My ex-husband regretted it after I left.

Vanessa Bennett fell onto the icy floor, the smugness on her face disappearing instantly, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness. She propped herself up and slowly sat up, brushing the dust off her skirt. Her eyes, venomous like a snake soaked in poison, locked onto me.

“Clara Bennett, who do you think you are now?” she hissed. “You actually dared to push me?”

She turned her head toward the bodyguards standing by in the corner of the villa, her tone sharp and commanding, leaving no room for refusal.

“Hold her down.”

The two bodyguards exchanged glances, hesitating as they looked from me—still crouched on the floor picking up the fragments—to Vanessa’s dark, threatening expression. Just as they were about to speak, Vanessa cut them off with a vicious glare.

“Don’t forget whose money you’re taking,” she said coldly. “You work for Liam Foster. You’re his people.”

Each word struck precisely where it hurt. “Think carefully—right now, who do you think matters more to him?”

The bodyguards fell silent for a brief moment. In the end, they clearly saw the situation for what it was. They stepped forward quickly, one on each side, gripping my arms and forcing me down onto the sofa, pinning me so I couldn’t move.

Watching this unfold, I suddenly laughed. My laugh was hoarse, bleak. Tears mixed with those I hadn’t finished crying earlier rolled down my cheeks.

“So everyone knows,” I said, my voice trembling, “that in Liam Foster’s heart, you—Vanessa Bennett—are the most important one. And I’m the only fool who kept clinging to a last shred of hope, believing that his care for you was just for my sake.”

Before that absurd illusion could even fade, Vanessa had already turned and walked over to the coffee table. She picked up a decorative dagger. The moment it slid from its sheath, cold light flashed. Gripping the dagger, she walked toward me step by step, her eyes filled with cruel delight.

Hiss—

The sharp blade slashed across my cheek without warning. A piercing pain exploded instantly, racing through my nerves and into every corner of my body. I shuddered violently, struggling desperately, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable.

“Vanessa Bennett, don’t you dare! Aren’t you afraid Liam will call the police? I’ve been with him for so many years—what makes you think you can replace me?!”

“Replace you?”

Vanessa laughed wildly. With a flick of her wrist, she carved another deep, bone-revealing cut into my other cheek. Blood surged out at once, streaming down my face.

She bent down, pressed close to my ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of us could hear:

“Clara Bennett, I told you a long time ago—even if I killed you, Liam wouldn’t blame me one bit.”

“You—and your dead mother—were nothing but stepping stones for me to climb higher.”

As her words fell, she went mad with the dagger, slashing across my face and neck again and again. One bloody gash followed another. Blood dripped like broken beads, soaking my clothes and splattering onto the sofa cushions.

I struggled with everything I had, but against two grown bodyguards, my strength was laughable. I could only watch helplessly as the dagger struck me again and again.

In the end, Vanessa seemed to find the dagger unsatisfying. She tossed it aside and raised her hand, slapping my face hard.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The crisp, brutal sounds echoed through the living room, each one like a hammer smashing into my heart. My consciousness began to blur. The burning pain in my face nearly robbed me of all sensation. My vision turned crimson as warm blood flooded my eyes and mouth, the metallic sweetness filling my nose.

“Well?” Vanessa grabbed my hair, yanking my head up so I had no choice but to face her. Her eyes were full of revengeful pleasure as she spoke slowly, word by word.

“Do you know what you did wrong now?”

“When I was nine years old, your mother slapped me in front of everyone and called me a mistress’s daughter—said I was disgraceful, that I embarrassed the Bennett family.”

“And now, I’m going to let her see from the grave how her precious legitimate daughter gets slashed ten times and slapped a hundred times—until she’s even more pathetic than me.”

As she spoke, she bent down, picked up the broken pieces of the silver bracelet from the floor, clenched them in her hand, and smashed them viciously into my face. The shards cut into my skin, bringing pain even sharper than the blade.

The agony in my chest intertwined with the pain on my face. I couldn’t take it anymore. A mouthful of blood burst from my lips. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness completely.

Before everything faded, I vaguely heard the villa door being flung open, followed by Liam Foster’s furious shout:

“Stop!”

…

I didn’t know how long it was before I slowly opened my eyes. The familiar smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I was back in the hospital.

Liam Foster sat on the chair beside my bed. There was a trace of barely perceptible concern on his face, and his voice was softened deliberately.

“Clara, what happened today… Vanessa was too impulsive. You’ve suffered.”

My entire face was wrapped in thick gauze, leaving only my swollen, reddened eyes exposed. I blinked. A sour ache rose in my dry eyes. My voice was hoarse, as if scraped raw by sandpaper.

“Did you call the police?”

Liam’s gaze flickered. A trace of guilt flashed through his eyes before he quickly steadied himself and looked away.

“Vanessa… after all, she’s your own sister. This was indeed her fault. I’ve already punished her properly. Don’t dwell on it anymore—focus on recovering.”

“How did you punish her?”

My voice was devoid of emotion—calm to the point of terror.

Liam hurriedly pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay the repaired silver bracelet. He handed it toward my bedside and said in a low voice:

“When she slashed you, her palm was also cut by the dagger. She bled quite a bit. I’ve punished her by making her stay home, no going out, and no touching anything sharp. Clara, that should be enough. Don’t make things too ugly between everyone.”

My gaze fell on the repaired bracelet, then slowly lifted to Liam’s hypocritical face. Suddenly, I let out a miserable laugh. The movement tugged at the wounds on my face, making my whole body tremble with pain.

“Liam Foster, do you remember?” I asked softly. “You once said you’d protect me for the rest of my life. That you’d never let me get hurt.”

His eyes dimmed, as if memories from the past had surfaced. His lips moved, as though he wanted to say something.

But before he could speak, I suddenly sat up, gathering every ounce of strength I had left, and slapped him hard across the face.

Smack.

The sound was sharp and piercing in the quiet hospital room.

“Get out!” I screamed, my voice breaking with despair. “The thing I regret most in my entire life is knowing you—being with you!”

Liam stood there stunned, his cheek burning, confusion filling his eyes. After a few seconds, as if something had occurred to him, his expression gradually calmed.

His tone turned weary, almost indulgent.

“I know you’re very angry right now. Your emotions are unstable. The doctor said you need rest. Calm down. I’ll come see you in a few days.”

He stood up and turned to leave. When he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back to look at me, and spoke lightly—yet with a faint, unmistakable threat.

“And one more thing. I don’t want to hear what you just said ever again. Otherwise, I’ll take it seriously.”

With that, he left the room without looking back and closed the door behind him.

Silence fell instantly.

I collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the blanket. The sobs I had been suppressing for so long finally broke free—heart-rending, desperate, yet muffled, because I was afraid of pulling at the wounds on my face.

Tears soaked into the pillowcase, mixing with the still-drying blood.

Bitter.

And utterly hopeless.