After Divorce, No Forgiveness Means Money

The day I got divorced, I received a system.

It promised me the world, on one condition: I had to make my bastard ex-husband suffer.

Oh. My. God.

This was going to be epic.

Aurora POV

Sign the papers if you're awake. Evelyn is waiting. I don't have time for this.

Owen's voice was low, layered with the arrogance of unchallenged authority. It felt colder than the conditioned air in the room, a chill that seeped straight into my bones.

My throat was packed with wet cotton, the ghost of a suffocation that wouldn't fade.

I jerked upright.

My vision focused on the opulent yet stark crystal chandelier, and then on the man across from me, his head bowed, checking his watch, a look of impatience etched on his face.

Owen.

On the table, the divorce agreement lay, a stark, blinding white.

Memories exploded in my mind.

In my last life, I'd wasted three years on this man. I concealed severe depression and swallowed every humiliation for the sake of the Owen family's reputation. Finally, on a storm-ravaged night I died of a heart attack. The trigger was a viral post: him and his lover Evelyn watching fireworks from a yacht.

When I died, I was still clutching that absurd crucifix, the one I'd prayed over for?his?safety.

"Five million dollars isn't enough?"

mistook my silence. The line between his brows deepened, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt. "Aurora, know your place. Evelyn has endured far worse than you. This five million is your last chance to leave with some dignity."

Dignity?

I really wanted to laugh, but my lungs still ached.

"Ding!"

"Grudge Level: Achieved. Emotional Monetization System: Activated."

"Target Locked: Owen."

"Rule Set: Any negative emotion (anger, shock, regret, pain) generated by the Target toward the Host will be converted into currency in real time, at a proportional rate."

"Special Warning: Should the Host develop positive affective attachment to the Target, all assets will be liquidated, and the Host will be terminated."

Lines of translucent, icy blue text hung suspended in my vision.

I froze for half a second, then pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart was slamming against my ribs.

I just have to not fall in love with him to live?

And I get paid to piss him off?

This wasn't a divorce settlement. This was a goddamn jackpot!

"Aurora, my patience is limited." Owen's finger tapped the coffee table, a 'tap-tap' like a death knell. "Don't force me to get my lawyers involved. Then you won't even get this five million."

Five million dollars.

In my last life, hearing that number, I'd bawled my eyes out, begging him on my knees not to leave me.

I was so foolish back then, actually believing feelings were more important than money.

I lifted my head.

Those eyes, once filled with tentative affection and adoration, were now starkly empty, like a dry well reflecting none of Owen's image.

I reached out, bypassing his tapping hand, and snatched the divorce agreement.

I flipped straight to the end.

Grabbed the pen.

The pen scraped across the paper, a soft, deliberate sound, without a single pause.

I signed my name, a firm, decisive stroke that tore through the last page.

I saw Owen open his mouth, as if he'd prepared a mouthful of scorn and threats, but the words died in his throat.

He stared at the still-wet ink of my name, his face blank for a moment.

Signed.

She signed it. The woman who would call him three times, crying, if she so much as pricked her finger, the one who clung to him with no dignity - she just signed it.

No wailing, no tearful pleas about not being able to live without him.

I could feel a strange, almost irritable sense of defeat radiating from him.

It was like punching a cloud, leaving him utterly frustrated.

"Ding! Target detected generating 'irritation and frustration'."

"Plus the frustration of wanting to rage but finding no legitimate excuse."

"Account credited: $500,000.00."

My phone screen lit up on the table.

A bank SMS popped up: "Your account ending in 8888 has received $500,000.00. Current balance: $500,000.00."

I gazed at that pleasing string of zeros, and the color swiftly returned to my pale cheeks.

Even my breathing felt easier.

Owen's discomfort really was this valuable!

I tossed the signed agreement casually onto the coffee table with a crisp thump.

Then I stood up, light on my feet like a bird finally freed from its shackles.

"It's signed. Mr. Owen, the access card is on the cabinet in the hallway, the password hasn't changed. I'll leave now, make room for Ms. Evelyn."

