Lucinda Lozano found out that she looked a lot like her husband's first love three years after they got married.

Before they tied the knot, Ferdinand Wagner seemed really into her. Every page of his diary was filled with secret crush notes about her.

She always thought those love poems and diary entries were all about her.

Back then, she felt like the luckiest girl alive, thinking Ferdinand loved her more than anything.

But now, she found an old photo in the cabinet.

The girl in the photo looked just like her, even down to the mole at the corner of her eye.

On the back was a love note: "You're as pure and radiant as the moon."

And it was signed "Jennifer Manning" and "Ferdinand Wagner."

Lucinda stared at the photo, and then tears started rolling down her cheeks.

She held it tight and sat on the floor for a long time.

Finally, she got out her phone with a trembling hand to call a law firm about getting a divorce agreement.

But just as she touched the screen, her phone buzzed with a message from the hospital: "Ms. Lozano, you're six weeks pregnant."

The phone slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor, showing her pale face on the screen.

How awful.

Her lower belly started feeling a bit heavy, like something was growing there.

Tears came again, but this time they were hot.

"Baby..." she whispered to the air, her voice shaky and broken. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Her finger ran over the name "Jennifer" on the photo, then stopped on her slightly rounded belly.

She slowly put the photo at the bottom of the drawer and covered it with a soft sweater, like hiding her broken feelings in the dark.

She told herself that no matter what, she'd keep the baby, even if it meant leaving her husband.

Just then, her phone lit up with a call from her bestie, Vivian Sweeney.

"Lucinda, come to Room 308 at the club." Vivian's voice was shaking, and she was trying to keep it down. "I saw Ferdinand with some girl..."

When Vivian asked her to go to the club, Lucinda never thought she'd see Jennifer there.

As Lucinda opened the VIP room door, the cold gleam of the crystal chandelier shimmered in the haze of smoke and alcohol.

She saw Jennifer right away, huddled in the corner of the couch.

"She does look like me," Lucinda thought.

She suddenly remembered how Ferdinand, when he was drunk, would always stroke her hair and mumble, "So alike."

Her throat tightened. Lucinda wanted to tell him, "I'm nothing like her," but all that came out was, "Ferdinand."

"Mr. Wagner, your wife's here," someone said.

That was when Lucinda noticed the guy lounging on the couch. His fringe was a bit damp, his tie hung loose around his neck, and he had a cigar in his fingers. He looked both relaxed and sophisticated.

When he saw Lucinda, Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. "Why are you dressed so lightly?"

He waved at her, his voice rough from drinking.

She walked over quietly, but he yanked her into his arms. The smell of cigar and cologne hit her like a wave.

People around them started giggling and making jokes, like, "Look, Mr. Wagner really loves his wife!"

But Lucinda caught Jennifer in the corner, staring at their linked hands, her fingers digging into her own palm.

Suddenly, a whistle cut through the air. Someone pointed at Jennifer with a mocking grin. "Hey Jenny, your ex is right here. Why don't you beg him to help your dad with the loan?"

More laughter followed. Another voice chimed in, "You guys used to be so close. Just spend a night with Mr. Wagner, and the money is yours!"

Lucinda felt Ferdinand's hand on her shoulder get tight. He took a drag on his cigarette and looked over. The tip of the cigarette flickered in the dim light.

She thought he would sneer, but his voice came slow and low. "Cut the damn crap."

He blew out some smoke and leaned even more on her, saying, "If my wife is upset, you guys are all in trouble."

Everyone laughed even harder.

Jennifer flushed crimson in an instant.

The man teasing her placed his chubby hand on her shoulder, rubbing it as he leaned in with boozy breath. "What's up? Did Mr. Wagner dump you?"

He stuck his finger in the collar of her sweater and pulled it down a bit. "Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you. Come with me tonight, and I'll give you all the money you want."

From the corner of her eye, Lucinda saw Ferdinand's fingers on the armrest suddenly clench, his knuckles bleaching white. The hand holding the bottle flexed, veins standing out sharply along the back.

So he did still care.

