In five years of marriage, Solana had been "caught cheating" by her husband, Wilbert, a total of ninety-nine times.
On their wedding night, paparazzi photographed her pressed close to a male model, dancing in the neon glow of a bar.
On the day of their family banquet, headlines exploded: she had reportedly spent the night outdoors with three foreign men.
During their honeymoon, she was accused of an eight-hour tryst with Wilbert's own half-brother.
...
And today—supposedly their fifth wedding anniversary—the top story dominating every major media outlet was: [Mrs. Patel caught in an hours-long steamy car encounter on the street!]
Camera flashes devoured the man standing before them.
"Mr. Patel, the scandals involving your wife are causing quite an uproar. What do you think of her... activities?"
Not a hint of anger crossed Wilbert's face. His expression was as calm as someone commenting on the weather.
"What does that have to do with me?"
On the other side of the screen, Solana nearly crushed her phone.
There it was again.
The same line she had heard ninety-nine times.
Five years of resentment burst at once. She stormed straight to Patel Corporation's president's office, kicked the door open, and slammed the interview video onto his desk.
"Wilbert! Do you have nothing to say at all?!"
Her voice cracked with raw, frantic fury. But from beginning to end, Wilbert did not spare her even a glance.
Only after a long moment did he speak, unhurriedly. "It's just sleeping around. Why make a fuss?"
Just?
Solana almost laughed through the ache in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but then, his phone rang.
"What?!"
The indifference on his face vanished. For the first time in years, his voice carried unmistakable anger.
"Imogen stayed alone with another man for a minute and still hasn't come out?!"
"Watch her for me. I'm coming now."
He rushed out without a backward look.
Stunned, Solana spotted his sports car streaking out of the garage—and hurriedly followed.
The car screeched to a stop outside a café. Wilbert strode in, face dark as a brewing storm.
Less than a minute later, he emerged—carrying a young woman in his arms.
When Solana saw the girl's face—a deafening shock thundered through her mind. Her scalp tightened; her whole body trembled violently.
It was her—Imogen, Wilbert's former sponsored student.
Rumor had it she confessed to him right after graduation and was unsurprisingly rejected.
Heartbroken, she left the country to study abroad.
And at that same time... Wilbert married Solana.
A month ago, Imogen had suddenly returned and—out of nowhere—entered the Patel Corporation's upper management.
The social circles had been buzzing nonstop.
Some said Wilbert intended to hide her away as a kept beauty.
Solana was worried, just a little. But he had brushed her concerns aside with a casual, "I only see her as a younger sister. Don't think so lowly of us."
She'd believed him.
Because a man like Wilbert never bothered to lie.
Not until now—when she saw the truth with her own eyes.
The girl in his arms blushed furiously, pounding her fists against him.
"Let go of me! Don't touch—mmph!"
Wilbert silenced her with a forceful kiss.
Watching them, Solana felt her heart clamped by an iron fist, leaving her breathless.
Five years of marriage and they had never even held hands.
Yet here—barely a minute had passed—and this rigid, austere man was kissing another woman on the street with reckless fervor.
Ten whole minutes later, they finally pulled apart reluctantly.
His fingers traced the girl's brows, his gaze filled with warning.
"Why can't you ever behave?"
Imogen huffed, pouting and turning her face away. "Wilbert, you're impossible! Your possessiveness isn't normal!"
"When I added a guy as a friend—you broke his leg. I say a few more words to my senior—he gets blacklisted from the entire industry. I have coffee with a childhood friend—and you bankrupt his entire family!"
"Is that necessary? Besides you're already married! Why don't you watch your wife instead?!"
"Are you jealous?" He chuckled lowly and pulled her tighter into his arms. "Baby, I do all of this because I love you too much."
"As for Solana—" His tone chilled, dripping with casual contempt. "My family forced that marriage on me. She's nothing but a decoration. Hardly a wife."
Just a handful of words—sharp as poisoned needles—stabbed straight into Solana's heart.
What she thought was a marriage had been nothing but a transaction to him.
Five years of devotion was dismissed as an ornament. Every syllable engraved itself deep like frostbite.
Back then, the Patel family was in turmoil, and his inheritance was hanging by a thread. No wealthy lady dared take the risk. Only Solana starved herself for a week to force her father to agree to the marriage.
Everyone warned her Wilbert was not a good man, that she would only suffer. But she had believed that even a stone would warm with enough sincerity. That someday, patience would give way to moonlight.
Five years she endured. Five years she tried. Wilbert never once stepped into their marital bedroom.
Until despair finally drove her to remember a friend's cynical words: No man could tolerate being cuckolded.
A crazy thought quickly formed in her mind, and she began to "cheat."
From then on, her name was dragged through the mud—slut, whore, disgrace.
Even then... Wilbert never once looked her way.
She consoled herself that he was simply cold, born without jealousy or desire. But seeing him now—this man whose possessiveness toward Imogen was absolute—Solana finally understood.
He wasn't emotionless. He simply didn't care about her.
A sour ache surged through her chest, quickly swallowed by blazing fury.
She sacrificed her reputation. Offered the Scott family's billions in support.
All of it—just to pave the throne for someone else?!
If they refused to let her live well... then none of them would!
She blinked back the heat in her eyes, her expression turning cold as she strode straight toward them.