I didn't even spare Owen another glance, turning to pack my handbag.

Silence behind me, but I could clearly feel his gaze burning into my back.

I felt the knot of unease in his chest. In his silence, I could almost hear a flicker of unvoiced doubt: Did she really not care anymore?

Ding! Target 'Self-Doubt & Trace Anxiety' detected.

Critical Hit! Bonus Activated. Account credited: $2,000,000.00.

Two million!

I almost burst out laughing.

With my back to Owen, my lips curved into a wild, delighted smile, and my hands worked faster.

I had to strike while the iron was hot, gather some startup capital.

"Aurora!"

Owen finally lost it, covering the distance in a few angry strides and gripping my wrist.

His palm was searing hot, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my bones.

"What game are you playing?" He stared into my eyes. "Taking this five million and leaving me, what kind of life do you think you'll have? Sleeping under a bridge?"

My wrist throbbed.

I lowered my head slightly, my gaze falling on his hand clamped around mine.

Once, I'd longed for these hands to hold mine, even for a second.

Now, they just felt dirty.

I extended my other hand, slowly, deliberately, prying his fingers open, one by one.

My movements were unhurried but firm, not allowing any resistance.

"Owen, you think too highly of yourself."

I stepped back, rubbing my reddened wrist, then met his gaze.

There was no love in my eyes, no hate, just the disgust one might feel for trash on the roadside.

"I was blind before, I cherished you like a treasure. Now my eyes are open, and looking at you..."

I let out a soft laugh, clear as a bell, each word a knife:

"You just make me sick."

Boom-

I saw Owen's body visibly stiffen, as if something had exploded in his brain.

At that moment, I'd bet Owen felt his dignity had been utterly trampled, then ground into the dirt for good measure.

"Ding! Target detected generating 'extreme shock and damaged self-esteem'."

"Assessed as S-Rank Emotional Fluctuation!"

"Account credited: $5,000,000.00."

With the previous amounts, that was seven and a half million dollars.

In a few words, I'd earned more than his pathetic divorce settlement.

My mood soared.

I pulled out my phone and, right in front of Owen's ashen face, called for the most luxurious private car service.

"Hello, Apex Car Service? Location: Hillside Villa district, I need a car now, I'm willing to pay extra."

After hanging up, I tilted my phone screen to show the massive balance that had just cleared.

"Don't worry about me sleeping under any bridge."

"After all, since I left you..."

I drew a slow breath, and for the first time since my rebirth, a smile of pure, uncomplicated bliss spread across my face.

"I've discovered the air itself smells sweeter when it's scented with money."

Owen POV

I stood in the center of the living room, my face ashen. My fists were clenched tight, knuckles white.

Watching her resolute back, a surge of blind rage shot to my head.

"Fine! Aurora! Just try to come crawling back!"

I roared towards the door, my voice echoing through the empty mansion.

"Alfred! Cancel all her supplementary cards! Let's see how long she lasts out there!"

Seconds later, Alfred's trembling voice came from the corner.

"Sir, Ms. Aurora...she never used your supplementary cards."

My body stiffened. I whipped my head around, my gaze like a knife.

"What did you say?"

Alfred buried his head even lower. "For the past three years, Ms. Aurora's expenses were all covered by her grandmother's trust fund..."

"When the company's cash flow was tight, Ms. Aurora even covered our household expenses."

Crash!

Thunder roared outside the window, but I stood frozen.

She never used them? How was that possible?

Her endless supply of designer couture, those expensive jewels...they weren't paid for with my money?

The floodgates of memory were violently thrown open. For three years, Aurora truly had never asked me for a single penny.

Instead, I had taken everything in the house for granted.

A bitter seed of guilt began to sprout, then rapidly bloomed, festering within him.

I had just reached the foyer when Aurora paused.

She stopped, turning to look back. Her gaze swept over the luxurious but lifeless villa.

