In the fifth year since Camilla Hawthorne became a vegetable, she heard her husband, Charles Hawthorne, whisper in her ear, "Camilla, you're of no use to me anymore. Just keep sleeping and never wake up."

Camilla wondered if she had misheard. 'How could the man who once loved me say such a thing?' she thought.

At the age of twenty-two, Camilla had an accident. To save their two children, she became a vegetable.

The doctors said she only had basic life functions, no perception-essentially, she was a breathing doll.

But in reality, Camilla could hear and feel everything around her; she just couldn't wake up. Ironically, this helped her see Charles' true face.

The nurse knocked and came in to remind him, "Mr. Hawthorne, visiting hours are over for today."

Charles smiled charmingly at the nurse and nodded. Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed Camilla's forehead, as if with deep affection. "Camilla, I hope you'll wake up when I come to see you next time."

Camilla sneered inwardly, 'I will wake up and surprise you.'

Outside the door, two nurses were talking. "Mr. Hawthorne is so kind. For five years, he's visited his vegetable wife every week."

"I heard he's very wealthy. Do you really think he hasn't had an affair in five years?" another nurse said,

Only after the door closed did Camilla slowly open her eyes. She tried to get out of bed, but her muscles had atrophied from lying in bed for five years. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she fell hard.

Gritting her teeth and enduring the pain, she crawled to the window. Down below was a black Bentley.

Camilla recognized the car; its license plate number was her birthday.

It was a birthday gift Charles had given her on their wedding anniversary. She had been so happy, thinking Charles was her true love.

He had said, "Camilla, this is our first year together. We have ten, fifty more years to spend together."

Camilla closed her eyes and then opened them again. She watched as Charles' secretary, Ophelia Wadsworth, stepped out of the car in high heels, acting like his wife.

Ophelia ran toward Charles with a smile but tripped and fell forward. Charles quickly caught her.

They looked at each other and smiled. Charles smiled more brightly than Camilla had ever seen. It felt like being cut with a dull knife.

Camilla had given so much to Charles. She had given up her job to work for free in his company.

She trembled with pain, tears rolling into her mouth, bitter.

Camilla glared at Ophelia, who playfully kissed Charles' cheek. The next moment, the back door of the car opened.

Camilla saw her twin children, Cecilia Hawthorne and Lucius Hawthorne, step out. They were beautiful, with blue eyes like hers.

"My babies," Camilla murmured, tears streaming down her face. She longed to reach through the window and touch their cute faces.

But her children ran to Ophelia, hugging and kissing her cheeks. Charles stood by, smiling warmly and helplessly. They looked like a family of four.

For five whole years, Charles had never brought the children to see Camilla.

The little girl, Cecilia, suddenly looked up as if sensing something and caught Camilla's eyes through the window. The mother and daughter's gazes met unexpectedly.

Camilla instinctively tidied her hair and smiled cautiously at her girl, but Cecilia seemed frightened and clung to Ophelia.

Camilla's eyes dimmed. Her daughter was afraid of her.

"Daddy, Mommy, there's someone there," Cecilia said, pointing at Camilla's window.

Charles followed Cecilia's gesture and his expression changed slightly. It was Camilla's hospital room, but there was no one at the window.

"Cecilia, are you sure you didn't see wrong?" Charles asked his daughter.

"No." Cecilia shook her head firmly. "I saw her. There was a lady with long hair."

Charles frowned, about to say something, but his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was a call from Camilla's attending physician, Desmond Fisher.

Charles answered, "Hello, Dr. Fisher?"

"Hi, Mr. Hawthorne," Desmond said excitedly, "good news, Mr. Hawthorne's awake."

Inside the hospital room, Camilla sat quietly on the bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses who were examining her.

Camilla had pressed the bedside call button to notify the nursing station that she had woken up.

After five years as a vegetable, she had had enough. Camilla was awake now. She would definitely get a divorce.

Her youth could be sacrificed, but her property, her career, and most importantly, her two children-she would take them all back, and she would not let that bastard benefit from any of it. Camilla's ultimate goal was to strip Charles of custody and leave him with nothing.