"No way!" Jennifer bit back her tears and lifted her gaze to Ferdinand. "I only love one man in this life. Even if he doesn't want me, I won't let anyone else touch me!"

Then she spun on her heel, her high heels striking the floor in a hurried, uneven rhythm.

Her words hit Lucinda hard.

Ferdinand closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples, tapping a rapid beat on the armrest—that restless tempo he always kept when forcing down his anger.

A second later, his eyes snapped open, flicking to the reddened corner of Jennifer's eyes. When he spoke, his voice had gone cold. "I'm going to the restroom.

"Also, watch your damn mouths in the future."

The room fell silent. Not a single soul dared speak again.

Almost without thinking, Lucinda followed them.

At the end of the hallway, under the glow of the emergency light, Ferdinand was gently wiping the wine from Jennifer's wrist with a wet wipe. He was being so careful, like he were soothing a frightened kitten.

Suddenly, Jennifer flinched and pulled her hand back. Her sleeve slipped down a bit, and there was a faint blue tattoo on her wrist. Cursive letters spelled Ferdie, ghosting beneath her skin.

"What's this?" Ferdinand's fingers froze. A drop of water slid from the wipe onto the back of her hand, cold against her skin, a sharp counterpoint to the heat pounding in his chest.

Jennifer hastily covered the tattoo with her other hand, her fingertips trembling. "Nothing..."

She lowered her gaze to avoid his eyes, her hair falling over her eyes to hide how red they were.

Ferdinand caught her wrist again, his grip so tight it drew a soft gasp from her lips.

The emergency light cast a shadow across his brow, but it couldn't hide the anger in his eyes. "Answer me!"

"Don't..." Jennifer's voice broke, thick with tears, her nails digging into his palm. "Please...don't ask."

Ferdinand's Adam's apple bobbed. "After your family went bankrupt..."

She suddenly choked up and threw herself into his arms. "My dad got sick right then, and the chemotherapy cost so much. I had no choice but to leave you..."

"Why?" His voice was low, muffled, but his arms tightened around her. "I could've helped you."

"You were barely holding yourself together back then." Her tears seeped through his shirt. "I couldn't be another burden to you."

She pulled up her sleeve to show the scars along the inside of her arm. "See? Every mark was from a night I missed you. I'd rather die than be with another man."

Ferdinand's eyes filled with pain. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the tattoo on her wrist, as if soothing a wounded creature.

Jennifer leaned against him, shaking all over. "I'd rather die than let you think I'm that kind of girl. I know you're married now..."

She suddenly looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. "But every time I see her, I can't help but remember you once said you'd marry me."

Then she collapsed fully into his arms and cried her heart out.

Ferdinand didn't push her away. Instead, he held her even tighter, like he was protecting her.

Outside the doorway, Lucinda stood in silence, staring at the message she just got from Ferdinand: "I ran into a business partner. I'll be out late tonight and won't be coming back."

What a lame excuse, just like the way he said he loved her, and she used to lap it up.

Since their wedding, Ferdinand had never stayed out late, no matter how busy he was.

But after that day, he started coming home only in the morning.

In the third week of this, the entertainment headlines blared: "Mysterious Girl Spotted with Mr. Ferdinand Wagner at Night, Holding Hands—Could She Be the New Love Interest?"

The photo showed him in the dark gray coat Lucinda had picked out, holding Jennifer's wrist.

At six a.m. sharp, his mom, Leanne Wagner, called on time.

Lucinda stared at the dark circles under her eyes in the mirror and listened to Leanne's worried question, digging her fingernails into her palm. "Ferdie says he's working late these days. You two didn't have a fight, did you?"

"Mhm, he's busy," Lucinda replied casually, her voice cold.

She turned and pulled out the photo album that had been untouched for ages.

The plastic cover gave a faint crackle as she lifted it. Most of the photos inside were of the beautiful places she had visited on her own, with only the occasional glimpse of Ferdinand—a frown during a meeting, dozing on the couch—but not a single one where he smiled at her.

She should've known it. If he really loved her, why didn't they have any photos together?

Maybe now it made sense. He didn't want the photos to bring back memories of someone else.