Finally, it landed on me. "Oh, Owen, there are a few things I forgot to tell you."

She raised her hand, pointing to the antique vase in the center of the living room, which I cherished.

"That? It's a fake. Picked it up at a flea market for twenty bucks."

My pupils constricted. Aurora's finger moved towards the study.

"That oil painting hanging in your study? I painted it myself."

Finally, her eyes settled on my wrist. I wore a mechanical watch there, its face worn, slightly old.

Yet it was my most prized possession, worn for three years, and I proudly told everyone it was "priceless."

"And that watch." Aurora chuckled, her eyes filled with pity. "I spent three months selling things at night markets during college to buy you that. The movement was cheap, the strap synthetic leather. Since you're pursuing true love, you should just throw out all this trash."

I instinctively covered my wrist. A cold touch.

Countless images flashed through my mind - me checking the time on my watch during board meetings, accepting compliments at galas.

Everyone praised the watch for its understated luxury. But it was...a cheap knock-off?

The president of the esteemed Owen Group, wearing a cheap watch for three years? And Aurora bought it by selling things at night markets?

The pampered woman who couldn't even twist open a bottle cap normally, selling things at night markets?

Shame, shock, disbelief. A buzzing filled his head, and the thin string of his sanity snapped.

Aurora didn't look at me again. She pushed open the main door.

Rain poured down. A sleek, black luxury sedan was waiting silently at the bottom of the steps.

The car door automatically opened. The driver, holding a black umbrella, respectfully jogged over and bowed.

"Miss, please."

Aurora, in her high heels, elegantly took her seat. The tinted window slowly rose.

Through the one-way film, I only caught a final, blurry glimpse of her inside the car.

Goodbye, my former meek self. In this life, I will be the most valuable queen. - That was the message I read in her final gaze.

She spoke. "Drive."

The car cut through the rain, vanishing into the distance.

Aurora POV

The car interior was a constant 24 degrees Celsius, with a faint aroma of leather.

I leaned back in the leather seat, closing my eyes to rest. In my mind, my system panel shimmered into view.

"Host: Aurora"

"Current Status: Mild Depression (rapidly recovering)"

"Current Assets: $8,800,000"

"Skills to Unlock: Business Acumen (Beginner), Divine Appraisal Skill, Flawless Beauty..."

"Shop: Activated"

"Eight million eight hundred thousand." I tapped the armrest. "Adding the original five million divorce settlement, it's barely enough to get started."

I opened my eyes.

My formerly sallow, tired complexion now held a hint of sharp allure. First order of business: restore this face.

"Driver, take me to the most expensive hotel in the city - The Elysium Tower."

The driver's hands on the steering wheel twitched. He cautiously warned me through the rearview mirror. "Miss, the Presidential Suite there is $88,000 a night..."

Before he could finish, my phone vibrated, and a notification popped up. "Owen has contributed 0-000,000 in regret money."

My red lips curved into a radiant smile. "It's fine. Someone else is paying."

...

The Elysium Tower Hotel, a city landmark, was a playground for the wealthy and a stage where ambition and fame converged.

The revolving door mirrored my current appearance.

My dress was soaked, my hair plastered to my cheeks. Most striking was the dark red scar on my left jawline.

It was a medal I earned two years ago in that fire, when I saved someone.

The receptionist, deep in her VIP list, caught a glimpse of my disheveled state and her brow furrowed instinctively.

Just as she was about to speak and perhaps dismiss me, I slapped a black card onto the marble counter.

"Presidential Suite, monthly rental."

My voice was soft, yet cold.

The receptionist froze, her professional fake smile faltering.

She glanced at the card, a Centurion Black Card, then looked at me again, her voice slightly shaky.

"Ma'am...the Presidential Suite for a month, even with the discount, is $2.6 million."

Her voice trembled slightly as she took the black card. "Are you sure you want to charge..."

"Charge it." I replied with a single, crisp word.

It was Owen's money, every penny tinged with that man's subsequent regret. Spending it felt incredibly satisfying.