But after being out of the picture for five years, she needed some time to prepare for the divorce.

Out of the corner of her eye, Camilla caught a glimpse of Charles's clothing as he stood outside the door. It was the time.

"Dr. Fisher, how are my eyes?" Camilla asked in a panic. "Why can't I see anything as soon as I wake up?"

Charles, who had just entered the room, heard this and furrowed his brow, walking over to the bedside with a worried expression.

"Camilla?" he called softly.

The sound made Camilla feel sick inside.

"Charles, you're finally here," she forced herself to say, her voice trembling. She played the part of a blind woman, her eyes lifeless as she fumbled and threw herself into Charles's arms.

Camilla could smell the lingering scent of a woman's perfume on him.

"Charles, I'm so scared. I can't see you," she whispered.

Charles held her and soothed her gently. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. No matter the cost, I'll get you the best treatment."

Desmond interjected, "Mr. Hawthorne, don't worry too much. There doesn't seem to be any major issue with Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes. It's likely that her optic nerves just haven't recovered from such a long period of unconsciousness."

Charles pressed on. "So, how long will it take to fully recover?"

Desmond hesitated, not willing to make a definite promise. "The recovery time really depends on the patient's individual condition. It could be a couple of months, or it might take longer."

Camilla leaned weakly against Charles, her eyes cold and calculating despite her feigned helplessness.

She could feel Charles's tense body relax. A blind woman whose recovery timeline was uncertain was enough to lower his guard.

Seizing the opportunity, Camilla made her request. "Charles, I don't want to stay in the hospital anymore. I want to go home. Once I regain my sight, I want to see you and our children right away."

Desmond also chimed in, "Mr. Hawthorne, bringing Mrs. Hawthorne back to a familiar environment might actually help with her recovery."

Charles thought for a moment, then agreed to take Camilla home immediately.

Her legs were still too weak to support her, so he borrowed a wheelchair from the hospital and pushed her downstairs.

Camilla couldn't help but think of how Charles had held Ophelia earlier. It was almost laughable. He could hold another woman but was reluctant to hold her.

Inside the elevator, there was a mirror. Camilla, still wearing her sunglasses, glanced at Charles behind her.

After five years, he was still handsome, even more so with the charm of a mature man.

But Camilla had become pitifully thin as if she had been drained of all her vitality.

In this relationship, she had indeed been drained by Charles.

*****

Meanwhile, after Charles had wheeled Camilla away, Desmond secretly dialed a number. "Mr. Norwood, Mrs. Hawthorne-I mean, Ms. Winslow," Desmond almost bit his tongue with his slip of the tongue, but he quickly corrected himself and continued nervously, "She's finally awake."

*****

Downstairs, Camilla took a quiet look around. Ophelia and the children were nowhere to be seen; they must have left ahead of time.

Charles wheeled Camilla over to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and the first thing Camilla saw was a lipstick lying on the seat.

Charles glanced at Camilla, picked up the lipstick without a word, and slipped it into his pocket. Then he nonchalantly lifted Camilla into the passenger seat.

"Charles," Camilla asked softly, "in the five years since I became a vegetable, has another woman sat in the passenger seat of this car?"

"Absolutely not," Charles denied outright. He paused for a moment and said half-jokingly, "Everyone in Yerinton knows that my wife is notoriously fierce. She once stormed into a kidnapper's den with a gun."

'Fierce?' Camilla wondered.

Yes, she remembered. Shortly after she and Charles got married, Charles was kidnapped. The police were making slow progress, and Camilla was nearly driven mad with worry. She used all her connections to investigate and finally found Charles's whereabouts.

Camilla had gone to rescue him with a box of money and a gun, risking her own life. Charles had also sworn that he would never betray her.

The traffic light turned red, and the car stopped steadily behind the crosswalk. Charles suddenly glanced at her. "Camilla, how did you feel during the five years you were a vegetable?"

