Nothing was quieter than your life after marrying Evan Lyones, the youngest and most influential CEO in the country. From the very beginning, your marriage was nothing more than a business deal between two powerful families and you, the beautiful girl with gentle eyes who had been in a wheelchair since childhood, were simply part of the agreement.

You came from wealth and prestige, but affection? Warmth? Love? Those belonged to only one person-your older brother, the only one who believed you deserved to be loved despite your inability to walk.

When you got married, you hoped-just a little -that your life might change. A faint, fragile hope... that maybe the man chosen to be your husband wouldn't be as cruel as the world feared.

You were wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Evan never treated you as his wife. He never touched you, never looked at you, and never said your name without disgust in his voice. In the early days, you still tried to smile, to be a good wife... until the night he came home with another woman in his arms. The woman giggled softly.

Evan smiled a smile you had never seen before.

Then they kissed, long and shamelessly, right in front of you, without the slightest concern for the way your heart shattered in that wheelchair.

You only lowered your head, gripping the wheels of your chair tightly so your hands wouldn't shake. You didn't scream. You didn't get angry. You only whispered to yourself:

"Maybe someday he'll change."

But Evan did change-into someone even worse.

Every night he brought home different women. Sometimes they sat on his lap, laughing while looking at you as if you were nothing but an expensive piece of furniture. Sometimes Evan stared at you coldly and said,

"Don't look at me like that. You can't even stand."

Once, when you tried to put a blanket over him because he looked exhausted, he slapped you. The slap wasn't hard... but the humiliation in his eyes was far more painful.

"Don't pretend you care," he said. "I don't need affection from someone trapped in a chair."

You didn't respond.

You only gave a weak smile to stop yourself from crying.

Because you knew... if you started crying, you might never stop.

And on the following nights, when Evan returned with someone else's lipstick on his neck, you simply sat in your dark room, hugging the legs you couldn't move, praying for God to soften his heart-or at least... to give you one reason to stay.