"Beep-"

A 'beep' confirmed the transaction, and the POS machine spat out a long receipt.

Two point six million dollars, payment successful.

The entire lobby seemed to hum with the tremor of it.

"Ding! Host detected completing 'First Major Expenditure', triggering 'Prodigal Rebate' mechanism!"

"Congratulations, Host, you have received an additional reward: God-Tier Skin Elixir."

"Effect: Reshapes skin texture, removes impurities, perfectly restores all old scars."

I picked up the room card and turned towards the exclusive elevator.

The sound of my heels clicking on the floor was crisp and resolute.

Like a funeral march for my old self.

...

Top floor, Presidential Suite.

Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights flowed like a river of molten gold.

I tossed the fragrant elixir into my mouth, then submerged myself in the temperature-controlled massage bathtub.

A wave of heat instantly enveloped my entire body.

Pain, accompanied by a tingling itch, spread, as if my cells were tearing apart and then subtly reorganizing.

A fine layer of black oil, smelling foul, seeped from my skin - the accumulated toxins of three years of despair, and the lingering residue from the fire.

Half an hour later, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bathroom, my robe loosely tied, collar slightly open. The hot water had just stopped, and the mirror was still fogged.

I reached out to wipe it, then my hand froze mid-air, a flicker of unfamiliarity with the person in the reflection.

My dull, tired complexion was now pristine and luminous, a healthy yet cool-toned white. The light caught the lines of my neck and shoulders, sharp and defined.

My gaze drifted downward.

My left jawline.

The scar that had been with me for so many years was almost invisible.

In its place was a sharp, sculpted jawline, extending from ear to chin, clean and controlled, yet radiating an undeniable strength.

I lifted my head, looking into my own eyes.

Those eyes, once always dim and lifeless, as if ready to be swallowed by the world, were now clear and sharp. The outer corners tilted slightly upward, and once fixed, my gaze held an undeniable intensity.

Not a fragile beauty. But the kind that screamed 'don't mess with me,' yet made you unable to look away.

Standing there, I suddenly realized something.

This wasn't "me, saved." This was a version entirely my own. My fingertips lightly traced my smooth cheek, a subtle, dangerous curve forming on my lips.

"Thank you, Owen. If you weren't such a jerk, I wouldn't have the capital to transform myself like this."

My phone on the table suddenly vibrated, an abnormally loud sound in the quiet room.

"Sophia" flashed on the screen.

As soon as I answered, a furious torrent of words poured from the other end.

"Aurora! Did you see that bitch's post? I'm so mad I could spit!"

"I want to reach through the screen and tear Evelyn's mouth off!"

I walked to the bar, poured a glass of red wine, my tone languid. "What did she post?"

"Photos! A huge diamond ring! Like, a pigeon's egg!"

Sophia gritted her teeth. "The caption was even more sickening: 'So glad it's you by my side. See you at the auction next week.' And Owen, that blind idiot, liked it!"

I put the call on speaker and opened Instagram.

The trending list was already flooded with tags for the city's new "it" couple.

#OwenSpendsMillionsToWooHisLove

#EvelynTheTrueLady

#AuroraGetOutOfTheOwenFamily

The comments section was a frenzy of paid trolls.

"Now this is true love. That Aurora was just a frumpy old hag clinging to a position."

"I heard Aurora used to sell things at night markets? She really lowered Mr. Owen's status."

"Evelyn is so beautiful, she'll definitely outshine everyone at the auction!"

Sophia's voice continued. "Aurora, we have to issue a statement! We can't let them keep throwing dirt at us!"

"A statement?"

I swirled the wine in my glass, the crimson liquid clinging to the sides in alluring streaks.

I looked out at the city lights, my eyes colder than the night itself.

"Why issue a statement?"

"Someone's paying out of their own pocket to boost my visibility. Why would I ever say no to that?"

The other end of the line went silent. "Huh? Aurora, are you crazy with anger?"