On the very last page, a blurry photo was tucked away.

Lucinda's gaze fixed on the faint scar across the back of Ferdinand's hand. That was from when he had shielded her from broken glass at a drinking party. Now he was holding another girl's hand with that same hand.

"Lucinda?" Leanne's voice pulled her back.

She gritted her teeth and sent over a photo from the night before their wedding.

"You've always been the sensible one," Leanne sighed. "Ferdie won't admit what's in his heart."

Listening to the static in the receiver, Lucinda murmured, "I'm tired."

When she hung up, the album slipped from her hands, scattering photos all over the floor.

Her eyes landed on one of them. It was from her birthday, with Ferdinand leaning down to cut the cake. His lashes cast shadows beneath his eyes, but he was smiling a little.

Back then, she had thought that smile was meant for her. Now she realized he was thinking of someone far away.

After Leanne posted her statement on Twitter to clear things up, the comments got flooded with stuff like "Mrs. Wagner is so sweet" and "Mr. Wagner really knows how to pick a wife."

Lucinda stared at that blurry photo someone snapped, her finger hovering over the screen for a long time, when a new message alert popped up. Ferdinand had shared Jennifer's post from this morning: "Our relationship is pure, and nobody can mess with it."

His little note was like a knife, short and straight to the point, right into her heart.

The comments flipped instantly, with people calling her names like "other woman" and "drama queen." Some even pointed out how she and Jennifer looked kind of similar, making fun of her as a "low-rent stand-in."

When the front door key turned, Lucinda was still scrolling through those comments.

Ferdinand walked in, carrying his usual faint, cool scent. His face, relaxed with a trace of a smile, turned icy the moment he saw what was on her phone. "Why are you looking at this junk?"

He reached out, trying to grab her phone.

"Just checking it out."

His fingers grazed the back of her hand, gentle as always. "What you see online is some trick by our rivals. Jenny is just..."

Lucinda inwardly scoffed at his sweet-talking.

"Yeah, I know," she cut him off and began folding sweaters into a suitcase.

Seeing how cold she was acting, Ferdinand got a bit annoyed. "Are you really okay?"

She let out a soft laugh. "Why wouldn't I trust you? Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be about?"

With that, she got up and walked away.

Ferdinand watched her retreating back, a weird feeling stirring inside him, but it vanished in an instant, swept away by a rush of relief.

The next morning, the first thing Lucinda did was go get a visa.

She wanted to finish her mom's dream of traveling around the world.

To save enough money, she called the curator who had set up her art shows before and asked if they could do it again.

When she got home after all that, she started going through the stuff she and Ferdinand had together.

The floor-to-ceiling window in the master bedroom let in the early spring sun. Looking at her wedding photo with Ferdinand, she remembered him saying, "Sunshine looks best when it's on my wife."

"Ferdie, this window is perfect! I wanna live here!"

Jennifer's voice came from behind. She shuffled into the room wearing Lucinda's slippers, her hospital gown all loose off her shoulders.

Lucinda turned and swept her with a cold, cutting glance.

Startled by the look, Jennifer shrank back, and when she came to her senses, she quickly hid behind Ferdinand.

"Jenny is one of our company's partners," Ferdinand said evenly, as though making a simple announcement. "She has been ill recently and has no one to look after her, so I brought her back."

Lucinda almost laughed from sheer anger. "So you wanna put her in my room? Ferdinand, do you even remember this was where we got married?!"

Her voice trembled with suppressed fury, and every breath felt like a needle in her side from the miscarriage.

"I didn't know this was your room." Jennifer hunched her shoulders, fingers brushing over the curtains. "But the doctor said I need at least three hours of sunlight every day..."

Then she broke into a cough, her face flushing red. "If there was any other way..."

"Enough," Ferdinand cut her off. "Jenny needs this room. You can stay in the guest room upstairs. It has got heating."

He tried to take the box out of Lucinda's hands. "Don't be difficult. Jenny isn't feeling well."

To Lucinda, it sounded like the cruelest joke.

But all she said was, "Fine..."

Before she could even finish, Jennifer jumped in. "Ferdie, maybe I should sleep in the living room. Don't make things hard for Lucinda."

