Chapter 4

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the sterile white ceiling of a hospital.

An IV was hooked to the back of my hand, and my left arm was wrapped in heavy bandages. Beneath the gauze, the pain told me my skin had been badly burned.

The door burst open, and Marcus rushed in, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Hathaway! The doctor called and said you were hospitalized for burns. Didn’t I tell you to stay your ass at home?"

As he spoke, he rushed to the bed next to mine, grabbing the hand of the woman lying there with deep concern.

"Who the hell are you? Why are you touching my wife’s hand?!" the woman’s husband snapped, shoving Marcus away.

The nurse nearby gave Marcus a pitying look, sighed, and pointed at me. "Hathaway is in Bed 48."

Marcus froze. He turned around and stared at me for a long time before he finally recognized me.

He scratched his head awkwardly and walked over to take my hand.

"Hathaway..."

The strong scent of Scarlett's perfume on his clothes hit my nose. I stared at him in dead silence.

There was a bright red lipstick stain on his neck.

Looking at his face—the face of the man I had lived with for eight years, the same face that had abandoned me in a burning park to save another woman—I felt nothing but disgust.

I looked at my bandaged, ruined arm.

I let out a cold, self-deprecating laugh and slapped his hand away.

"Marcus, tell me, how does it feel to keep a mistress on the side?"

The moment those words left my mouth, every eye in the ward locked onto Marcus.

His face flushed red with embarrassment, his eyes darting around guiltily. He lowered his voice and hissed at me.

"Hathaway, are you out of your mind?!"

"Just because I couldn't spend your birthday with you due to work, you're making this giant scene? Is this really necessary?!"

Looking at his angry, defensive face, I felt sick.

I unlocked my phone and shoved the pictures I took at the amusement park right in front of his face.

Marcus took one look at the screen, and his voice died in his throat.

"Hathaway, I..." He looked around nervously.

I sneered. "What else do you want to say?"

The other patients and their families started whispering, leaning in to get a glimpse of the photos.

Marcus’s face turned pale. He snatched the phone from my hand and grabbed my arm, violently dragging me out of the bed.

"There are too many people here. We’re talking outside!"

"Why? Are you actually ashamed of the disgusting things you did?!" I screamed, struggling against his grip.

Marcus yanked me out into the hallway. The IV needle was ripped violently out of my vein, and blood began to gush down my arm, but he didn't even notice.

Once we reached an empty corner of the hallway, he threw my hand down.

"Hathaway, have you had enough?!"

"Scarlett is a public figure! Why the hell are you taking photos of her? What are you trying to do, ruin her?!"

"If you have a problem, take it out on me!"

He was absolutely furious.

I realized then that he hadn't dragged me out here to apologize or explain. He was just terrified that his precious Scarlett would get hurt.

Marcus's chest heaved. It wasn't until he noticed the pool of blood dripping down my hand that he paused.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and grabbed my shoulders.

"Hathaway, just calm down and listen to me. It was an accident."

"We both got wasted at a bar that night. Scarlett was a virgin. How could I just walk away and not take responsibility for her?!"

My heart felt like it was being sliced into pieces by a thousand knives.

I had been with him since I was eighteen.

He had face blindness, and he had mistaken other women for me countless times, but I had never blamed him.

Even that one time we were held up by thugs, and Marcus rescued the wrong girl because of his condition, leaving me behind.

I was stabbed and nearly died, leaving a permanent scar on my chest. Even then, I never blamed him.

Because I believed he didn’t mean to do it.

Eighteen years.

For eighteen years, he couldn't remember my face. Yet, it only took him three years to memorize Scarlett’s.

When he decided to "take responsibility" for Scarlett, did he ever think of me, sitting at home keeping the dinner warm, waiting for him?

Marcus looked at me, speaking with a straight face.

"Don't worry. I know the difference between having fun outside and loving you. As long as you don't make a scene, you will always be Mrs. Marcus."

My body trembled as I stared at the man standing in front of me, dressed in his expensive suit.

I couldn’t believe this shameless cheater was the same man who used to tear up whenever I got a tiny scratch.

Suddenly, the phone in his pocket vibrated.

I saw the caller ID on the screen: My Precious Scarlett.

In all our years together, my contact name on his phone had only ever been my first and last name.

Scarlett’s sobbing voice came through the speaker.

"Marcus... our baby has a high fever. We need to take him to the ER. Please come home quickly..."

Marcus’s face instantly filled with panic. He gave me a hurried, dismissive glance.

"Alright, let's just let this go. Take care of yourself, and I’ll come back to see you later."

With that, he turned on his heel and rushed out of the hospital without looking back once.

Watching his retreating figure, all the strength drained from my body.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and cried my eyes out.

Until a pair of expensive, blood-red high heels appeared in front of my eyes.

Scarlett stood there, holding a baby, looking down at me with pure disdain.

"You’re Hathaway, right? We need to talk."

Sensing her hostile intentions, I secretly dialed Juliet's number and kept the line open.

“If anything goes wrong, call the cops immediately,” I texted her quickly.