"Sophia." I tilted my head back, draining the wine. The liquid burned like a fiery blaze within me. "Do me a favor. Get me an invitation to next week's auction."

Sophia gasped. "You? Going there? To watch them flaunt their love? Torture yourself?"

"Flaunt their love?"

I chuckled softly, placing the empty glass on the marble counter with a crisp 'clink'.

"No. I'm going to put a price on their 'love.' And teach Owen what a real...player looks like."

Aurora POV

Seven days after the divorce, the city's gossip had reached a fever pitch.

The whispers in the social circles claimed I was probably hiding in some moldy basement apartment, drowning my sorrows in alcohol after being thrown out.

There were even bets at card tables on whether I'd survive the winter. Owen probably believed it too.

For an entire week, I remained dead silent.

No hysterical phone calls, no desperate pleas via text, and my social media accounts had gone dark since the day of the divorce.

I knew this dead silence would cause him a strange irritation.

Tonight was the annual charity gala, attended by all the city's elite.

The heavy, carved doors of the ballroom swung open with a dramatic flourish.

The buzzing ballroom, filled with clinking glasses and chatter, suddenly went silent, as if someone had hit a pause button. All eyes were pulled towards the entrance by an invisible force. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Who...who is that?"

"My God, that presence...it feels familiar somehow."

I noticed Owen instinctively turn his head.

When his gaze landed on me in the doorway, the champagne glass in his hand noticeably stilled, a faint clink against his fingers.

It was me.

But completely different from the woman he knew.

The woman in bland suits, always in his shadow, handing him slippers, her presence so faint she was practically invisible - she was gone.

I stood beneath the lights. A deep crimson gown, cut daringly and precisely, hugged my curves without an inch of excess fabric. Its high slit swayed with each step, revealing glimpses of my legs in the play of light and shadow, but never overtly.

Not an attempt at seductive charm. This was powerful, controlled sensuality.

My hair was casually styled, voluminous and rich, cascading down my back, swaying gently with my movements. No intricate styling, yet it captivated all attention.

I wore no exaggerated jewelry.

I didn't need to.

As the lights fell upon me, I knew one thing for sure-

Attention itself was my only accessory tonight.

I saw Owen's Adam's apple bob. His breathing hitched. He stood frozen, his gaze never leaving me.

"Ding!"

"Target detected generating intense negative emotions."

"Type: A mixture of stunned awe, possessive rage, and a sense of losing control."

"Account credited: $6,000,000.00."

"Host's Charisma +10."

"Skin Radiance +20%."

System notifications flashed in my mind.

Feeling that familiar, exhilarating rush of funds, I continued forward, a natural curve gracing my lips.

The more Owen fumed, the richer I got.

Was there any business model more perfect than this?

I took a glass of red wine from a server's tray and walked forward, heels clicking, eyes fixed straight ahead.

As I passed Owen, I didn't even grant him a flicker of my gaze.

As if he were nothing but murky air.

"Aurora!"

Owen, thoroughly enraged by my disregard, took a step forward and blocked my path, his voice dangerously low. "What are you doing here? Dressed like that, are you trying to snag a sugar daddy to pay for your future?"

The old me would have panicked, explained, and tearfully said "I didn't" just like before.

But now, I simply stopped and turned my head.

Those eyes, once always glistening with tears, were now shockingly clear, carrying a hint of casual mockery.

"Mr. Owen, your paranoia isn't just a minor issue; it's practically a terminal illness. I suggest you seek treatment immediately."

I swirled the wine in my glass, my red lips parting. "I'm here, of course, to...spend money."

"Spend money?"

Evelyn, standing nearby, couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. "Aurora, tonight's auction items start at five million. Your little divorce settlement...it probably couldn't even buy you a ticket in, could it?"

I swept my gaze over her.

My eyes were like those of someone looking at a clueless ant.

I said nothing, merely walked directly to the front row - the very center, reserved for the city's elite.

I saw Owen staring at my straight back, that surge of panic as control slipped from his grasp returning.

