Chapter 3

Christian and I entered a deep, suffocating cold war.

He left early every morning and returned late into the night, sleeping in the guest bedroom and refusing to speak a single word to me.

Every night, I watched the floating comments deliver live updates on his life.

He had dinner with Sierra again. They went to a private cinema together. They visited a VIP lounge at an amusement park...

Each update felt like a dull blade, scraping back and forth against my heart day after day.

Trapped inside that cavernous, empty mansion, I felt like a flower slowly withering away in the dark.

I thought to myself that maybe it was finally time for us to end things.

Yet whenever I closed my eyes, all I saw was Christian.

I remembered his flushed, flustered face on our very first date, desperately trying to play it cool.

I remembered how pale and frantic he looked when I was hospitalized with a deadly fever, staying by my bedside for twenty-four hours straight without sleep.

I remembered his sheer, uncontainable ecstasy when I said yes to his proposal.

And I remembered his solemn, tearful vows at the altar.

The word "divorce" kept catching in my throat. I couldn't force it past my lips.

In the end, I was the one who broke first.

I broke down in tears, telling him I was wrong, begging him to stop shutting me out.

The first night Christian moved back into our master bedroom, he pinned me beneath his heavy frame, taking me roughly throughout the night.

As the first light of dawn broke through the blinds, he gently nipped at my earlobe, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Good girl, Rosalie. Stop throwing fits, okay?"

"No one could ever replace you."

"I love you."

Did Christian truly love me?

It felt like he did.

After our reconciliation, I became remarkably obedient. I stopped talking back, and I stopped asking questions about his schedule.

In return, Christian went out of his way to spoil me in the most public ways possible.

If I offhandedly mentioned that a necklace was pretty, he would bid millions to outbid everyone else at the auction.

If I craved a certain fruit, he would charter a private jet to fly it in fresh from overseas.

He showered me in custom haute couture gowns, parading me on his arm at every high-society gala in the city.

Our romance became the talk of the town.

The billionaire heir who fell for Cinderella, treating her like an absolute princess after marriage.

Countless socialites envied me, hated me, mocked me, and looked down on me.

At one lavish cocktail party, a bold, ambitious young woman practically threw herself into Christian's arms.

He pushed her aside with practiced chivalry.

Displaying his wedding band, he offered a warm, deeply affectionate smile that declared his devotion to his wife.

The young woman grew even more infatuated with him.

She turned to glare at me with bitter jealousy, hissing under her breath.

"Mrs. Knight is getting older by the day. It's only a matter of time before he tosses you out!"

My phone was flooded with hundreds of harassing messages every single day.

Sierra Vance was among the senders.

She texted me claiming that she and Christian were childhood sweethearts with matching pedigrees, and that their spark was reigniting.

She said it was only a matter of time before he realized what he truly wanted, discarded me, and chose her instead.

Christian saw those texts on my phone once. He simply chuckled softly.

He pulled me into his arms, patting my head like one would comfort a pet cat.

"Silly girl. There are thousands of women out there, but I only have eyes for you."

Such beautiful, romantic words.

I should have been thrilled. I should have been completely satisfied.

I should have held my head high, proud and eternally grateful.

So why did everything feel so sickeningly wrong?

Late one night, I got out of bed to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen.

As I passed Christian's private study, I overheard him chatting casually with a business associate.

"Mr. Knight, the rumors are true—you really do treasure your wife like she's a precious gem."

"Though I have to admit, Mrs. Knight is so sweet, innocent, and pure. She definitely deserves to be spoiled. Even I find myself captivated by her. I don't suppose you'd be willing to part with your treasure and let me borrow her for a couple of nights?"

The associate spoke in a sleazy, bantering tone, clearly framing it as locker-room humor.

Christian used to despise jokes like that.

Years ago, he had beaten a guy half to death and used his legal team to throw him behind bars just for making a suggestive comment about me.

Yet now, Christian simply chuckled along with him.

"Hand over twenty percent of your company's equity, and I might consider it."