Camilla, behind her sunglasses, looked indifferently at Charles's hand reaching out to hold hers. "I just felt like I had a very long dream. It was pitch black in the dream, with no sound, no light. It was so terrifying."

Charles heard the answer he wanted and relaxed. He patted her hand. "It's all over, Camilla. We're going home."

Camilla forced a smile. "Yeah, it's all over."

'Charles, our marriage is over too,' she wondered, 'Now it's time to settle the score.'

The light turned green, and Charles stepped on the gas, propelling the car forward. As they passed, a black Maybach sped by. For a moment, Camilla's face, framed by her sunglasses, flashed by the dark window of the Maybach's back seat.

Inside the car, the man's face, chiseled like a sculpture, was hidden in the shadows, exuding an air of cold detachment. But as Camilla's face slipped from his vision, his pupils suddenly contracted sharply.

He rolled down the window and his gaze followed her out of the window.

"Mr. Norwood, what's wrong?" Elias Grantham, the assistant in the passenger seat, turned around to ask. He had never seen the boss so flustered.

"Nothing," Benedict Norwood replied.

The Bentley had already driven far away, shrinking into an invisible dot.

Benedict slowly withdrew his gaze. In the distance, the sign of the Uniteon Group loomed majestically under the night sky. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking of something.

"Camilla?" Benedict murmured hoarsely, savoring the name, and slowly said, "She's back."

A black Bentley pulled up in front of a villa. Charles carried Camilla out of the car and gently placed her in a wheelchair, then began to push her forward.

Camilla, behind her dark sunglasses, surveyed the villa before her. This was the house she and Charles had shared as a married couple. After a five-year absence, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

"Camilla, we're home," Charles whispered softly into her ear, his voice tender. "Can you smell it? The tulips you planted for me. I've taken good care of them over the years."

Camilla gazed indifferently at the tulips in full bloom in the front garden, standing gracefully under the moonlight.

She had planted each one, all for Charles.

He had once said that tulips were his favorite flower. Back then, she had been completely devoted to him. If he liked something, she would do anything for him without question. She had planted hundreds, even thousands, of tulips, never once asking why.

Later, Camilla became a vegetable. Ophelia would visit her every time, bringing a bouquet of tulips.

She would smile and say, "Camilla, did you know? Tulips are my favorite flowers. Thank you for planting so many in the garden. I'm always so happy when I come to your and Charles's house."

*****

A wave of resentment surged through Camilla. She fiercely snapped a tulip beside her.

She didn't regret loving Charles all these years. Camilla was the type of person who could give her all and accept defeat gracefully, but she couldn't stand to see her love being trampled on like this.

Charles had already wheeled her to the front door.

Camilla designed this villa, which had been their marital home, down to the last detail. Even the fingerprint lock was her choice.

Sitting in the wheelchair, Camilla was at the perfect height to reach the lock. She instinctively reached out to press her fingerprint, but Charles stopped her before she could touch it.

Camilla could feel the slight dampness in Charles's palm; he was nervous. "Camilla, let me open the door," he said.

A cold glint flickered in Camilla's eyes. She saw through his actions. He had erased even her fingerprints. Camilla wanted to laugh, but her heart ached fiercely.

She meekly and quietly withdrew her hand, watching as Charles pressed his fingerprint to unlock the door. Just a second before the lock clicked open, a beautiful hand opened the door first. It was Ophelia, who had clearly become the lady of this house.

Camilla's hands clenched tightly on her lap as she barely held back her almost uncontrollable emotions.

'Did Ophelia live in my marital home, sleep with my husband, and take care of my children while I lay in bed, suffering as a vegetable for those five years?' Camilla thought.

Ophelia had been smiling when she opened the door, but her smile froze when she saw not just Charles, but also Camilla in the wheelchair outside.

"What's the matter, Charles? Why aren't you pushing me in?" Camilla asked.

Through the mirror on the opposite wall, she saw Charles gesture for Ophelia to be quiet. Ophelia finally realized that Camilla couldn't see her and quietly stepped back, allowing Charles to wheel Camilla inside.