She tugged at the back of his suit.

Ferdinand's voice got soft right away. "The guest room is too cold. Stay in the master bedroom, okay?"

The room suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Lucinda's eyes caught the faint trace of lipstick on Ferdinand's suit. That was the exact shade Jennifer had worn in her photo that morning.

She felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to ask why, but then she saw Jennifer standing by the window, giving her a little smirk.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

Why?

It was because Ferdinand loved Jennifer.

"Okay." The sound came out muffled. As she turned around, Lucinda accidentally knocked over the vase on the nightstand.

Glass shattered across the floor. Ferdinand frowned, while Jennifer let out a startled cry and threw herself into his arms. "Ferdie, I'm scared of the broken glass!"

Lucinda bent down to pick up the pieces, and her finger got cut, leaving a trail of blood.

Ferdinand passed by without even stopping. He said in a flat voice, "The guest room is upstairs. Have the housekeeper Carolyn move your stuff."

Jennifer's laughter drifted through the rustle of the curtains in the wind. "Ferdie, you're always so nice to me!"

The guest room's window was small. Sunlight cut in at a slant, falling across the faded bedsheets.

Holding a pillow, Lucinda stood at the doorway and watched the master bedroom curtains sway in the wind. Jennifer moved in the light, almost like the day she first moved in, when Ferdinand had helped her hang the curtains.

"Mrs. Wagner, your things..." Carolyn Clifford's voice cut into Lucinda's thoughts.

Lucinda looked down at the pillow she was holding, the initials of her and Ferdinand stitched on it. It was a handiwork she had made for their wedding. Now she was moving it to the guest room, feeling like she didn't belong there anymore.

When night came, she could hear soft laughter from the master bedroom.

Lying on the bed in the guest room, she stared at the water stains on the ceiling and remembered Ferdinand had once said, "I wanna see you every morning when I wake up."

Now he had someone else to see, and she didn't even have the right to sleep in the master bedroom anymore.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a new post from Jennifer on Instagram: "Finally living in my dream room with a floor-to-ceiling window!"

In the photo, Jennifer leaned on Ferdinand's shoulder, with the off-white curtains Lucinda had picked out in the background.

Looking at the photo of the room she had decorated herself, Lucinda dug her fingernails into her palm. She realized that some warmth was never meant for her.

It started to drizzle outside, and a cold wind was sneaking in through the window.

From downstairs, Lucinda heard Ferdinand coughing. Her hand, halfway through pulling back the covers, froze. Back in the day, she'd rush to get him some warm milk whenever he coughed.

She instinctively reached for the medicine, but as she got up, it hit her like a ton of bricks: she wasn't the one supposed to take care of him anymore.

Tears fell without warning, splashing onto the pillow.

She finally got it. Some disappointments built up over time. No matter how much sunlight poured into the master bedroom, it couldn't reach the dark corners of the guest room.

It was time for her to snap out of this whole marriage thing.

Before leaving the house, Lucinda overheard Ferdinand whisper to Jennifer in the foyer, "There's some tonic soup in the fridge. Heat it up before you eat."

Clutching the lawyer's card, she stepped out. The spring sun shone on her shoulders, but it didn't feel warm at all.

Three hours later, she came back home with the draft of the divorce agreement. As she pushed open the door, she saw Jennifer sitting cross-legged at the dressing table, fiddling with that sandalwood comb with three teeth broken off.

A memory of her mom combing her hair on her deathbed flashed before her eyes.

The comb was the only thing her mom had left her.

"Why did you touch my stuff?!" Lucinda's voice was shaking.

Jennifer, touching up her lipstick in the mirror, said without looking up, "Since you're moving to the guest room, I thought I'd help you get rid of these old things."

She played with the broken comb. "Plus, Ferdinand said I'm in charge of this place now."

Lucinda's blood boiled, and she slapped Jennifer.

Jennifer's cheek instantly turned red. She stood there for a second, shocked, then screamed and lunged at Lucinda.

Lucinda instinctively stepped back, but then she saw Ferdinand standing in the doorway.

