Chapter 3

After hanging up, Natalie slid down against the cold wall, utterly drained. She hugged her knees and stayed there for a long time, until she finally took a deep breath and forced herself to stand. She pulled herself together and called a few of her closest friends out. Shopping spree. Retail therapy. Spa day. Then, straight to the hottest club in South City. Her friends watched her—still dazzling and beautiful as ever, but somehow different now. One of them couldn’t help but ask worriedly, “Natalie, the Fletcher family has such strict family rules. You haven’t been out like this in forever. If they find out you’re here, what’ll you do?” Natalie downed her shot in one gulp. The burn scorched her throat, and it seared her heart—a heart that had already been shattered a thousand times over. She gazed out at the crowd on the dance floor and, as if it were nothing, dropped a bomb: “They won’t find out. I’m divorcing Ethan.” “What?!” Her friend almost knocked over her drink. “But… didn’t you always love him most? You went through so much just to win him over. How—how could you…” “Not anymore,” Natalie cut her off. “I won’t ever love him again.” The moment she finished, the club’s pounding music cut off with a jolt. Every light snapped on, blindingly bright. Dozens of bodyguards in black suits poured in, moving with silent, practiced coordination as they cleared the place out. “All unrelated guests, please leave immediately.” Amid complaints and confusion, guests were escorted out one by one. Even Natalie’s friends were politely but firmly shown to the door by the security team. In an instant, the bar was deserted—eerily silent. The Fletcher family’s butler walked straight over to Natalie. He gave a polite little bow, but his eyes were cold and his tone left no room for argument. “Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Margaret requests your presence.” Natalie lounged on the couch, swirling the drink in her glass, not even bothering to look up. “No. Tell her I’m about to have nothing to do with Ethan Fletcher. The Fletcher family’s rules don’t concern me anymore.” Without a word, the butler gestured. A bodyguard moved in soundlessly and, with a single precise strike to the back of Natalie’s neck, knocked her out cold. Her world went black, and she lost all consciousness. When she came to, she found her hands bound behind her. She was forced to her knees on the hard floor in the main hall of the Fletcher family—a grand, oppressive place that sucked the air from her lungs. Margaret Fletcher sat at the head of the hall in a high-backed authority chair, regal and commanding in a dark purple gown, her hair perfectly done, her gaze sharp as a hawk’s. “Natalie Bennett, just how wild are you planning to get?!” Margaret snapped. “All these years, not the slightest news from your womb. We told you to do IVF, but you refused. Not only that, you smashed up the hospital? And now you’re running off to clubs like this! You’re the daughter of a top family—this is the best you can do? Even Vivian, who came from a middle-class background, has more class than you!” Natalie stayed on her knees, listening as Margaret, compared her to Vivian. She felt a stabbing pain inside. So this was Ethan’s plan? Turn her—his legal wife—into nothing but a backdrop to show off Vivian’s gentleness and virtue? What a joke. She was Natalie Bennett, South City’s most dazzling and uninhibited rose. So many men would do anything to be with her—and yet, in Ethan’s eyes, she still wasn’t enough. Instead, she had to be put through all this, all for that woman? Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Natalie forced herself to look up. Her face was utterly blank as she asked, “Where’s Ethan? I want to see him.” Margaret gave a harsh snort. “Ethan is busy with work. He doesn’t have time for you! You’re only acting out because he’s too soft on you! He’s the best heir our family has. Instead of helping him, you cause trouble, distracting him from his work. When have you ever done anything for him?” For him? Natalie almost laughed. She’d spent years worrying about him, afraid to make him choose between her and his family. She’d done her best to fit their mold, tried to become the perfect Mrs. Fletcher—even when it meant losing herself completely. And where had that gotten her? Nothing but the punchline to a cruel joke. Now that she didn’t love him anymore, who could control her? “I want to see Ethan!” she repeated, struggling to stand up—only to be pinned back down by the guards behind her. “You’re out of control!” Margaret thundered. “Take her to the family chapel and make her kneel! She stays there until she admits her mistake!” “I won’t kneel!” Natalie fought back, hands and feet tied, ramming into anyone who tried to come close—throwing, kicking, sending anything she could crashing to the floor. Porcelain smashed, furniture toppled. The chaos only grew. “Disgraceful! Absolutely disgraceful!” Margaret shook with rage as the mess piled up. When her favorite antique vase went crashing down and shattered, she nearly exploded. “So you refuse to cooperate? Fine! Drag her out, enforce the family discipline! She can be punished until she’s willing to do IVF!” A few hulking men dragged Natalie to a side hall for her punishment. The heavy stick cracked down on her back, her legs, again and again. The burning pain instantly spread through her, cold sweat soaking her clothes. Still, she clenched her teeth and refused to make a sound—her eyes stubborn and fierce, like a wild animal that wouldn’t be tamed. She held out as long as she could. When the pain finally went beyond what any human could take, her world went black and she passed out. When Natalie came to, she was face-down on a hospital bed, the sharp smell of antiseptic in the air. Her wounds had been cleaned and treated, but every movement sent a dull, aching throb through her body. Through the cracked door, she could just make out Ethan Fletcher and Vivian Grant’s voices murmuring outside. “Ethan, thank you so much for helping me,” Vivian’s voice was shaky, full of relief and gratitude. “But… for your mother not to be mad at me for breaking the statue, you let Natalie take the punishment instead… You know what she’s like. When she wakes up, won’t she blame me?” Ethan’s voice remained as calm and cool as ever. “Don’t worry. With me here, she won’t do anything to you.” He paused, then went on, “Natalie’s temperament is wild, but she isn’t unreasonable. These past years, it’s Lucas who was in the wrong—he took things too far and let you suffer. As his brother, I failed to keep him in line. I owe it to you to look after you now.” Vivian’s eyes filled with tears, and she finally broke down in soft sobs. For the first time, a trace of genuine sympathy flickered in Ethan’s usually steady, cold gaze. He pulled out a perfectly folded gray handkerchief and handed it to her. “Don’t cry.” His voice lowered, carrying a warmth Natalie had never heard from him before. “If you have any trouble at the Fletchers from now on, just come to me. I’ll protect you.”