"Charles, where are Lucius and Cecilia? Where are they?" Camilla asked eagerly. She had already chosen their names when she was pregnant.

At this moment, Camilla didn't care about the mistress. She couldn't wait to see her two precious children and hold them in her arms.

For five years, her love for them had been what kept her going, and now she had finally woken up.

Charles spoke in a low voice. "They have school early tomorrow and have already gone to bed. Your eyesight hasn't fully recovered yet. There's no need to rush."

Camilla's eyes dimmed beneath her sunglasses. She knew she couldn't show too much eagerness at this moment; it would raise Charles's suspicions.

"Then-" Camilla was about to speak when she suddenly heard thumping footsteps descending the stairs. She instinctively turned her head and saw Cecilia and Lucius holding hands as they came down.

Both children were wearing pajamas and slippers-one in blue and the other in pink. Camilla felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hi, Dad," Lucius greeted, his gaze falling on Camilla in the wheelchair. He seemed to guess who she was, nervously clutching the corner of his clothes, unsure of what to do.

Cecilia, however, was looking at Ophelia with shining eyes.

"Oph-" Cecilia started to say, but she saw Ophelia give her a slight shake of the head. Although she didn't understand, Cecilia obediently closed her mouth.

"Are those Cecilia and Lucius?" Camilla forced herself to hold back her heartbreak, opening her arms in the direction of the children. "I'm your mom. Come here and let me hold you, okay?"

Instead of approaching Camilla, Cecilia shrank back in fear. However, Lucius hesitated for a moment before slowly walking up to Camilla. He carefully reached out and gently touched her face, as if to confirm she was real. "Are you really Mom?"

"It's me, sweetheart. I'm your and Cecilia's mom," Camilla replied softly. She wanted nothing more than to just hold Lucius, but she was afraid of scaring her baby.

After all, to Lucius and Cecilia, Camilla might as well be a strange woman who had been asleep for five years.

Charles spoke up. "Alright, it's getting late. Lucius, take Cecilia back to the room and get some sleep. We'll talk about your mom when you get home from school tomorrow."

Lucius glanced at Camilla a few more times before turning to go upstairs.

Camilla finally couldn't hold back. "Lucius, can I hold you?" She was almost pleading, and a tear slid down from beneath her sunglasses.

Lucius hesitated for a long while, about to turn back to Camilla, when Charles spoke again, his voice carrying a fatherly authority. "Lucius, go back to the room."

Charles placed a hand on Camilla's shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry. The kids lost you as soon as they were born. They just need some time to accept this."

Camilla felt a chill in her heart. Charles was doing this on purpose. He didn't want her to get close to the children.

Lucius had already led Cecilia upstairs, with Cecilia casting a reluctant glance at Ophelia and blowing her a secret kiss.

Camilla saw it all. She closed her eyes, feeling utterly bitter inside. She could easily discard the scum of a man to his mistress, but she wouldn't allow anyone to take her children away from her.

After the children went upstairs, Charles carried Camilla back to the bedroom and placed her on the bed.

The wedding photo of her and Charles that had once hung on the wall was now taken down and casually thrown into the corner, covered with a cloth that happened to hide her face.

Camilla sneered inwardly, thinking, 'It seems Charles despises me so much that he can't even stand to look at my picture.'

"Camilla, you rest now. I'll go to the study and handle some work," Charles said gently and considerately before turning to leave.

"Charles?" Camilla suddenly called out to him. "Do you know what my favorite flower is?"

Charles paused for a moment, seemingly surprised by the question, but he quickly regained his composure. "Of course, I do. You love tulips. What I like, you like. Camilla, you've always been like that."

Camilla gave a faint smile. "Yes, I have."

She had always adopted Charles's preferences as her own, always putting him first and herself last.

She had been incredibly foolish.

As soon as the door closed, Camilla's smile vanished completely.

Camilla, of course, didn't believe that Charles had gone to the study. Charles must have gone to find Ophelia.

Camilla walked over to the window and peered through the gap in the curtains at the scene below. Ophelia was clinging tightly to Charles's waist, and they looked like the perfect couple.

