After Her Fake Death, His Regret Turned Into Redemption

Even though Cedric later earned a fortune, the ring held a meaning that couldn’t be matched. For both of them, it was irreplaceable. He wouldn’t even consider resizing it, let alone replacing it. He wore it constantly, never taking it off, not while bathing, not even while sleeping.

“Dione,” Ophelia began with a sly smirk, “Master said you don’t own a single lace-trimmed piece of lingerie. I didn’t think you’d be so… old-fashioned.”

She unbuttoned her top deliberately, exposing faint marks on her skin and the delicate lace peeking underneath.

“Do you know how thrilled Master was when he saw me in this? These marks? They’re all his doing. You can’t even imagine that when he’s with me, he’s like a ravenous wolf.”

Her words were venomous, each one a poisoned dagger plunging deep into Dione’s heart. Her hands balled into fists, her entire body trembling as waves of pain and anger surged through her.

Unable to restrain her fury, Dione struck out, her fists and slaps raining down mercilessly on Ophelia. The younger woman was left battered and crying for mercy. If the neighbors hadn’t rushed over after hearing the chaos, Dione might have beaten her to death.

Ophelia hadn’t expected the frail-looking Dione to possess such strength, but the outcome suited her plans perfectly. Covered in bruises, she went straight to Cedric, her face twisted in pitiful complaint.

After Ophelia left, Dione’s rage turned inward, erupting into a storm of destruction. She smashed everything within reach, leaving the house in shambles. She was in the middle of cutting up their wedding photos when Cedric returned.

He opened the door to chaos, shattered glass and broken fragments scattered across the floor like remnants of a hurricane. In the center of it all stood Dione, scissors in hand, blood dripping from her fingers onto the gleaming blade. Her disheveled hair framed her wild, unhinged expression.

Cedric panicked as his eyes darted across the wreckage. Stepping carefully over the shards, he approached her, his tone soft yet desperate. "Dione, did you misunderstand something? I accidentally left my ring at the studio, and Ophelia brought it over because she thought I’d be worried."

“She’s just a kind-hearted girl.”

Dione let out a bitter laugh, her voice dripping with mockery. “Kind-hearted? How? By being generous enough to care for someone else’s husband?”

Cedric stiffened, momentarily caught off guard, before moving closer. Gently, he reached for the scissors in her hand, his voice laced with forced calm. “I only see her as a disciple. Don’t overthink it.”

“A beloved disciple who’s opened your eyes to a new world, isn’t that right?” Dione’s words sliced sharper than any blade. “Cedric, let’s get a divorce.”

Panic flashed across his face as he immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if afraid she might vanish. “No. I won’t divorce you. Not in this lifetime.”

“I swear, I’ll only ever love you.”

His words flowed like a stream of empty promises, each one finding a way to shield Ophelia. Dione, too drained to argue over whatever twisted narrative Ophelia had spun, pushed him away with visible disgust before collapsing onto the couch. Her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion.

“Fine. No divorce.”

She no longer cared. What difference did it make? Her time was slipping away. Once she chose euthanasia, Cedric would be free, widowed, not divorced, and unburdened to remarry.

Cedric called the family doctor to tend to Dione’s wounds while he quietly set about cleaning the chaos she had left in her wake. She watched him with hollow eyes, unable to reconcile how the man who once adored her with such intensity could now feel like a stranger.

Ophelia’s cruel words echoed in her mind, a relentless torment that sent tremors through her body. Her hands shook uncontrollably as her breathing quickened.

Noticing her distress, Cedric paused mid-cleanup and hurried to retrieve her medication. “Did you forget to take your pills?”

Dione’s fury surged. She slapped the bottle from his hand, the sound sharp and echoing in the tense silence. Her venomous glare pierced through him as she spat, “Cedric, you disgust me.”

Cedric stood frozen, a helpless expression clouding his face. Assuming her anger stemmed from the ring, he tried to soothe her with a forced lightness.

“I’m sorry, my dear wife. Next time I lose my ring, you can cut off my hand, okay?”