He must have been thinking - How dare she sit there? Who gave her the right?

The auctioneer soon took the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's highlight item, the 'Tears of the Deep' blue diamond, starting bid - five million dollars."

It was an incredibly rare deep blue diamond ring, shimmering with a cold light under the spotlight.

Owen took a deep breath and raised his paddle.

He intended to buy it for Evelyn, not just to flaunt his wealth, but to slap me in the face, to show me I was nothing without him.

"Six million!" Owen's voice was steady.

"Ten million."

From the front row, I spoke languidly.

I didn't even bother to raise my paddle, just casually waved the wine glass in my hand.

The entire hall erupted in murmurs.

Owen glared at my back, gritting his teeth. "Fifteen million!"

"Ding! Target detected generating 'raw hatred and burgeoning panic'."

"Account credited: $5,000,000.00."

Me. "Twenty million."

Owen's veins pulsed at his temples. "Thirty million!"

Me. "Forty million."

I increased the bid so quickly, so casually, as if I weren't calling out money, but a string of meaningless numbers.

I could feel his sanity frayed at the edges. The fury and indignation festered, threatening to consume his very reason.

"Ding! Target detected generating 'extreme rage and competitive zeal'."

"High-Alert! Emotion conversion triggered massive cash flow: $50,000,000.00 credited."

Listening to the system's report, a smile flickered in my eyes.

Thank you for your generous sponsorship, Owen.

"Fifty million!" Owen practically roared, his eyes bloodshot.

Evelyn's face was ashen with fear. She tugged desperately at his sleeve. "Owen! It's too expensive! It's not worth it..."

Fifty million dollars for a diamond ring, even for the Owen family, was no small sum.

Just when everyone thought the farce was over.

I raised my hand again.

I didn't even turn around, simply made a gesture with my hand, my back to Owen.

My voice was clear, echoing through every corner of the hall.

"One hundred million."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Even the auctioneer's hand holding the gavel trembled.

Owen froze, his face shifting from red to green, then finally to an ashen grey.

One hundred million...he couldn't produce that.

Or rather, if he threw a hundred million away for a fit of pique, the old guard on the board would tear him apart.

"One hundred million once, one hundred million twice...Sold!"

The gavel came down.

A trembling server brought the velvet box containing the diamond ring to me.

The host stammered, almost incoherently. "Ms. Aurora, you've acquired this 'Tears of the Deep' for an astronomical price. Does it hold any special commemorative meaning for you?"

I took the box.

Stood up.

Turned around.

Under the gaze of hundreds of eyes in the hall, I walked step by step to Owen.

Less than half a meter separated us.

I opened the box, picked up the dazzling diamond ring, and held it up to the light.

"It's beautiful." Evelyn's jealousy was practically oozing from her eyes.

I let out a soft laugh.

"No special meaning."

I looked at Owen's ashen face, then loosened my fingers.

Clink.

The diamond ring dropped onto the polished marble floor with a crisp sound, then rolled to Owen's feet.

I lifted my foot, and my stiletto heel landed precisely on the setting.

I pressed down, hard.

The expensive platinum setting instantly warped, and the rare blue diamond popped free from the twisted metal, rolling into a patch of dust.

"I just saw someone really wanted it, and I thought it would be fun."

I lifted my foot, scraping my heel on the carpet, as if I'd stepped in something vile.

I met Owen's gaze, a stunningly beautiful smile on my face:

"I bought it just to hear it shatter. And to let Mr. Owen know..."

"Anything I don't want, I'd rather destroy than let you have."

Owen's vision blurred, and a surge of blood rushed to his head.

"Ding! Target detected generating 'rage-induced internal disruption' and 'minor internal injuries'."

"Congratulations, Host! Rare reward triggered: Skill Book: God-Tier Business Acumen!"

Aurora POV

Three days later, I was in my Elysium Tower suite, enjoying a Luxury Spa Treatment courtesy of the system.

