Chapter 1

After my husband, James Sterling, ditched me for his childhood sweetheart, Emily Young, for the nineteenth time, I got hit with the system's final punishment. It erased my love for him.

James thought I was just putting on an act. Trying to make me beg for forgiveness, he made out with Emily right in front of me. He posted all kinds of sweet couple pics to his Story and set them so only I could see them. When I still showed no reaction, he tossed a divorce agreement at me.

He was sure I would cave in. But what he didn't know was that I didn't love him anymore.

When I finally signed the divorce papers, he was the one who panicked—crying and begging me to love him again.

*****

The room was pitch dark, lit only by a few flickering candles. The frosting on the cake sitting on the dining table had long since collapsed.

A mechanical voice sounded in my head. "Host, this is your last chance. If you still can't call James back, you'll face the punishment."

"Okay," I replied quietly. But inside, my chest still ached.

This was the nineteenth time James had ditched me for Emily. Today was my birthday, yet halfway through the evening he rushed off because Emily called him.

I had no idea what kind of punishment was coming, but judging from what I'd been through before, it definitely wouldn't be pleasant.

The first time James left me for Emily, the punishment had felt like high-voltage electricity ripping through my body. I was in so much pain I couldn't get out of bed for three days.

After that, each punishment grew worse. By the ninth time, I had been coughing up blood nonstop.

I was honestly terrified. So I picked up my phone and called James. First call, second call, and no answer. It wasn't until the eighth call that he finally picked up.

James answered, sounding annoyed.

"James... could you wish me a happy birthday?" My throat tightened as I spoke, the words sounding almost like a plea. All he had to do was say "happy birthday," and I could avoid the punishment. At least I wouldn't lose quite so badly.

But instead of saying it, James sneered, "Olivia, are you for real? Emily's sick, I'm here taking care of her, and you're playing the victim for what? Don't make me lose what little respect I have left for you."

I let out a bitter laugh, my voice calmer than ever before. Every time Emily whisked James away, my pleas for him to come back were met with the same old accusations that I was making a mountain out of a molehill or just crying wolf. I was bone-tired of explaining myself.

"What if I told you I would die?" I asked.

In truth, I knew how this would end. I'd likely die, or perhaps... just fade out of this world entirely. Wasn't that the standard exit for every "host" in these stories who failed their mission? I was genuinely terrified.

I thought if James heard I might die, he'd at least get worried—maybe even say something caring. Just one word from him would make all those years of loving and giving feel like they meant something.

Instead, James spat back with pure disgust. "Always with the theatrics. It's just a damn birthday. Can't you celebrate it next year? If you're so hell-bent on dying, go do it somewhere far away. I might actually respect you for it."

Before I could get a word in, a woman's voice drifted through the line. "James, I'm out of the shower. Your turn."

The line went dead immediately. I stared into the silence, lost in thought. James was never one to shower away from home. Maybe Emily said it just to mess with me, but the fact remained that she was the exception to every rule he had.

"Host, time's up. Punishment starts now."

The clock in the living room struck midnight. My birthday was over, and with it, my mission had officially ended in total failure.

When the system's voice rang out, it actually sounded almost gentle.

I had been with James for five years, and for five years, I had been working to make him fall for me.

I was a transmigrator into a novel to conquer missions. I thought marrying James would mean my mission was complete. I never even wanted to go back to the real world; back there, I was an orphan with a terminal cancer diagnosis and no way to pay the bills. In the end, I jumped off a building to escape it all.

In this world, at least I had a family to call my own.

But James never cared about me. Whenever Emily needed him—even if I was sick, even if I was hospitalized—I couldn't pull him back to my side. Even an iceberg could be warmed, but James never even looked my way.

And yet, even then, I found it so hard to let go.

As the punishment began, I felt something being ripped from deep inside me. My memories started playing in my head like a flicker show.

I saw James laughing; I saw him playing in the sunlight; I saw myself holding his hand, reciting our wedding vows in front of a sea of guests. Those flashes of warmth and tenderness were so vivid they brought me to tears before I even realized. Then, a wave of gut-wrenching pain washed over me, and everything went black.

When I finally came to, my throat was dry. I stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water, only to run right into James. He looked exhausted. Standing right behind him was Emily, wearing a smug grin.

For some reason, even though I knew James was my husband, he felt like a total stranger to me now.

James sneered when he saw me. "Weren't you throwing a tantrum about dying last night? Yet here you are, perfectly fine. Honestly, your all bark and no bite act is getting pathetic."

I stared at him, confused. His words were cutting, and they made my chest tighten instinctively. I couldn't remember why I had married such a bitter, small-minded man. I froze mid-sip, my mind a complete blank.

James brought Emily in, and they made themselves comfortable. Emily acted all apologetic. "I'm so sorry to drop in on you this late, Olivia," she cooed. "It's just that I'm not feeling well, and James was worried about me, so he brought me back. You don't mind, do you?"