Third Person's POV
After hanging up the phone, Henrietta buried her child.
She then spent another three days arranging a simple funeral.
Outside the window, the wind rustled softly, pulling her thoughts back to that rainy night five years ago.
Fresh out of graduate school, she had successfully landed the position of Raphael’s chief secretary.
Yet on her very first day, she was forced by a client to drink excessively.
When she was alone and helpless, Raphael suddenly stood up.
Under countless shocked gazes, he calmly removed his suit jacket and, without any warning, swung a hard punch straight into the client’s face.
Then, in the coldest tone imaginable, he said the warmest words she had ever heard.
“No matter how far our company has fallen, we will never rely on our secretaries drinking with clients just to secure cooperation.”
It was as if a savior had descended—walking straight into her heart.
Always someone who loved fiercely and hated just as boldly, she pursued Raphael with unrestrained passion. Her feelings were loud, intense, and unapologetic.
But to everyone else, it looked like a mouse dreaming of being a lion.
As for Raphael, he never responded even once.
After clinging on for two long years, just as she finally decided to give up and resign, Raphael suddenly chased her to the airport.
No flowers.
No ring.
Just one cold sentence.
“Weren’t you chasing me? Then marry me.”
She was so overwhelmed with happiness at that moment that she nearly fainted. She truly believed the hell finally froze over—and without a second thought, she went with him to get their marriage licence.
Until their wedding night.
The man who never touched alcohol was drunk and spoke the truth at last.
“Annelise… I miss you so much, I’m going crazy. If only you weren’t my adopted sister.”
Henrietta picked up the photo he had dropped onto the floor.
The girl in it looked gentle and delicate, her features bearing a faint resemblance to Henrietta’s own.
And yet, Henrietta knew very clearly.
Between her and Annelise, she was nothing more than a disposable substitute.
Three years.
Even a stone should have warmed by then.
Yet Henrietta couldn’t stop herself from hoping—year after year.
But in the end, what she got was her child’s corpse and a single message from Raphael.
[Do you know what you did wrong?]
Henrietta stared at the message, then instinctively tapped into his profile.
In his posts, she saw that for the three days of the funeral, Raphael and Annelise had enjoyed themselves for three days straight.
While her child’s ashes were laid to rest, they were partying all night on a yacht, declaring that when they died, their ashes would be scattered into the sea—chasing freedom together.
While prayers were offered for the child’s soul, they walked hand in hand into a church, asking for blessings of health and a carefree life.
While she kept vigil for her child, Raphael lit three thousand candles.
Every single prayer was for Annelise.
It felt as if something sharp stabbed straight into her heart, dense pain spreading from her limbs into her blood.
Eventually, Henrietta decisively blocked both of them from her feed and contacted a lawyer to prepare a divorce agreement.
When Raphael returned home, what he saw was Henrietta sitting cold-faced on the sofa with a divorce agreement laid neatly on the table.
“Raphael, let’s get a divorce,” she emotionlessly said and looked up at him with fury and disappointment tightly suppressed in her eyes.
He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he gently comforted Annelise first.
“You go upstairs first, take a shower, and get some sleep.”
Only after making sure Annelise had returned to her room did he stroll over to Henrietta, lazily leaning against the sofa.
“What are you trying to stir up this time?”
“I want a divorce,” Henrietta straightforwardly answered and pushed the agreement toward him, her expression calm and unyielding.
Raphael laughed in anger.
“Henrietta, think it through. Where do you think you can go after leaving me?”
He was arrogant to the bone, utterly convinced of his own superiority.
Assuming she was playing hard to get, he signed the divorce papers without a second thought and said, “Once you’ve cooled off, go apologize. Don’t keep Annelise waiting too long.”
With that, he got up and went upstairs—just like always—to coax Annelise to sleep.
Listening to the intimate murmurs drifting down from above, Henrietta let out a self-mocking laugh and sent the signed agreement to her lawyer without the slightest hesitation.
As long as she made it through the one-month cooling-off period, she and Raphael would disappear from each other’s lives forever.
With that thought, Henrietta—who had been holding herself together for three years—finally relaxed. For the first time in ages, she slept until she woke naturally.
After waking up, she went to the company, intending to submit her resignation to HR.
Instead, she saw Annelise sitting at her desk, directing bodyguards as they packed up her belongings.
“What are you doing?” Henrietta demanded as she rushed forward to stop them.
Annelise smiled sweetly and answered, “Henrietta, I was so bored at home. Raphael said I could come to the company and be his secretary.”
The smile hid a blade, and it made Henrietta sick to her stomach.
But what disgusted her even more was how easily Raphael had replaced her. What would people in the industry think of her now?
Before she could speak, Annelise leaned close to her ear and laughed softly. “That little bastard is dead anyway. You must be heartbroken, right? Then just stay home and rest. I’ll take very good care of Raphael for you.”
Each word was like an ice blade dipped in poison.
Quickly, Henrietta felt her blood surge violently. In rage, she raised her hand to slap her, but her wrist was suddenly seized in a crushing grip.
“Henrietta! What the fuck are you trying to do now?!” Raphael roared.
