Chapter 4

Natalie's pale skin flushed instantly. She stared at Oliver in disbelief. "I can't believe you slapped me. Oliver, have you forgotten what you said at our wedding?" She remembered it clearly. He kneeled on one knee, his eyes red as he proclaimed, "Natalie, from this day forward, I will love you, respect you, and protect you every single day. I will never let you be hurt." And now, he had slapped her and shattered that vow completely. She had been naive, thinking that she might still hold a small place in his heart after ten years. Or maybe Natalie had just been fooled by his carefully staged tenderness, and the man standing before her now was the real him—a heartless, cold-blooded man. Oliver's expression shifted, finally settling into a cold, stern glare. "You exposed Linda's scar, so you should face the consequences. "This 200 thousand dollars will count as Matthew's medical expenses. That's it. If you continue to be wasteful like this, I'll have to reconsider our marriage seriously." "There's no need to reconsider." She shot him down in her heart. "I'm leaving anyway." Then, she went into her room. From outside came bursts of laughter and cheerful voices. Natalie called her friend, who happened to be a lawyer. "Please draft a divorce agreement for me as soon as possible. I've already sent you all the documents." After she hung up, the bedroom door suddenly opened. Oliver appeared behind her. "Honey, let me see your face." He looked nothing like the enraged man earlier. It was as if everything that had just happened was a dream. He was once again the perfect husband she had known. However, Natalie knew better that it was all a lie, so she dodged his touch. His hand froze in midair. "I'm sorry that I lost my temper earlier. I shouldn't have hit you. Please don't be angry, okay?" They had argued before, and she had always forgiven him when he lowered his head and spoke softly. It was different this time. Natalie answered instead, "Don't touch me." Oliver pressed his lips together. He was a little surprised that she was acting unusually off tonight. "Fine. Take the night to cool down on your own, then." His patience had run out. He set down a glass of milk and walked away. It was part of her nightly routine. For a fleeting moment, Natalie felt a pang of doubt—maybe Oliver did care for her, even just a little. However, almost against her own instincts, she didn't drink the milk this time. … In the early hours of the morning, she clearly heard Oliver, who shared a separate bedroom, open his door. The walls weren't well insulated. She could clearly hear the two of them outside, kissing each other with desperate urgency. "Oliver, you're still so impatient, even after eight years," Linda whispered. Oliver replied, "It's all because of you. Lucky for us, though. This sleeping pill worked so well that she never noticed anything. Come on. Let's go to the bedroom." All night, Natalie listened to Linda's coquettish murmurs and his soft, tender whispers. … Dawn came, and she had not slept a wink. She looked at the glass of milk on the bedside table. Numbly, she got up and poured it into a flowerpot. At that moment, the last trace of love vanished completely. Natalie made breakfast. Just as she was finishing, Linda emerged from the guest room with a lace nightgown, the passionate red marks on her shoulders openly visible. She sat down in front of Natalie with a smug look. "You didn't drink that milk last night, did you?"