Chapter 1
Two incidents prompted Melody Smith's decision to divorce. First, Christopher Fuller's childhood crush had returned, prompting him to spend tens of millions of dollars on a lavish homecoming cruise, even spending two days and nights with her aboard. The media widely reported their impending reunion. Second, Melody had agreed to her senior partner's request to return to their jointly founded company as director, a position she would assume in a month.
Naturally, no one considered her desires. Christopher viewed her merely as a wife who had married into the Fuller family. Unbeknownst to anyone, Melody secretly erased all traces of her presence from the Fuller residence over the past two years and purchased a one-way ticket. In three days, she would sever all ties and never again cross paths with Christopher.
“Bring two portions of hangover remedy,” a message flashed on her phone screen. Melody stared, her eyes narrowing as she clenched her fist. It was 9:40 PM. Christopher was attending Cynthia York's homecoming party. In the past, he would never have asked her to deliver it, deeming her presence embarrassing; he barely acknowledged her existence. Previously, such a request would have been interpreted as a public acknowledgment of their marriage; now…
Her gaze fell on the word "two." This was all for Cynthia. He only dared acknowledge his despised, embarrassing "wife" in the presence of his true love.
Melody went to the kitchen to prepare the remedy. Twenty-nine days remained until the end of her agreement with Daniel Fuller, Christopher's grandfather. She checked the countdown timer on her phone, a promise of freedom. Two years by his side, and she hadn't won his heart. She had expected too much; she couldn't continue loving him. This month would be her last fulfilling her duty as his "wife."
The remedy simmered. She excelled at making it, having prepared it for Christopher for two years. A calm sorrow washed over her.
Half an hour later, the thermal flask, containing two portions of remedy, was sealed. Melody hailed a cab for the Luxe Hotel. In the car, she reread a morning message from an unknown number: "Mel, do you still remember me? I’m Cynthia. I’m back. Glad to see you again. Although you snatched Christopher from me, we’re still best friends. Let’s have a meal tonight."
Christopher hadn't mentioned the party; Melody only learned of it through Cynthia's "invitation." She sneered at the message's feigned magnanimity and forgiveness. Had she snatched Christopher? Daniel had been the one preventing Cynthia and Christopher from being together, even paying Cynthia ten million dollars to end their relationship before she went abroad. When had Melody interfered?
Melody admitted her own greed, but she had never actively intervened. Yet, she doubted Cynthia's genuine generosity. Once, Melody would have seen Cynthia as kind and naive. High school had taught her otherwise; she'd been betrayed, bullied, and left alone, later discovering Cynthia's involvement.
Their high school friends would be at the party, including some of her former "best friends"— undoubtedly siding with Cynthia. Melody avoided the gathering; it felt insincere, and she detested her old classmates. She planned to leave after delivering the remedy.
Arriving at the private room, she took a deep breath and knocked. Cynthia, in a white gown, opened the door. “Mel, you’re here! Everyone’s waiting.” Cynthia smiled brightly, her delicate makeup giving her a princess-like air. The necklace she wore, Sapphire Waves, was the one Melody had seen at home— Christopher had bid on it the day before, a gift for Cynthia.
“No. I’m only here to deliver the remedy,” Melody replied apathetically.
“Mel, have we grown apart? I told you I wouldn’t blame you for taking Christopher.” Cynthia bit her lip, feigning distress.
Melody, weary of Cynthia’s act, turned to enter the room. Cynthia stopped her, placing a hand on the flask and subtly moving her thumb. “If you really don’t want to join us, I’ll bring this to Christopher.”
Melody frowned, questioning Cynthia's willingness to let her go, but handed over the flask. As she did, Cynthia fumbled, dropping it. The lid flew open, spilling the hot liquid.
Cynthia shrieked, "Ah! It hurts! My legs!" Her scream drew attention. Christopher strode toward them, Cynthia sobbing. He removed his suit to wipe the liquid from her legs, chiding, “Melody, how did you hold the flask? You can’t even handle such a simple task!”
“I—” Melody began, but Cynthia interrupted, “Christopher, don’t blame Mel. I didn’t hold it properly.”
Christopher examined the flask. “The lid’s undamaged. Did Cynthia drop it, or did you deliberately open it?”
Melody, stunned, retorted, “I didn’t open it! How else would I have brought it here?”
“You did it on purpose. There’s no point in explaining,” Christopher said coldly. To him, Melody was a gold digger, manipulating Daniel; she had even forced Cynthia’s departure. Why would he believe her?
Christopher tossed the lid aside. As he moved to help Cynthia, he noticed a large red welt on Melody's foot—her injury was far more serious than Cynthia's. He frowned.
He remained silent, his thoughts racing. Even with Melody's more serious injury, he felt she deserved it— retribution for harming others.
Cynthia clung to Christopher, embarrassed yet worried. “Christopher, Mel…”
“Don’t worry about her. She won’t die. She’ll go to the hospital herself,” Christopher replied coldly. “You're a model; a leg injury is a big deal.”