Camilla let out a sarcastic laugh. She watched as Charles gently pushed Ophelia away and pulled out the lipstick that she had accidentally left behind from his pocket, handing it to Ophelia.

The two exchanged a few words, and then Ophelia stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Camilla felt so disgusted that she couldn't bear to watch it any longer. She moved away from the window and made her way into the walk-in closet with great effort.

The walk-in closet was spacious, with her clothes neatly arranged on one side. Most of them were plain-colored dresses, gentle and demure.

Charles liked her in plain colors. In fact, Camilla didn't really like plain colors, but since Charles had said she looked beautiful in a white dress, she had been catering to his preferences in her dressing.

Camilla felt utterly ridiculous.

She pulled open a hidden compartment in the wardrobe, revealing her passport, bank cards, two cell phones, and a bulging envelope.

The words Yerinton University on the envelope's cover pricked at Camilla's eyes. She glanced at it briefly before quickly averting her gaze.

The contents of that envelope, which she had never sent, were her biggest regret over the years.

Camilla took out one of the cell phones, unlocked it, and opened her contact list. Thankfully, all her contacts were still there.

She dialed her best friend Winifred Templeton's number.

The phone had barely started ringing when Winifred answered immediately. Her voice was trembling with excitement. "Camilla? Is that you?"

Before Camilla could say a word, Winifred launched into a tirade on the other end. "I'm warning you. If you're not Camilla but Charles, and you dare disturb my sleep, I'll tweet about you tomorrow. My eighty million followers are not to be messed with."

Camilla laughed, finally feeling the warmth of a long-lost connection. "Winifred, it's me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, but Camilla knew Winifred all too well. She moved the phone away from her ear and mentally counted to three.

Winifred let out a scream. "Camilla, you're finally awake. I've missed you so much. Are you in the hospital or at home? Give me an address, and I'll rush right over."

Camilla also longed to see her best friend as soon as possible, but now wasn't the right time. "Winifred, I can't see you yet. I need you to do two things for me."

"Name it. What do you need?" Winifred's voice was eager and fierce. "I can hire someone to assassinate Charles. How dare he turn you into a vegetable for five years."

'What a true friend,' Camilla thought to herself. She smiled quietly and got down to business. "Winifred, first, I need you to look into Charles's secretary, Ophelia. The more details, the better."

"Sure thing. Over the years you were in a coma, Charles always had Ophelia by his side at every public event. She dressed like his wife every time. I've been itching to get back at her," Winifred said sarcastically.

Camilla fell silent.

In fact, Ophelia had originally been her secretary. When Camilla was pregnant, Charles hired Ophelia as an assistant to ease Camilla's burden.

Now, it seemed that Charles and Ophelia's relationship was likely more complicated than it appeared.

"Camilla, what's the second thing?" Winifred pressed.

Camilla steadied herself. "Tomorrow, I need you to find a few gardeners to come to the villa. I want to dig up all the tulips in the front yard and plant my favorite-"

"Yellow roses," Winifred interrupted.

Camilla was taken aback. "How did you know?"

Camilla had loved yellow roses since childhood, but few people knew about it. Later, since Charles was fond of tulips, Camilla had stopped mentioning her preference altogether.

'How did Winifred, my college roommate, know?' Camilla wondered.

Winifred grumbled, "I didn't expect him to be telling the truth. Your favorite flower really is the yellow rose."

"Who is he?" Camilla pressed.

Winifred, however, dropped a name that left Camilla utterly astonished. "Benedict told me before."

Camilla was so shocked that she almost dropped her phone.

She knew Benedict all too well. His face, excessively handsome and striking, was etched into her memory, impossible to forget.

The last time she had seen Benedict was seven years ago, at the airport.

Camilla had received a call from Charles, and at the last moment before boarding, she had turned around without hesitation. Benedict was the only one who had stopped her.

He stood in front of her, his tall and upright figure blocking out the light. The setting sun outside the window shone on his exceptionally handsome face, making his mesmerizing deep eyes seem even colder and more sinister.