Chapter 1

At the auction, my husband's assistant accidentally shattered a Bvlgari luxury custom-made bracelet worth a million dollars. Without hesitation, he paid the compensation for her.

The assistant bragged on Ins: [Thank you boss for your generosity. I'll work even harder!] She then provocatively forwarded this post to me.

After read it, I just smiled and messaged my husband: "Heard someone broke a Bvlgari bracelet? How much did it cost?"

"Not much, just small change," he replied.

"A million dollars is small change? Then transfer $3,000,000 to me. Now."

After a long pause, he finally responded. "Don't joke around, babe."

The next second, he received a photo from me.

It showed his most precious PATEK PHILIPPE watch, smashed to pieces.

Worth exactly $3,000,000.

...

Ethan Pierce's call came through immediately.

"Victoria Reid! Do you realize there are only three of those watches in the entire world? Have you lost your mind!"

"Why are you yelling at me? I think my message was perfectly clear."

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

"You're already forty-seven seconds late. I'm currently in your car garage. You know the consequences."

Ethan hung up immediately. Within a minute, I received a notification of a three-million-dollar transfer.

Looking at my newly increased bank balance, a cold smile played on my lips.

I clicked 'Send' on my phone screen and he received another photo I'd prepared—the crushed front of his limited-edition Ferrari.

His call came through almost instantly.

"Victoria!!!"

Ethan's voice sounded like it was being squeezed through his teeth. "Do you have any idea how much money I spent to—"

"I do," I cut him off. "Three million eight hundred thousand. Air-shipped from Italy just last month."

"Does it hurt? If it hurts, remember this. I don't want there to be a next time."

Ethan was too furious to speak. He hung up without another word.

I shrugged. I knew he was angry.

But I didn't care.

Business marriages don't require emotions. If love exists, consider yourself lucky. If not, it doesn't matter.

Ethan and I met through an arranged date three years ago. We were both satisfied with each other's family background and appearance, though not madly in love. So we got married less than six months later.

On our wedding night, we politely went to our separate rooms, even saying goodnight to each other on the staircase.

For a whole year after our marriage, I didn't share a bed with Ethan. When we finally did, it was because we were both drunk.

The Pierce Family’s auction house was a century-old dynasty, sitting firmly at the top of the auction world. Their family rules were thicker than the Smithsonian's catalog.

My family was a newcomer that had risen in recent years. My father had built his fortune overseas before returning home and establishing legitimate businesses. We didn't have the Pierce family's rigid traditions; we still had something of a street edge to us.

That's why I didn't care whether Ethan truly loved me or not. Neither of us would sacrifice our interests for love.

But this time, this new junior appraiser assistant had stepped on my face with her bragging, and I wouldn't swallow my pride.

I absolutely wouldn't allow anyone to openly take what was mine. Even looking at it wasn't acceptable.

But I knew Ethan wasn't one to swallow his pride either.

Sure enough, that evening I received a message from my best friend Mia.

"Victoria, why did your husband bring someone new to tonight's event?"

I opened my phone to see a photo.

I recognized the background immediately—it was the Rhine Mansion where the Pierce Family’s auction house's Merit Hall entertained VIP clients.

Next to Ethan sat a young woman wearing an excessively elaborate dress, looking like someone who had made an extraordinary effort to dress up for her first time at such an event.

I slammed my phone face-down on the coffee table with a loud "thud." Mia's messages kept popping up:

[This girl's got nerve]

[She's actually flaunting the bracelet your husband paid for]

[Wait... wasn't that bracelet broken?]

I opened Sophia Morgan's instagram homepage and saw her recently posted photo.

She was holding Ethan's arm, smiling like a cat that got the cream under the crystal chandelier of the Baccarat.

Caption: [Thanks to Mr. Pierce for bringing me to such a high-class event~]

The most eye-catching part was the Bvlgari luxury custom-made bracelet on her wrist—the one that Ethan had supposedly paid a million dollars to replace after she "broke" it last week.

I remembered six months ago, when Ethan's previous assistant had merely leaned against him while delivering documents. She was fired the very next day.

What had Ethan said then? "Pierce Auctions doesn't need employees who don't understand boundaries."

And now, here he was, indulging a junior appraiser by posting photos together on social media, making sure the whole world knew she was wearing the "broken" million-dollar bracelet.

I called Ethan directly.

It rang seven times before going to voicemail.

"Very well."

A cold laugh escaped me as I pulled up our iMessage thread.

[Mr. Pierce takes a female appraiser to a VIP dinner. Don't you think you owe your wife an explanation?]

I messaged Mia: [Has Pierce checked his phone?]

Mia replied instantly: [He checked his phone but didn't reply. Did you confront him?]

I sent Ethan another message: [Answer me. I know you've seen my message.]

This message was also met with silence.

