At three in the morning, I received a call from the anti-prostitution squad for the 199th time in my five years of marriage.
My husband had been caught againthis time with his widow sister-in-law.
When I arrived, the squad members looked embarrassed, scratching their heads.
Ms. Sandler... today's team was all new recruits. They didn't know you'd asked us not to arrest Mr. Romulo and Ms. Brown before.
I shook my head, my expression perfectly calm.
Oliver's collar was open, a red mark at his throat, and he held the crying Czarina in his arms, soothing her relentlessly.
He glanced at me with annoyance. "Last time you told them in advance, didn't you? What's the point of sending them after me and Czarina today?"
Instinctively, I touched the scars left on my fingers from when he had snapped my nails one by one after my infamous meltdown at the police station.
"Sorry... it won't happen again," I replied calmly.
Oliver blinked, then, for the first time, his expression softened and tried to explain. "Once Czarina gets pregnant to carry my brother's bloodline, I'll come home on time."
"But lately she's been... unstable, you"
I didn't even hear the rest. I stepped outside and signed the report.
The squad member gave me a knowing look. "He'll remember how good you are, eventually."
I finally forced a smile. I didn't need him to remember how good I'd been.
After all, the five-year marriage contract sealed with thirty million was about to expire anyway.

I had just gotten into my car when the rear door opened. Oliver got in with Czarina in his arms.
The mixed scent of their perfumes made my stomach turn. I rolled down the window, and through the rearview mirror, I saw him frown.
"In this freezing weather... why open the window? Czarina is fragile; she can't catch a cold."
And with that, he rolled it back up.
I said instinctively, "You're really thoughtful."
Three years ago, after a single phone call from Czarina, he had left me stranded on a six-thousand-meter mountainsnowstorm ragingand hadn't even bothered leaving me a coat. Later, when I got out of the ICU, he had sheepishly admitted he'd forgotten.
"Enough. You don't need to act all passive-aggressive. Czarina owes you nothing. If she hadn't saved my brother and me back then, you wouldn't even have a chance to marry me with the thirty million my mother gave you."
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "First, we're picking up the car and our things at the hotel. Then I'll drop Czarina home myself."
I followed the GPS directions in silence.
I didn't argue anymore about how my mother's thirty million had been tied to a promise. I didn't hint, openly or subtly, that Czarina was not as simple as she seemed.
Even I hadn't realized ithe had stopped trusting me a long time ago.
Oliver seemed uncomfortable with my silence. He tried to act affectionately, holding Czarina close, pretending.
Czarina blushed. "Lydia... I swear I don't mean to take Oliver from you. I just... when my episodes hit, I forget everything. Seeing him reminds me of my late husband."
"When I have a child, I'll stay far away from you, so you'll have time to have one of your own."
I slowly let go of the steering wheel, placing my hand on my flat belly.
Here, I had already lost three children.
Oliver looked displeased. "Why are you talking like this? Can someone as clumsy as you even take care of yourself?"
I was about to respond when the car suddenly braked sharply.
"We're here."
I rubbed my hands, still cold despite the heater, and opened the door.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him escort Czarina back to the hotel, carrying a bag full of... adult toys.
Czarina tossed her torn clothes aside, cheeks burning, casting subtle glances toward the direction my car had parked.
When they got into his supercar, I turned the wheel and drove away.


At the traffic light, Oliver unusually reached out to me.
"Later, I'll go home to get some documents. Want an egg tart for breakfast?"
So many times in the past, after leaving the police station, he would ask me if I wanted an egg tart.
The first time, I cried through it. But today... I felt sick of it.
I didn't reply. Instead, I used the last few seconds of the red light to answer my late mother-in-law's estate lawyer.
"Attorney Palmer, thank you for the reminder. I haven't forgotten my agreement with Mom. I'll be there in seven days to sign the papers on time."
The wind hit me on the way home, and by the time I arrived, I felt light-headed.
Sitting half-awake on the living room sofa, my fingers, still scarred from healing, burned like fire. The pain cut through me.
Oliver came in with two boxes of egg tarts and froze at the sight of me tracing the jagged scars on my fingers.
In the dim light of the living room, I couldn't read his expression.
"Now that you know it hurts, stop making a fuss."
A fuss?
I felt momentarily lost.
Of course, in Oliver's eyes... crying until I collapsed after discovering the man I loved with my widowed sister-in-law at mother's memorial was a fuss.