After the system's repair, my face was completely free of the fire-induced scars. My skin was as fair as snow, and the timid ugly duckling who once lived subserviently in Owen's house had finally transformed into a swan.

"Aurora, look at the TV!" Sophia called, her voice seething. "Evelyn, that total snake, is stirring up trouble again!"

I casually switched on the TV.

On the screen was a talk show called "The Lady's Code".

Evelyn, in a white dress with exquisite makeup, was asked by the host:

"Ms. Evelyn, Mr. Owen couldn't secure that diamond ring for you at the auction. Do you regret it?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Evelyn's face, but it vanished instantly. "No regrets. Owen and I are true love."

Facing the camera, Evelyn adjusted her posture, revealing her snow-white swan neck.

That perfectly measured vulnerability on her face was textbook acting.

"Actually, I truly don't care about diamond rings." Her voice was soft, like a feather brushing against a heart, with a slight tremor. "Owen and I are never held together by material things. Our story, our connection, began with that devastating fire three years ago."

The host immediately sat up straight. This was big news.

Everyone in the city knew Owen had miraculously survived a fire three years ago, but exactly who saved him had always been a mystery.

Evelyn took a deep breath, seemingly lost in memory. "Everyone knows Owen was gravely injured then. The fire was too intense. Everyone was running out, but I...I went against the crowd, running back inside. I'm a weak woman. I can't even open a bottle cap normally. But in that moment, I had only one thought. Even if I died, I'd die with him."

I was sipping lemon water and almost choked laughing. Can't twist open a bottle cap? The last time she was at the mall, fighting for a limited edition handbag, Evelyn shoved two sales assistants aside, almost making them fall.

On screen, Evelyn carefully took a velvet box from her handbag and opened it.

Inside lay half of a broken antique silver pendant, engraved with a family crest.

Even in its fractured state, its quality was unmistakable. The break was jagged, violent, as if torn apart by sheer force.

"This pendant..." Evelyn's eyes instantly shimmered with tears that hovered, refusing to fall. "It was my mother's protective charm. It broke the day I saved Owen."

"Though it's only half now, to me, it's infinitely more precious than any hundred-million-dollar diamond. Because it witnessed the moment we almost died... together. It's proof of what I risked my life for."

The camera, understanding the moment, zoomed in for a close-up. The half-pendant gleamed coldly in the light.

screen, the host was already dabbing her eyes, overcome. "Oh, Ms. Evelyn...you're a true heroine! This is a real-life fairy tale! Can you share...how did the pendant break?"

Evelyn delicately blotted the corner of her eye, her voice thick with manufactured emotion. "The smoke was too thick. I was trying to pull Owen to safety, and I...I fell. My strength just gave out. The pendant struck the edge of a step."

" I couldn't find the other half. Owen was fading, so I pressed this piece into his hand. I told him, 'This is my guardian charm. It will keep you safe.'"

At the emotional peak, she lifted her gaze, letting it lock steadily with the camera. "Later, when Owen recovered, he returned it to me. He said it wasn't just a token. It was half my life. And he promised to spend his life guarding this half, and guarding me."

"Wow!" The studio audience erupted in applause and gasps.

The online chat went wild.

"A fairy-tale romance! This must be why Mr. Owen is so devoted to Evelyn!"

"Now this is the true grace of a lady of the house, who is that ex-wife Aurora anyway?"

"Evelyn is so inspiring, I've soaked a whole pack of tissues."

I stared at the enlarged, broken pendant on the screen. My pupils contracted.

A sharp, sudden pain detonated behind my eyes.

Clatter.

The glass slipped, shattered on the carpet, lemon water soaking my dress.

I pressed my temples. That pendant...that break...

Deep in my mind, a rusted lock was smashed open.

Excruciating pain.

Then, a scalding tide.

Memories were no longer fragments, but vivid, burning reality, surging in a relentless torrent.

Fire, dense smoke, the searing pain of a collapsing beam, shielding a blurry figure beneath me, and the cold, turning back of a woman...

"Hiss..." My hand flew to my temple as a cold sweat broke across my forehead.

