted to take my hand.

I took a step back, dodging his touch.

His hand hung awkwardly in the air, and his expression turned cold in an instant.

The heater was cranked up in the car on the way back, but no matter how warm it got, I still felt cold inside.

Nikolas's phone rested on the center console, its screen glowing. I caught a glimpse by accident, and my breath hitched.

He had already changed his pinned WhatsApp chat from a girl named Wilhelmina to me.

My WhatsApp account, which I hadn't messaged him on in three years, was pinned right at the very top of his chat list.

I almost found it funny, but before the smile could even reach my lips, a surge of nausea washed it away.

I rolled down the window, letting the icy rain and cold wind hit me right in the face. It helped me snap out of my daze, at least a little.

Did Nikolas really think three years behind bars made me stupid?

When we got back to the villa we called home, I realized the change wasn't just about the pinned WhatsApp chat on his phone.

Every trace of Wilhelmina Scott had vanished from the villa.

Once, her photos filled every corner.

Her beaming smile in the living room, her silhouette clutching a sketchpad in the study, and on our bedside table, a picture of her at seventeen in a white dress. Nikolas said that was the first time he had seen her.

I was nothing but a joke, living in the shadow of his yearning for someone else.

And now, all those photos, along with her favorite scented candles and the cups she used, had completely vanished.

In their place were my things.

The walk-in closet was filled with the latest styles for the season, each one in my exact size. On the vanity sat a full set of top-tier skincare products, the brands I always used.

Nancy Foster, the housekeeper, came out carrying a bowl of hot soup, her face breaking into a warm, motherly smile as soon as she saw me.

She said, "Mrs. Zorion, you're finally home! Mr. Zorion has been talking about you nonstop these past few days. He personally set up your room for you."

I looked at Nikolas. He was unbuttoning his suit jacket, looking a bit uneasy, as if he was waiting for me to praise him or maybe give him an emotional hug.

Just like before, whenever he showed me even a hint of kindness, I'd rush over like a puppy, eager for his attention.

But now, I just gave a flat "yeah" and headed straight upstairs.

Behind me, Nikolas's voice carried a hint of awkwardness. "Cordelia, why don't you have some soup? It'll help warm you up."

I didn't look back.

The first thing I learned in prison was never to eat food offered by others, and never to believe what people said.

Especially not Nikolas.

That night, I slept in the guest room.

In the middle of the night, the door was quietly pushed open. I snapped awake, every muscle in my body tensing up. It was a reflex carved into me by three years in prison.

Nikolas stood in the doorway, looking surprised to find me awake. He froze for a second.

"I... I just wanted to check if you kicked off your blanket," he said, coming up with a lame excuse.

I sat up in bed, switched on the bedside lamp, and stared at him, my face unreadable. "Mr. Zorion, what do you want?"

The way I called him "Mr. Zorion" made his handsome features turn cold instantly. He hated it when I called him that. It reminded him that our marriage was nothing but a transaction based on interests.

"Cordelia, we're husband and wife," he said, his voice low as he stepped closer to me.

"Husband and wife?" I laughed, like I'd just heard the biggest joke ever. "Did you forget, Mr. Zorion?

"Three years ago, you sent me to prison yourself, made me take the blame for the woman you loved. From that moment on, we were nothing to each other."

He stopped at the edge of the bed, his tall frame casting a shadow over me, enveloping me completely.

"It was an accident," he said, frowning as he tried to explain. "Wilhelmina was really struggling at the time—"

"So, I was just supposed to throw myself under the bus for her, huh?" I cut him off, my voice low, cold, and sharp as a blade straight from ice.

He fell silent.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Cordelia, I know you've suffered. I promise I'll make it up to you."

What could he possibly give me to make up for it?

Was he going to fix my three broken ribs? Bring back the baby I lost? Or erase the three years of hopelessness I spent behind bars?

I closed my eyes, refusing to look at his face, etched with guilt and that patronizing pity, like he was handing out charity.

"Get out," I spat, my voice icy.

He stood there, unmoving.

I snapped my eyes open, fixing him with a glare. "Nikolas, get the hell out!"

My stare must've been fierce, like a lone wolf on its last legs. He finally retreated, silent, and even closed the door behind him.

The moment the door closed, all my strength left me, and I fell onto the bed.

Tears rolled down my cheeks in silence, soaking the pillow.

I told myself not to cry. He was not worth it.

I was not that idiot anymore, the one who used to cry all night just because he said something mean.

My tears dried up the day I lost my child, along with all that blood.

I thought life after prison would be calm and still. I thought I only needed to wait quietly for the divorce agreement to take effect, then disappear from Nikolas's world completely.

But I forgot, so long as Wilhelmina was still in the picture, there'd never be any peace.