[I'm giving you one last chance. If I don't see your response in ten seconds, you'll face the consequences.]

Rain began tapping against the window. I walked to my study and took out a yellowed diary from the safe. I snapped a photo and sent it to Ethan.

Sure enough, Ethan replied immediately.

[VICTORIA, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!]

Chapter 2

Mia's message came through right after.

[Wow Victoria, Pierce's face just went white! What did you send him?]

I smiled and sent her a tongue-out emoji: [Just wait for the show!]

The diary belonged to Ethan's first love, Emma Davis. On the frontispiece was a line: "For sixteen-year-old Ethan, hope you like this gift."

It contained her diary entries about her crush on Ethan, which she had planned to give him when confessing her feelings.

But before she could confess, she and Ethan were kidnapped. To buy Ethan time to escape, she was tortured and killed by the kidnappers right in front of him.

This diary was the only thing she left behind, and Ethan cherished it more than his own life.

Thinking about this, I suddenly realized that assistant Sophia Morgan bore a striking resemblance to Emma.

I couldn't help but laugh. Ethan was really regressing, playing this disgusting substitute game.

[Don't touch it! We can talk this through!]

Messages came rapidly, showing how anxious Ethan was about the diary.

[Call me. Now.]

The next second, my phone rang.

"Put it on speaker," I said calmly.

From the other end came the sound of fabric rustling, then Ethan's suppressed breathing: "...I'm in a business meeting."

"I said, PUT. IT. ON. SPEAKER."

After a moment of silence, the speakerphone tone sounded. In the background, the clinking of glasses suddenly stopped, indicating the entire banquet hall had gone quiet.

"I apologize for the interruption, everyone."

My voice carried through the phone to that magnificent banquet hall. "I'm Victoria Reid, Ethan Pierce's wife."

I could imagine the scene—those well-dressed guests holding champagne flutes, looking awkwardly toward the main table.

Sophia Morgan was probably still maintaining that affected smile, though her lips would be trembling by now.

"My husband was supposed to bring me to this dinner tonight, but I never received any notification about it," I said methodically, my fingertips brushing the yellowed corners of the diary.

"Victoria, calm down. There's nothing between us, just a normal professional relationship. Don't misunderstand."

"Really? What kind of boss gives his employee a million-dollar bracelet?"

"I don't care about whatever sordid business you have going on."

"Now, Ethan Pierce, I want you to slap her. Twice. In front of everyone."

Gasps could be heard from the other end.

"Have you lost your mind?" Ethan lowered his voice.

"You can refuse," I said, opening the diary to a middle page. "I believe this page describes the first time she saw you? 'Ethan looked so handsome playing basketball. I secretly took a photo and hid it in my diary...'"

"Enough!"

Ethan's voice suddenly grew louder, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

"SLAP!"

The crisp sound of a palm striking flesh came through the speaker.

"Ah!" Sophia's scream was so shrill it made my eardrums ache.

"Continue," I said coldly.

"SLAP!!"

The second slap was harder. I even heard something fall to the floor—probably that bracelet.

There was dead silence on the other end.

I closed the diary with satisfaction. "Very good."

After hanging up, I poured myself a glass of red wine.

I remembered our wedding three years ago. When exchanging rings, Ethan's smile seemed measured to a precise angle.

When our fathers shook hands and spoke of a "power alliance," everyone present understood the unspoken message.

This marriage was never a fairy tale.

He was the perfect heir groomed by the Pierce family; I was the appraisal machine polished by the Reid family. We were like two high-end precious jewelries displayed in a showcase, labeled "perfect match."

My phone vibrated. It was a video from Mia.

In the footage, Sophia covered her face as she rushed out of the banquet hall, with an ashen-faced Ethan following behind.

The video ended with a close-up—that "priceless" bracelet, shattered even more thoroughly than before.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Through the security monitor, I saw Ethan standing at the door, his tie askew, his eyes burning with a familiar rage.

I pressed the intercom button: "Wait."

Then I turned off the display. Just let him stand in the rain a while longer.

Mia, still relishing the drama, called me.

"That was brilliant! What did you send him? Teach me! I want to learn how to keep my husband in line too!"

I laughed. "It's nothing special. When you don't care about him, you can control him."

Hearing this, Mia scoffed: "Then I definitely can't do it."

Of course she couldn't. She and her husband had been childhood sweethearts, always stuck together since school. They'd been inseparable and deeply in love for so many years.

"But after what you did to Pierce today, won't he come after you?"

"Come after me?" I laughed coldly.

"He parades around with Sophia, and I'm not the one causing trouble?"

I heard the sound of the door opening behind me and turned to see a soaking wet Ethan.

His face was grim as he demanded, "Where's my diary?"

Chapter 3

I remained silent, hung up the phone, and stared into his eyes.

