My Ex-Husband Ordered Me to Die on the Battlefield

By the time he returned to the villa, it was already past midnight.

On the living room table sat a cake with blown-out candles. Amanda was sitting on the sofa with Godfery, unwrapping gifts.

Seeing Horace soaking wet, his clothes stained with blood, Amanda suddenly stopped what she was doing: “Horace, you... I sent a car to pick you up?”

She was too nervous to mention his injuries, so she quickly got up and grabbed a towel to wipe his hair.

But his overly cold gaze fixed on her, and without a moment's hesitation, he raised his hand—

a harsh slap landed on her face. At that moment, a figure suddenly rushed forward and shielded Amanda.

“Smack!”

With a clear crack, Godfery covered his face and cried out in shock.

“Ah!” A red handprint quickly appeared on his face.

“Godfery, are you okay?”

Amanda rushed to check on him, her fingers trembling as she touched his cheek.

When her fingertips brushed against the rapidly swelling redness, anger surged through her, and she snatched the towel from her hand.

“Horace! I think you've lost your mind!”

The towel whipped across Horace’s forehead with a sharp crack, leaving a bruise where he had been kicked. The pain nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Amanda, I misjudged you,” he murmured, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

“For a meaningless ring, you’re willing to hand me over to someone else to torture me? You’re truly disgusting!”

Amanda froze, her expression betraying her reluctance.

But at that moment, Godfery stepped forward and blocked her with his arms: “I won’t let you speak to Amanda like that. Horace, if you’re angry, if you want to vent or hit someone, take it out on me!”

What a heartfelt display of devotion.

Amanda’s last shred of reluctance was shattered. She gently took Godfrey’s hand: “No need. I’ll handle it.”

She turned her icy gaze toward Horace: “Those photos of you injured, bleeding, and humiliated will be auctioned off in six months. Even if they fetch ten billion or a hundred billion, I’ll buy them back. But Horace, you should never have laid a hand on Godfrey!”

Six months?

But by then, he’ll already be gone.

Horace shrugged indifferently, hearing the words before he went upstairs.

“If you don’t want to be arrested for assault tonight, get out there and kneel in the courtyard right now!”

At midnight, the rain began to fall.

The private doctor’s car pulled into the villa.

The bright headlights illuminated the shadows in the dark night. Horace, supervised by several bodyguards, knelt motionless in the rain.

Two hours later, two overlapping figures appeared on the balcony of the master bedroom, looking down below.

“Amanda, Horace is so pitiful.”

Godfery suddenly spoke, but it was more of a victor’s mockery: I have a wound on my face, so the birthday party will be postponed for a few days. Why don't we invite Horace to come along then? He probably hasn't seen the yacht you gave me yet."

Amanda's gaze was hidden in the shadows: “Alright, you arrange it. Godfery, I'm sorry I didn't protect you well.”

The overly affectionate conversation shattered Horace's final sigh.

Yes, the Amanda who cared for him had died a thousand times over in the past.

He clenched his fists tightly.

A yacht?

Very well, let it be the final resolution.

The kneeling in the rain left a bruise on Horace's knee.

Even days later, the wounds on his body still ached, but he limped his way to the Family Court to obtain two divorce certificates.

When he returned to the villa, the bodyguard's car was already waiting downstairs.

“Sir, Ms. Amanda has asked you to attend Mr. Godfery's birthday party.”

He placed one of the divorce certificates on the bedside table in the master bedroom, then took out the wedding ring he hadn't worn in ages and was escorted by the bodyguard to the banquet.

On the deck of the luxury yacht, gifts of all sizes were piled into small mountains, and the champagne tower reflected brilliant light under the lamps. Elegantly dressed waiters moved among the guests.

“Amanda, you’re watching him too closely! Every time it’s Godfery’s turn, you don’t even let him take a sip of wine!”

At the long table, a group of young men and women from the same social circle were playing a bottle-spinning game with Godfery.

When Horace arrived, the spinning bottle just happened to point directly at him.

Someone burst out laughing.

“Isn’t that a coincidence? The person pointed at by the bottle has to be punished!”