Jennifer immediately tripped and fell, clutching Lucinda's sleeve. "Ferdie, she slapped me."

"She broke my comb first! That was my mom's..." Lucinda didn't even get to finish before Ferdinand cut her off.

"Are you done with this drama?" He frowned at her, glancing at the broken comb on the floor, his tone flat. "It's just a comb. No need to get physical."

Then he bent down to help Jennifer up, fixing her hair. "Go sit on the couch. I'll have someone get you an ice pack."

"That was my mom's thing." Lucinda's voice seemed to come from somewhere far away.

Ferdinand paused, but didn't turn around. He picked up the cigarette case from the table. "I'll have Carolyn get a new one tomorrow."

When he struck a match, he finally looked at Lucinda. "Stop being so willful. Jenny isn't feeling well."

Willful?

Lucinda stared at the glow between his fingers and suddenly laughed.

Ferdinand was about to say something, but Jennifer tugged at his sleeve. "I cut my hand." He immediately turned to get the first-aid kit, his steps hurried.

The smell of sandalwood and ash filled Lucinda's nose. She remembered her mom used to say, "When the comb breaks, it's all over." And it seemed she had been right.

Her fingers touched the cold bedsheet, and she thought about when Ferdinand said, "My wife gets cold easily." She realized that being nice could sometimes hurt as much as being mean.

At 3 a.m., Lucinda heard some noise and opened the door. There was Ferdinand, standing at the door, holding the blanket she always used.

"The guest room is freezing. Thought I'd bring you this," he said, his voice kind of rough.

When he pushed the door open, Lucinda was sitting there, wiping the broken comb in the moonlight.

He reeked of women's perfume and had his tie hanging loosely around his neck, like he had just gotten back from a wild night out.

"Still up?" He reached out to touch her hair, but she dodged without hesitation.

His hand froze.

Lucinda looked up at him, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "What's this? Here to get back at me for slapping your love?"

Ferdinand raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. He pinched her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "Still sulking? Let me make it up to you."

Before she could even react, he pinned her to the headboard and kissed her.

He squeezed her waist hard, like he was punishing her, but when she bit his lower lip, he let up.

He whispered in her ear, "I got the comb fixed on the double. You'll have it back by tomorrow."

Hearing this, she stopped pushing him away.

But the next second, he said something mean.

"Lucinda," he murmured against her lips, "stop this and go apologize to Jenny."

Tears fell before Lucinda could stop them, salty on her tongue.

She remembered how, on their wedding night, he had coaxed her the same way, saying, "My bride must be the sweetest." But now, "sweet" meant swallowing all her feelings and making way for another girl's tears.

"Her eyes are puffy from crying." Ferdinand licked away her tears with his tongue, while his hand slipped under her nightgown to grip her waist. "You don't want me to be in a difficult position, right?"

Lucinda stared at the shadow under his eyelashes.

She opened her mouth—not to yield, but to bite down hard on his tongue. When the taste of blood filled her mouth, he let out a muffled groan, yet didn't push her away.

"Does it hurt?" she panted, nails digging into the back of his neck.

Ferdinand licked the blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled. He pinched her chin and jiggled it, like he was teasing a sulking cat.

"Be a good girl," he said, pulling her hand to press against his chest. "Apologize, and I'll sleep with you tonight."

Half the moon was hidden by clouds outside. Lucinda looked into his eyes, saw what he wanted, and suddenly felt like laughing.

She realized that his sweet-talking always came with a price.

She let go of his tie, letting it slide out of her fingers, and whispered, "Okay."

Ferdinand seemed happy with that. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, then grabbed the broken comb off the nightstand as he got up. "I'll have Carolyn make some tonic soup tomorrow. Don't get mad over little things like this."

"Sleep," he said, gently patting her back like he was calming down a hurt kid.

Lucinda buried her face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the faraway buzz of his phone.

When Jennifer's message popped up, she felt him get all tense.

"Ferdie, my stomach hurts..." The voice message carried a suppressed sob, painfully clear in the silent night.

Ferdinand's fingers froze in Lucinda's hair, not moving for a long moment.

