Chapter 1

Elora Griffiths was on her way to drop her daughter off at school when her husband's enemies opened fire in the street.

The bodyguard her husband had personally assigned to protect them abandoned the car the instant the shots rang out.

Mother and daughter were hit multiple times, teetering on the brink of death.

Elora frantically called her husband, Rodger Griffiths, but he didn't answer.

Her brother, Hugh Dale, arrived just in time and saved them both.

"How could this happen? Didn't Rodger assign someone to protect you?" Hugh asked.

Elora sobbed uncontrollably, "The bodyguard ran away!"

On the way to the hospital, Elora kept trying Rodger's number, desperate.

One call after another...

Finally, on the ninety-ninth attempt, the line connected. On the other end was the female bodyguard, trembling, her voice barely holding back tears.

"Rodger, it's really not my fault! There were so many assassins. I would've died if I tried to stop them! I was so scared..."

Elora held her breath, waiting for her husband's wrath to thunder down.

But Rodger just sighed.

"Forget it. The important thing is you're safe," he said.

Meanwhile, Elora's daughter took her last breath in her arms.

The pain was suffocating.

She held her daughter close as her body went cold and stiff, teeth gritted in fury, "Hugh, I'm divorcing him! I'll cut off every single arms shipment to the Griffiths family from the largest arms company in Crownport!"

...

Excessive blood loss and overwhelming grief took their toll.

Elora let out a scream before collapsing into unconsciousness.

She dreamt for what seemed like an eternity.

The Dale and Griffiths families had been enemies for generations.

Years ago, Rodger had begged and pleaded with the Dale family endlessly for her hand in marriage, even going so far as to cut off one of his fingers to prove his commitment.

"I, Rodger Griffiths, will love Elora for a lifetime. Should I betray that, may my fate be no better than this finger!"

With a single stroke of the blade, blood spattered in all directions.

Elora still remembered the crimson vividly-but the blood flowing from her daughter Franny now was far more horrifying.

Elora didn't know how long she had slept before she finally woke.

The grief muddled her thoughts. Many things were hazy at first.

She was in her old room at the Dale family home, her pre-marriage room.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw a photo of her, Rodger, and their daughter hanging on the wall.

Her nose stung for no reason, and tears slipped down.

She frowned, confused.

"How... how did I get home? Where's Rodger? Call him, have him come here."

The maid's hand trembled as she poured water, shaking her head nervously.

"He's already been called. Mr. Griffiths said he's busy."

Elora's frown deepened.

Rodger had loved her so fiercely. When he was abroad negotiating billion-dollar projects, she had said she missed him, and he would drop everything, fly back overnight just to hold her. How could she not even reach him now?

Before she could ask again, Hugh strode in, his face grave.

"Elora, Franny's about to be buried. As her mother, you should give her a proper farewell."

A ringing buzz filled Elora's ears.

She couldn't make sense of his words.

"What... what did you say?"

"Franny was too young. She was shot ten times. By the time she reached the hospital... she was already gone."

Memories from before she lost consciousness flooded back.

Gunfire, being shot, the busy tone on the phone, the male bodyguard...

Tears gushed uncontrollably.

Her heart felt as if it had been ripped apart.

"Ah!!!" Elora screamed, her wails echoing through the room.

She threw off the covers and stumbled out, moving so recklessly that her unhealed wounds tore open, blood soaking the bandages. But she didn't even notice the pain.

At the cemetery, the tiny pink urn sat on the table-the color Franny had loved the most.

Elora trembled, reaching out, yet she couldn't bring herself to touch it.

She wished desperately that it was all a dream, that when she woke, Franny would still be laughing, calling her "Mommy."

The urn was gradually buried until it disappeared from sight.

Elora cried until she nearly passed out.

From her daughter's death to cremation to burial, Rodger, the father, had never shown up once.

She remembered the call just before her daughter's last breath.

While mother and daughter teetered on the edge of death, he was flirting over the phone with the bodyguard, Lilah Phillips.

Elora's hands shook as she gave orders, "Prepare the divorce papers. I'm going to Griffiths Group."

She needed to confront him face-to-face. To demand answers.

The car pulled up outside Griffiths Group. Elora ignored the front desk and stormed straight up to the CEO's office on the top floor.

As soon as she pushed open the door, she froze. Inside, Rodger and Lilah were kissing passionately, lost in each other.

"Rodger, Elora called you so many times, and you ignored her to pamper me. Aren't you afraid she'll get mad?" Lilah teased.

Rodger's hand slid inside her shirt, grazing her soft skin.

"You abandoned your post. She's coming for me, asking me to punish you. You really want me to do it? I just can't bear to."

"Don't worry. Let her cool down for a few days, then I'll handle it. I'll make sure she doesn't blame you."

Elora froze at the doorway, her body trembling as if she were holding a block of ice.

Their only daughter had died, she herself had been gravely injured, and the man who claimed he would love her forever was entangled with another woman.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

The man who once loved her enough to sacrifice everything-even his life-was gone, vanished without a trace.

At fifteen, Rodger had spent all his money at an auction to buy the final bracelet just because she said she liked it. She still wore it on her wrist.

At eighteen, when he first brought her home, he defied his parents to protect her when they mistreated her, even threatening to cut ties with the Griffiths family so that his parents would apologize.

At twenty-two, while traveling with her, he had shielded her from an ambush by the Dale family's enemies, taking eighteen stab wounds himself, unconscious for half a month, while she emerged unscathed.

And now, at twenty-seven, he had moved on.

Everything tied to Elora no longer mattered.

Elora rubbed her sore eyes to keep from crying.

She picked up her phone and typed a message, "Recall all arms sold to the Griffiths family now. I will return in a week to take charge."

The home screen still showed the three of them smiling together.

Seeing Franny's bright smile, Elora's chest ached violently.

She hesitated, then changed the wallpaper to a photo of just her and her daughter.

She didn't need that man anymore.

Her daughter was the embodiment of their love.

And now, with her gone, that love felt shattered.

Elora closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, they were filled only with icy resolve.

She booked a flight to Ravencrest seven days later.

This five-year-long absurd marriage needed to come to an end.