My Ex-Husband Ordered Me to Die on the Battlefield

On the evening Amanda returned, there was a charity dinner in the circle that required Horace to attend.

Before the Rolls-Royce drove to the banquet venue in the evening, it first stopped at a styling salon.

Amanda got out of the car to greet the guest. Godfery, dressed in an expensive custom-made suit, but stood there motionless.

The woman opened the back door awkwardly: “Horace, look...”

But before she could finish, Horace got out of the car without a word and sat directly next to the driver in the front passenger seat.

The charity dinner was held at a mansion estate. In the first-floor banquet hall, the light and shadow intertwined under the enamel-painted chandeliers.

When Godfery appeared holding Amanda's hand, he instantly became the center of attention, and a group of young men from the circle gathered around them.

“Godfery, Ms. Young is so kind to you! You're the first person in the world to wear this custom-made suit!”

“Yeah, I heard that she was abroad a few days ago and made a bet with a wealthy Parisian businessman to race him for this handmade suit, and she even injured her arm in the process?”

So she was injured while trying to get the handmade suit for Godfery...

As they chatted, Godfery sighed helplessly, “Don’t mention it. I felt so sorry for her—she bled so much. But I just said I liked it, and she...”

“Haha, she clearly loves you so much she’d risk her life for you.”

The others chimed in with flattery, and someone sneered at Horace: “Some people wear five-year-old outdated rags and think they've defied fate. In reality, they're not even worthy of tying our Master's shoes!”

Horace glanced at his black suit, which Amanda had had someone prepare for him.

But he forced himself to endure it, clenching his fists tightly.

Until the banquet began, there was a charity auction segment in the middle. Though they were just trinkets Godfery looked down on, Amanda kept bidding generously to save his face.

The only item was a men’s ring, but she was too late, and it was snatched up by another bidder.

But Godfery just had to have it. He frowned at Amanda: “Amanda, I really like that ring. If I don’t get it, I won’t be able to eat tonight.”

With just one sentence, Amanda approached the buyer after the auction ended: “Miss Bell, name your price. Whether it's ten times or a hundred times the original price, I have no objections.”

The buyer burst into laughter: “Ms. Young, you should know my rules. I don't care about the money. I just haven't had any creative inspiration lately and happen to be in need of a male model. Why don't we do this...”

Horace overheard their conversation while using the restroom.

“Your husband looks quite suitable to me. If he could serve as my human model once, I'll sell you that ring at the original price.”

Amanda's expression darkened: “I'll consider it.”

At that moment, Horace felt as though he had been plunged into an ice cellar.

What did she mean by... “consider it”?

Miss Bell was notorious in the industry for her wild lifestyle. It was said she had a peculiar fetish for photography, especially for capturing models being tortured and bleeding in incredibly gory scenes...

Horace clenched his fists tightly and turned to leave quickly.

But before long, he was pulled aside in a corner of the banquet hall.

“Horace, I have something I want to discuss with you.”

Amanda handed him a glass of fruit wine she had personally mixed, trying to be charming: “You've seen it too—Godfery's condition has improved a lot lately. Once he recovers further, he can move out. But... he's set his sights on that ring today.”

“But the buyer said that if you agree to be his photography model once, the ring can be released. What do you think...”

“Impossible!” Horace pushed her away forcefully: “Amanda, what do you treat me for?!”

A wave of bitterness washed over him, and Horace tried to suppress the surging emotions, downing the fruit wine in his hand in one gulp.

But as soon as he stepped out of the banquet hall, his head spun in a dizzying haze, and he stumbled backward, unable to control himself.

That glass of wine... there was something wrong with it...

In his dazed state, he vaguely felt Amanda's bodyguards catch him. Her muffled voice, filled with reluctance, whispered, “I'm sorry, Horace. This is the last time.”