"Just go."

Lucinda's voice was calm and flat.

Ferdinand's Adam's apple moved against her forehead as he whispered, "But I promised you..."

It was funny how he pretended to struggle when he wanted so badly to go.

"She needs you more, doesn't she? Go ahead."

Lucinda looked up at him.

The rain outside suddenly got a lot heavier, drumming on the window like the jagged beat of her broken heart.

"Go, I'll be fine."

As Ferdinand stood up, the strap of his pajamas brushed against the back of her hand.

At the doorway, he turned to glance back, the lamplight carving a sharp line of shadow on his face. "I'll be back soon." He left, taking the broken comb with him.

Rain lashed against the window, echoing that night years ago when they had held each other close in the downpour.

But now, all she could hear in the rain was her own heartbeat and the distant breathing from the master bedroom that wasn't hers.

News spread fast that Ferdinand had asked Lucinda to apologize to Jennifer.

Everyone said he was about to leave her.

But she had to pretend she didn't hear it and tried her best to be his good wife.

Lucinda got a call from the auction house at three in the morning.

Holding the phone, she heard the polished voice say, "The restored version of 'The Rosefinch' will be the final highlight at tomorrow night's auction."

Her fingernails dug into her palm, and only one thought filled her mind: she had to get that painting.

To make it possible, she looked over at the old things Ferdinand once gave her, which she had sorted through a while back.

But now, stripped of love, they were nothing more than items to be sold for money.

On the night of the charity gala, the crystal chandeliers were shining brightly, reflecting off lavish gowns and perfect makeup.

Lucinda, in a plain white dress, stood alone in a corner. Her gaze was calm, yet tinged with loneliness, as she watched the guests chat and laugh.

Just then, through the revolving door, Ferdinand entered with Jennifer on his arm.

Jennifer wore a bright yellow evening gown, radiant and captivating. Her diamond earrings swung gently as she walked, their sparkle hurting Lucinda's eyes.

Ferdinand, in a sharp suit, greeted people around him with a faint smile on his lips, but he never once looked in Lucinda's direction.

The auction started, and the room got more and more excited.

When "The Rosefinch" was carried onto the stage, Lucinda's breath caught in her throat.

The rosefinch in the painting was flying out of its cage, heading for the sky. In the bottom right corner was the signature "Paulina Lozano," which felt like a sharp knife piercing straight into the softest part of her heart.

That was her mom's handwriting.

Aside from the comb that Jennifer broke, this was the only thing her mom had left in the world, and she had to get it!

"Ms. Lozano, your deposit..." The staff member's apologetic voice trailed off.

Lucinda reached for an envelope. Inside was all the money she got from selling the jewelry Ferdinand gave her and mortgaging her family's old house.

"100 thousand dollars." She raised her paddle first. Her voice was steady, but her hand was shaking a little, showing how nervous she was.

Jennifer turned to look at her, a mocking smile playing on her lips. She raised her hand gracefully, her fingers painted red. "200 thousand dollars."

People in the room started talking a little. Lucinda saw Ferdinand lounging on the couch, smoking like he didn't care about anything, and he glanced at her with a playful look in his eyes.

"500 thousand dollars," she gritted out, clutching the paddle in her hand, her palm slick with sweat.

Jennifer's smile deepened, her voice ringing clear. "One million dollars."

The room fell silent at once, and everyone was looking back and forth between them.

Lucinda's heart was pounding. As she looked at the painting, she seemed to see her mom's gentle smile—the time they once shared, her mom's last beautiful memory.

Her eyes fixed on those fingers lacquered in blood-red polish, and the shredded canvas from that charity gala flashed in her mind.

"Don't touch it," she warned, her voice full of anger she was trying to hold back.

"I'll do exactly that," Jennifer answered with a smile, raising the bid again.

Lucinda took a deep breath, lifted her dress, and walked towards Ferdinand.

Her heels clicked sharply against the polished marble floor, each step sounding to her like the beat of a heavy drum.

"Please lend me some money. I don't want anything else, just this painting!" She stood in front of Ferdinand, keeping her voice low. "It means the world to me."

