Her voice was clear and crisp. He didn't believe she would utter such words. She was supposed to simply accept his apology, giving him a way out, even though he had cheated on her—he'd already said so much. She shouldn't have let him kneel publicly. Did he not know kneeling wounded a man's pride?

His silence and anger remained in her memory. She recalled her imprisonment in her previous life, locked in a damp, dark room, starved for three days and nights, denied even water. Humans possess a survival instinct. Even after such victimization, she clung to life, driven by a desire for revenge—revenge for her family and the cruelty she'd endured. Therefore, when he appeared in the cell, she begged for water. What did he do?

He stood condescendingly before her, with Sarah Collins, the woman he loved most, and said, "You get down on your knees and beg me. Beg me to give you some water."

She rose from the floor, then slowly knelt. She held a single belief: survival. If she lived, she would avenge her family and exact her revenge. Yet, he showed no pity, laughing wildly, contempt in his eyes—a look she would never forget. He squatted, pinching her chin with such force that tears welled uncontrollably.

"Hannah," he sneered, "haven't you always been so noble, so forbearing? Why didn't you present yourself as the princess of the Cooper family, displaying your nobleness and elegance? How could you lose your dignity so quickly for survival? Do you know you've robbed me of the pleasure of torturing you? Without that pleasure, you'll die even faster!"

She endured his cruelty as if it were happening anew. He gave her no water, spitting on the ground, saying disgustingly, "If you want to live, lick my saliva!"

She regained her composure, regarding him coldly—this man who had treated her with such unbelievable brutality. She understood his thoughts perfectly. She had been soft-hearted, easily compromising, falling for his sweet words. She'd believed their relationship was reciprocal, that his kindness mirrored hers. How foolish she had been.

Thankfully, God had given her a second chance. She would not waste it. A cold light gleamed in her eyes. She stared at him impassively, remaining stiff. He knew she wouldn't easily compromise. He assumed no woman would accept the infidelity of a man she loved so deeply. Hannah was a woman with emotions; her intense love had driven her actions.

He gritted his teeth and knelt, heavily, before her. In his mind, he vowed to make her life a living hell, to repay her humiliation tenfold.

In the wedding hall, his kneeling silenced the whispering crowd. They were stunned, expecting anything but this from him, a man who always exuded superiority. Even in his contrition, they felt no forgiveness, no sympathy, disbelief replacing their expectations. All eyes remained fixed on them, eager to witness her response; after all, rumors of her all-consuming love for him abounded. They anticipated her forgiveness.

She wouldn't compromise. Compromise was impossible. She simply watched him kneel, humiliated before everyone.

"Charles," she began, "I've loved you for many years."

He shifted, agitated. He knew she couldn't have simply abandoned him; her actions stemmed from the depth of her love. He would make her life a living hell, he vowed silently. His face, however, remained a mask of devotion.

"Me too, Hannah," he rushed to say.

"But from now on, I don't love you anymore," she declared.

His face hardened. He couldn't believe it. How could she not love him? Years of devotion, his betrayal notwithstanding, her profound love—it was inconceivable she would renounce him. He stared, convinced he'd misheard.

Ignoring his emotions, she continued, her face impassive, "I can't tolerate your infidelity."

Panic set in as he pleaded, "I was drunk. Trust me, I won't drink again. I swear, I'll never betray you again!" He knew the consequences of her unforgiveness.

She sneered, "There's only no infidelity, or countless infidelities."

"I swear, I swear I'll never cheat again!" he repeated.

"This is the end of our wedding," she stated decisively, turning and walking away without hesitation.

He seized her, rising. "Please don't go! I beg you, I can't lose you!" He continued his charade, attempting to sway her.

She had reached her limit. He had lost face; she had successfully broken the engagement. Oscar Walker could wait.

She struggled against his grasp, but he held on tighter, knowing her departure would end his wedding and ruin his image. He wouldn't let her leave so easily. Her face darkened. She turned, her eyes blazing, delivering a stinging slap across his face.