Leona Grant was rendered speechless by her calm yet forceful words.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

It was as if scene after scene from the past was lining up to slap him across the face.

He was filled with pain and shame, so much so that he wished he could just disappear.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Standing his ground, he met her emotionless gaze. The corners of his mouth twitched, and after a long moment, all he could manage was a single, terse phrase: "I refuse."

His tone held an almost imperceptible plea. "Annabelle Linton, I don’t want a divorce..."

"Hah..."

Annabelle suddenly let out a low laugh. Her eyes remained downcast, her expression as placid as ever. Her slightly hoarse voice undulated, laced with faint mockery.

"Leona Grant, do you know why I loved you with such undying devotion for all these years?"

Annabelle’s clear, misty eyes fixed on Leona, piercing him like a sword.

She laughed again, then her gaze went unfocused as she stared at the floor. "How would you know? It’s not like you ever needed to..."

Annabelle’s gaze gradually dimmed. "My mother was gone when I was seven. Later, my grandfather passed away too. Then my father brought another woman into our home, and she had a child with her...

Did you think I didn’t know what I would have to face next?

I wasn’t as naive as you might think. Of course I knew. How could I not?

The way that woman looked at me on the very first day, and the first time she pushed me into the water, trying to kill me—that was all it took for me to understand everything.

I cried and told my father, but he just slapped me and said I was being manipulative because I wouldn’t accept the new woman.

I was only ten years old. I didn’t even know what the word ’manipulative’ meant.

After that slap from my father, I gradually learned to hide my pain, to hide my true self. I learned to be invisible, because I knew I didn’t have the luxury of crying and throwing tantrums like a Princess, and I had no one else to rely on.

So, whenever I felt wronged, I never cried. I knew Leona was watching, and I couldn’t let him look down on me. He hated crybabies."

Annabelle looked at Leona, the corners of her lips twitching into another self-deprecating, ironic smile.

"Then I slowly started to pour all my feelings into you. I knew you didn’t like me, but I didn’t want to give up. Why? Because I truly believed I could melt your heart, and also because... you were all I had.

But you were just so cruel. You could leave me all alone on a rainy street, you could humiliate me in front of so many people, you could vent all your frustrations on me whenever you felt like it, you could be with that other woman and treat me with a cold face.

All the power you held in our relationship meant I was always the one on the bottom. So I told myself that loving someone comes at a price. If, at the end of it all, that price bought me your genuine affection, wouldn’t everything else have been worth it?

You liked mango juice, so I’d make it for you fresh. So what if I’m allergic? Medical science has found ways to beat cancer; what’s a small allergy in comparison?

You liked the limited-edition Phantom, so I saved up to buy it for you. I figured if I worked one job, two jobs, ten jobs, worked until I could barely walk, I could afford it. If that wasn’t enough, I could just sell my blood. The human body has plenty of platelets, right? But I knew that if you ever found out it was from me, you’d smash it to pieces.

When you were kidnapped and about to be killed, I took a bullet for you. Why? Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.

When you were in that car crash and needed a transfusion, I gave you my blood. Even if it meant draining me dry to save you, I would have done it. After all, there’s only one of you in the entire world.

And what did you do in return? Hmm?"