Jennifer's grip on Ferdinand's arm tightened, and she looked a bit annoyed.

Ferdinand arched a brow at Lucinda. Ash fell from his cigarette onto her dress, leaving a tiny burnt spot. "How much could it possibly mean to you?"

Tears welled in her eyes as she met his gaze. "It was my mom's last gift to me. It means everything..." Her words caught in her throat before she could finish.

She remembered her mom, weak and holding her hand on her deathbed, saying she hoped the painting would always be with her.

Ferdinand's eyes lingered on her red eyes. After a moment of silence, he reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But I gotta be fair, don't I? I'm not taking sides. Jenny is using her own money. If she gets the painting, it's hers."

"This isn't just any painting!" Tears started from her eyes. "It's the only thing my mom left me! How can you be so heartless?"

"Are you done causing a scene?" Ferdinand's voice was thick with impatience. "It's just a painting. You can buy another one."

"No! As I said, this isn't just any painting! It's my mom's creation. You can't take it from me!"

Ferdinand shook off her hand, his eyes cold. "Heartless? I only made the fairest decision."

Fair? Truth was, he had made up his mind to side with Jennifer.

When the auctioneer's hammer came down, Lucinda could only watch as the fight for the painting ended.

But she still wanted to try one last time, so she sprinted backstage.

When she went to claim the painting, however, she saw something that shattered her heart. Jennifer was pressing a pen hard against the canvas, streaking bright ink across the rosefinch, tearing it apart as if she were tearing Lucinda's heart.

She wasn't the least bit flustered at being caught. "Lucinda, you really love this painting, huh? But you know what, I don't want you to have it."

With a smirk, she tossed the ruined painting into the trash, the pen clattering carelessly beside it.

Lucinda lunged forward, but Ferdinand appeared just in time to seize her wrist.

He warned her coldly, "Lucinda, touch Jenny and see what happens."

"It's my fault. I was so clumsy that I scratched her painting by accident. I swear I didn't mean it. If she wants to slap me, she has every right to..."

Sure enough, the moment Jennifer cried, Ferdinand felt bad for her.

He pulled her behind him protectively, shielding her. "Stop making a scene. It's just a painting. You can buy another one."

"This isn't just any painting! It was my mom's keepsake!" Lucinda shouted, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You promised me!"

Ferdinand pinched her chin hard, lips curving into a cruel smile. "All this fuss over a painting? Crying like that over something a dead woman left behind?"

From behind him, Jennifer peeked out, feigning guilt. "Lucinda, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean it. My hand just...slipped."

Lucinda looked at Ferdinand and felt like he was a total stranger.

She bent down to pick up the painting frame. The broken glass cut her palm, and blood dripped to the floor, but she didn't even notice.

"Ferdinand, let's get a divorce," she said, looking up with cold and determined eyes.

"Do it now."

Ferdinand looked a bit shaken for a second, but when he saw Jennifer, he put on his indifferent face again. "Don't make a scene here. Save it for when we get home."

His eyes darkened in the light. "If you want this painting, I'll get ten more made for you. I told you, don't get upset over something so small. Jenny didn't mean it, okay?"

That "okay" sounded like the same old way he tried to coax Lucinda, but it just made her feel sick.

"Ferdinand," she began, suddenly laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "You're such a creep."

Without waiting for Ferdinand to say anything, she shook off his hand and walked away.

Behind her, Jennifer's giggles and the guests' murmurs blended together, like an invisible net that kept her stuck in this terrible pain.

When Lucinda stepped out of the place, the cold night wind hit her, and she shivered.

She gazed at the fancy building with all the lights on, and tears started rolling down her face.

She walked for so long that she lost track of how far she had gone.

All she knew was that she couldn't go back. Even if she did, Ferdinand wouldn't be there waiting for her.

Once, she believed love could fix anything, and she thought she could be important to Ferdinand. But now, it had all crumbled like soap bubbles.

The painting that got ruined mirrored her broken love and dreams, and there was no way to put it back together.

By the time Lucinda got back, it was the middle of the night.

