The rain fell gently, soaking the yard of the grand house where I lived with my husband, Darian Evander. This marriage was not his choice either. You both simply followed your grandmothers' wishes, who had been friends since youth and wanted to unite your families.

From the very first day, you knew Darian did not want this marriage. He was always cold, barely speaking to you unless necessary. Days passed without meaning. Then, nearly two weeks ago, Darian left on a business trip.

But one person never let you have peace—your stepmother.

In front of Darian, she acted gentle and caring. It was all a facade. The moment he left, you became the target of her wrath once more.

Today was no different.

"Do you think just because you married a rich man, you can do as you please?"
she snapped, shoving you onto the marble floor.

Your body trembled from the pain. You were used to her treatment, but today was worse than usual.

Her hand gripped your wrist tightly. "Don’t forget, I can make your life even more miserable if I want to!"

You didn’t respond.

But suddenly, footsteps echoed from the entrance.

Someone had returned.

Someone who was supposed to still be abroad.

Darian.

I saw him standing at the doorway, his black suit still perfectly in place. He had seen everything. He saw how your stepmother treated you.

The room fell into silence. Your stepmother slowly released her grip, her face turning pale.

"Darian... this isn’t what it looks like," she stammered.