Chapter 2

Simon backed away toward the door, acting like he couldn't care less.

It was as if just stepping into this shabby house was already him doing them a huge favor.

He checked me out, then suddenly smiled. "You mean, why did I keep it from you?"

Simon tilted his head and drawled, "No real reason. I just feel like you love me the most when you're pinching pennies for my sake.

"If you had money, you'd go back to being the princess you used to be, and you'd stop fussing over me.

"Vivian's different. She didn't have your kind of background, so she treats me like I'm her whole world."

In that instant, my blood ran cold, and I could barely get a word out.

Suddenly, it started pouring outside, and the water dripping from the ceiling kept getting worse.

The phantom pain in my amputated leg flared up again.

I gripped the stump of my leg tightly. After all these years, I'd gotten pretty good at dealing with the pain.

At that moment, as Simon's chilling words pierced my soul, the pain in my leg seemed to burrow into my bones alongside them, each one shaking me to my core.

The cheap, shoddy prosthetic tore at my stump, leaving the flesh bloody and ragged.

I stared at the blood in my palm, and for a moment, it was as if hallucinations flickered before my eyes.

It felt like I was right back on that night three years ago.

I'd gone out at two in the morning to deliver food, all for a ten-dollar commission.

But on my way home, a big truck ran over my leg, shattering it.

When the doctor announced I had to lose my leg, Simon and Vivian clung to me, their arms wrapped around my blood-soaked body.

They sobbed like little children. "Amy, you'll never be able to dance again," Simon said.

Yeah, I was ranked first in the country when I got into the dance academy, but now, dancing was forever out of reach.

And Simon, already successful, still kept things from me.

He watched with icy indifference as I struggled in poverty for his sake, even when the price was losing part of my leg.

My best friend, Vivian, cried for me like her heart was breaking.

But outside my hospital room, she was brazenly having an affair with my husband, without a care in the world.

Afterward, lips swollen from all the kissing, she strutted in, half showing off, half trying to placate me. "I said I wanted to stay here with you, but that clingy mutt wouldn't leave me alone."

And I was such an idiot back then, totally blind to the way they kept shooting each other looks, flirting right under my nose.

Lost in my memories, I absentmindedly picked at the scab on my leg, not even realizing I'd made it bleed.

Simon sighed, picked me up, and carried me into the elevator.

The elevator rose directly to the top floor. It felt like we'd entered a whole new world.

The living room was spacious and full of light, and the balcony overflowed with the fragrance of flowers.

Every detail was exquisite, with state-of-the-art smart home technology everywhere.

It was everything I'd ever dreamed of in a home.

Simon set me down on the bed and casually remarked, "I bought this place for Vivian to crash after shopping sprees. She hardly ever comes here."

"You can stay here for now," he added.

The next moment, the ringtone sounded, and Simon strode quickly to the balcony.

I stared hard at his back, my mind instinctively racing with calculations.

Same place. He had me living in a 500-dollar basement.

But he gave Vivian a three-million-dollar penthouse as her personal lounge.

I was scraping by at rock bottom, counting every penny, barely hanging on.

Meanwhile, Simon and Vivian were up in the penthouse, enjoying the good life, including flowers, wine, and not a care in the world.

Simon was smoking a cigar, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, his gaze soft with affection as he looked at the person on his phone screen.

I tried to get up, but I stumbled and fell, clumsily scrambling to my feet.

He paused for a moment, pretending not to notice. He kept smiling, answering her pointless questions on the screen.

Ten minutes later, after saying "goodbye" five times, Simon reluctantly hung up and walked back in.

He noticed I'd gotten the floor dirty and frowned with a look of distaste. "Vivian's got a thing about cleanliness," he said.

But when Simon caught sight of my bloody, mangled stump, he couldn't bear to look and turned his gaze away.

"Never mind, I'll have the housekeeper clean it up later," he said this as he hoisted me up.

After he finished, Simon glanced down at his blood-stained coat, shrugged it off, and tossed it straight into the trash.

My eyes followed the coat as it landed in the trash.

It was an Italian hand-tailored suit and started at 30 thousand dollars.

I frowned. 30 thousand dollars. How many years could that cover our living expenses?

Simon noticed the disappointment in my eyes and smirked with contempt. He said, "Amy, don't blame me for hiding things from you.

"Looking at you now, you really don't belong by my side anymore.

"You know as well as I do, people in my world would never accept a wife who works as a foot masseuse."

I smiled, asking quietly, "So you expect me, the wife you keep hidden away, to serve the mistress you've got on the side?"

Simon's face shifted, his tone suddenly turning grave. "Amy, she's pregnant."

My eyes dropped, my voice barely a whisper, "Pregnant? I was pregnant once, too."