He glared back, trying to stare me down, but eventually collapsed onto the sofa in defeat.

"I did what you asked... what more do you want?"

"Did I tell you to humiliate yourself in public? Don't you have anything to explain to me?"

Ethan opened his mouth but said nothing.

"I know what you want to say. You want to tell me there's nothing between you, that everything is innocent."

"But let me ask you, why did you fire your previous assistant just for leaning against you?"

"You give her a million-dollar bracelet. What do you think that represents?"

"Ethan, you're not someone who doesn't understand the weight of your actions."

"Your constant indulgence of her is why she dares to challenge me."

Ethan's expression grew increasingly strained as I pressed on.

"I've seen her resume. She has no experience in appraisal. How did she get a job at the auction house?"

"You're using her to remember your lost love. You've found emotional solace in her. You're reminiscing about your time with Emma through her. Am I right, Ethan?"

Ethan finally lost control of his emotions and buried his face in his hands.

"Victoria, stop... please stop..."

I moved his hands away and cupped his tear-streaked face.

"Ethan, I love you. That's why these things hurt and anger me. Do you love me?"

He whispered softly: "Yes."

Satisfied with his answer, I took the diary from a nearby drawer and gently placed it in Ethan's arms.

"I love you, so I would never damage what you cherish most. But similarly, Ethan, my love has limits. Don't disappoint me again."

Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace, then suddenly pressed me down onto the bed.

A tremor ran up my spine, making me shiver involuntarily. My reaction seemed to excite him. My expensive silk nightgown tore under his hands, and as our bare skin touched, I tasted blood on my lips.

"Remember..." I gripped the back of his neck, my knuckles white, whispering in his ear between breaths, "you only get one chance."

His response was almost violent, a hoarse promise rumbling from his throat:

"There won't be a next time."

The news that Sophia Morgan had been slapped by Ethan in front of clients spread like wildfire.

Her standing at the auction house plummeted.

No one would say a word to her face, but her increasingly marginalized work assignments and the subtle looks from colleagues made it clear to Sophia that her days of favor were over.

The auction business is all about reading the room. After Ethan unhesitatingly signed her disciplinary report when it reached his office, the ostracism became even more obvious.

Sophia was demoted from appraiser to appraiser's assistant, and along with her position, her salary and benefits dropped too.

Her performance deteriorated day by day, with errors both large and small mounting up, until she finally reached the standard for termination.

Ethan's assistant Jackson took the initiative to send Sophia a termination agreement.

But I never expected she could still pull something off.

Light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cold white glow across Ethan's office.

Sophia stood in Ethan's office wearing a white linen dress that clashed with the modern style of the entire office.

The hand-embroidered daisies at the hem were coming loose.

She had spent three nights meticulously recreating this dress, referencing photos of Emma from when she was alive.

"Mr. Pierce..."

Her voice trembled: "I really don't understand what I did wrong..."

Ethan stood by the window, his back rigid.

Outside, rain fell at an angle, tracing winding tear tracks on the glass. On the desk lay the termination notice just delivered by HR, its bright red seal like an unhealed wound.

"They said... said I don't meet the position requirements..."

Sophia suddenly looked up, tears washing away her deliberately imitated light makeup. "But just last week you praised I was very professional..."

"You know my mother is still in the hospital..."

Sophia seized the opportunity to grab his sleeve, her nails almost digging into the fabric. "If I lose my job, her chemotherapy... I'm only coming to you because I have no other options. Please give me a chance to stay."

Lightning flashed outside the window.

Looking at this face that bore a slight resemblance to Emma, Ethan momentarily found himself back in that warehouse that held his painful memories.

He stormed into Jackson's office, his face ashen: "Who gave you the authority to interfere with HR matters?!"

"I pay your salary, and you dare use the power I gave you against my people? Have you lost your mind?"

The assistant responded calmly: "Mr. Pierce, who exactly are 'your people'?"

Ethan's face darkened further as he growled, "You're fired. Get out now!"

That day, Ethan unleashed his fury on me for the first time.

"Victoria!" he raised his voice abruptly. "Do you have to be so ruthless?"

My gemstone appraisal cabinet was overturned completely.

A prized Burmese pigeon-blood ruby rolled across the Persian carpet, and a cutting tool stabbed into the leather sofa.

Ethan approached me, treading through the chaos: "You think you can control me by smashing a few watches and wrecking a few cars?"

"Let me tell you! Sophia will not be leaving! From today, she's my personal assistant!"

"Don't think that just because we're married, you can do whatever you want!"

With that, he slammed the door as he left.

I watched him go with a blank expression, then crouched down to pick up a sharp piece of glass.

Blood dripped from my palm onto the shattered diamonds, blooming like a flower.

Ethan, since you've chosen to fight me, don't blame me for being merciless.