Ding! Host has touched a 'Core Memory Trigger Point'.

System Alert: Memory restoration in progress...20% complete.

Aurora POV

That fire three years ago not only destroyed half the train station but also burned away parts of my memory.

The images deep in my mind gradually pieced together, no longer fragmented, but a coherent reality laced with searing heat.

My mother died young, my father's business failed, and he fell ill, never recovering. On his deathbed, he penned a letter with trembling hands, telling me I absolutely had to deliver it to Owen's grandfather in person.

"Aurora," my father had said, "Owen's grandfather is an old acquaintance, and my benefactor. He will look after you."

But as soon as I got off the train, before I could even glimpse the city's grandeur, I was swept into a hellish inferno.

I remembered carrying someone, heavy, their weight making my spine protest. Was it the fifth or sixth person I'd rescued? I couldn't remember. I just recalled a splintering crash above me as I neared the exit.

I instinctively shielded the person on my back, and then, with a deafening roar, the world plunged into darkness.

When I awoke, I was in a sterile, antiseptic-smelling hospital bed, a sharp, persistent ache in my jaw. When the nurse changed my dressing, she forgot to cover the mirror beside me.

To my horror, I saw that my once delicate face now bore a hideous, centipede-like scar on the left side of my jaw. In that moment, my world had shattered.

If not for my father's letter, I probably would have found some secluded town to live out my remaining days in obscurity.

With the letter, and this ruined face, I found the Owen family.

Owen's grandfather read the letter, tears streaming down his face - genuine grief.

"My old friend, you were too stubborn!" The old man cried, slapping his thigh. "You saved my life, I owe you my life!"

That was the day I first met Owen.

He had also just recovered from the fire, his arm still bandaged, his stern face etched with pure defiance.

The old man's decision was immediate. "Owen, this is the daughter of my friend, our family's benefactor. You will marry her."

Owen sneered, his gaze a cold blade scraping across the scar on my face, his disgust bare and deliberate. "Grandpa, have you lost your mind? Marry her? My savior is Evelyn, and the only person I'll marry is Evelyn!"

"You insolent child! We don't even know for certain who saved you!" The old man's cane struck the floor with furious, staccato blows. "That Evelyn is a liar through and through! Mark my words, she is trouble! Aurora is an excellent girl, the daughter of my benefactor. This marriage is final! Refuse, and you can forget about inheriting the Owen Group in three years!"

For the billions in family wealth, Owen compromised.

But all his resentment poured out onto me.

On our wedding day, he didn't get me a ring, and he wouldn't even take a single photo with me. For three years after, he never took me to any public events. I was a transparent shadow in the Owen household.

I was so foolish back then, my self-esteem shattered by this face. I felt like a defective product, and I was grateful that Owen would give me a home, even if it was an ice-cold prison.

I tried to be a perfect wife, managing the household, enduring his cold sarcasm, enduring his nights spent with Evelyn instead of me.

I thought his heart would eventually soften.

Until the day Owen secured the family inheritance. His first act was to fling the divorce papers in my face.

Like a receding tide, the past washed away. My eyes snapped open, vision sharpening back onto the TV screen.

On screen, Evelyn was still maudlinly flaunting that half of my pendant.

I picked up my phone and called Sophia.

"Get me a spot," I said, my voice low. Outside, city lights bled into the room, their neon glow reflecting in my eyes like twin flames. "I hear The Lady's Code is casting a challenge guest."

Sophia hesitated. "They are. But that's a skills-based show. Evelyn's a regular. You'd just be her foil."

"Her foil?"

"No. I'm going to make her wish she'd never been born."

Ding. Host detected generating 'Fierce Revenge and Ambition'.

System Mission: Participate in 'The Lady's Code' and completely overshadow Evelyn in your debut.

Mission Reward: 'All-Round Talent Shop' unlocked.

I hung up and stared intently at my reflection in the mirror..

Evelyn. Owen.

Are you ready for the hell?