When she opened the door, she saw Ferdinand shirtless, droplets of water glistening on his firm muscles.

"Lucinda, why did you come back so late?" Jennifer popped her head out from behind Ferdinand, smiling sweetly and still wearing Lucinda's pajamas.

She threw a bathrobe over him. "Don't get the wrong idea. We were just swimming."

Ferdinand looked up and saw how bedraggled Lucinda was. He scowled a bit, but when Jennifer grabbed his arm, he raised an eyebrow like he didn't care. "You're soaked! Don't you even know how to find shelter? Do I have to come get you myself?"

Lucinda dodged his hand, her voice chilling. "Ms. Manning, watch your behavior in public. You don't want outsiders to think you're trying to break up my family, do you?"

At her words, Ferdinand's eyes turned sharp with coldness. Jennifer suddenly whimpered and threw herself into his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Lucinda, please don't be mad. I'll move out right away."

"Move out?" Ferdinand wrapped his arm around her waist, his fingertips tracing the delicate bones at the nape. "This is my house. Nobody else has a say here."

He then turned to Lucinda. "Look at you. All wet. What are you thinking?"

Lucinda's eyes fell on the ring on his finger. That was the gift she had given him for their wedding anniversary, and now it seemed to shine with a cold, distant glint.

She said softly, "Ferdinand, I'm serious. Let's get a divorce. I've signed the agreement, and I'll file the papers tomorrow."

Ferdinand pushed Jennifer away roughly and strode over to Lucinda. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. "Say that again! Did you forget you promised to be with me forever?"

She pulled out the divorce papers, which were all wrinkled from the dampness. "Sign it. Don't make me think even less of you."

Ferdinand stared at her, his voice trembling with barely contained anger.

He pulled her close in a sudden, intense hug, his strength pressing her against him. "No divorce. Got it? You're my wife, and you're stuck with me for life!"

He rested his chin on top of her head. "Do you really think you can walk away from me like this?"

Lucinda tried to push him away, but she smelled cherry blossoms on him—it was Jennifer's body wash.

"Let go of me," she said through gritted teeth. "You think this is gonna make me stay?"

"Stay?" Ferdinand chuckled, running his fingers along her wet collar. "I'm just reminding you that we're married."

That night, he left Jennifer behind for the first time and took Lucinda to the villa in the suburbs.

He leaned in, biting her lip with a sharp intensity, yet softened as she resisted. "Stop it, okay? My birthday is coming up. Did you forget you promised to be with me for every single one of them? Lucinda, don't go back on your word. I remember everything."

His lips met hers, full of raging force.

He forced her against the foyer cabinet by the nape. The mix of perfume and cold rain filled her nose, but his tongue felt burning hot as it traced over her bitten lip with a punishing touch.

She shivered all over, not sure if it was from the cold or him.

Just then, Ferdinand sighed and pulled the blanket around her, then gently smoothed her wet, messy hair. "Stop acting up. I'll make sure Jenny moves out tomorrow. It'll just be you and me from now on, okay?"

His voice was low, like he was trying to calm a kid. "I'll be home every day to eat with you and go through the iris sketchbook together. I won't let you cry again."

Stunned, Lucinda looked up at him and caught a glimpse of something serious in his eyes. It was a look she had never seen before, like he had dropped all his fronts and was being plain gentle.

"Really?" Her voice was shaking.

"Yeah, I promise." Lowering his head, he kissed her forehead, his touch soft as his fingers skimmed the cut on her palm.

Three days later, Jennifer's stuff was all gone.

True to his word, Ferdinand canceled all his parties and came home on time.

For a fleeting moment, Lucinda almost felt like they were back to the good old days.

But then one night, she happened to glance at his unlocked phone and saw the chat history. Then she realized Jennifer had to move out because he had bought her a new place. What a sneaky way to keep her on the side!

She wasn't surprised, though. After all, she had never believed him in the first place.

Still, her heart hurt more than ever.

But thankfully, she'd soon leave Ferdinand behind and embrace her freedom.

Lucinda finally got the news from the curator that they were willing to keep her art show going. With this new show, she was telling the art world that she was making a comeback!