Eight Years of Fake Marriage, I Finally Let Go

Terrence immediately pulled Sienna into his arms, his voice dripping with concern.

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

His gaze swept anxiously over her body before he carefully brushed away a smudge of dirt from her calf.

Sienna bit her lip, insisting she was fine, yet her timid eyes kept darting toward me.

After confirming several times that she was unharmed, Terrence finally turned to me, his brows furrowed.

"Denise, you've gone too far! Sienna already apologized. Why won't you let go of the past? Besides, those things back then were done by others—Sienna was at most just a bystander!"

Hearing his biased words, my fists clenched tight. My nails dug so deep into my palms that only the pain kept me from breaking down.

"A bystander?" I scoffed.

Of course Sienna never dirtied her own hands.

As the queen bee, she only needed a single glance, and countless classmates would rush to do her bidding.

Terrence knew the truth—every last detail of it. Yet with just a few words from her lips, he dismissed my years of suffering as if they were nothing.

"Come on, don't fight. It's all in the past."

Standing behind him, Sienna played the part of the peacemaker, her lips speaking persuasion but her face was clouded with mockery.

I swallowed my fury and knelt to gather the scattered belongings on the ground.

She pretended to help, then deliberately stepped on the model plane.

Crack.

The fragile toy shattered into pieces.

Staring at the broken remains, I couldn't hold back anymore.

My hand shot up, ready to slap her—but Terrence was faster. His foot slammed into my shin, sending me crashing into the pile of precious keepsakes I had just gathered.

Sharp plastic pierced my back, pain flaring hot and raw.

"Enough! Why do you keep targeting Sienna? What's the point?"

He didn't notice the blood seeping through my clothes. Didn't notice my lips turn pale, or my trembling frame.

"That was my brother's things!" My voice cracked. "And she destroyed them like that!"

For a moment, Terrence froze. But quickly, his expression hardened again. "It's just a model. I'll buy him a better, more expensive one."

I looked up at the man I had known for seven years—and felt as if I were staring at a stranger.

He had forgotten.

Forgotten that he was the one who gave my brother that model for his birthday. Forgotten that Denver's dream was to become a dashing airline pilot.

But my brother was gone.

A new model plane could never reach his hands again.

The will to argue drained from me. Silent, I turned to leave. But by then, Terrence was already behind the wheel.

Seeing me walk away, he quickly pulled the car in front of me to block my path.

"I told you, stop being stubborn. Look at you—so pale. You must've skipped breakfast again, didn't you? Come on, let's grab lunch together."

I pressed my lips shut. With the divorce certificate already being processed, I didn't bother fighting him.

Numbly, I slid into the backseat.

The passenger seat had long since become Sienna's throne.

Even the car's perfume had changed—sweet, cloying, nauseating.

Inside, only their voices filled the air, her silvery laughter like needles piercing my ears.

In truth, ever since Sienna returned to the country, I hadn't had a single night of peace.

To take my place, she came at me relentlessly. She bribed servants to slip allergens into my food. Sent packages of dead rats, drenched in blood, to our home to terrify me to divorce Terrence immediately.

She even went as far as drugging me unconscious, staged compromising photos, and spread them across social media. Even kidnapped my brother, forcing me to sign a divorce agreement.

Each time, Terrence swore he would make her pay. Each time, he promised me it would never happen again.

And yet, in the end, he climbed into bed with the woman I hated most.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes. The pain in my back made it impossible to focus.

Suddenly, a piercing screech of brakes tore through the air.

My eyes flew open—a massive truck was barreling straight at us from the side.