The Foley Villa in Akloit.

In front of the mirror stood a woman wearing a white cotton camisole nightgown that reached her knees, revealing fair arms and slender legs.

Her chestnut hair contrasted against her pale face; the once bright eyes were devoid of their youthful radiance on this day marking 1162nd day since she married Kelvin Foley.

For over three years, Cheyenne Lawrence was nominally “Mrs. Foley”, confined to this cold mansion, waiting for his occasional return.

At the thought of this, she suddenly laughed at herself.

How much courage did she have back then to think that she could warm up Kelvin, this stubborn and hardhearted man?

A servant approached her with a black evening gown in hand, her eyes filled with coldness and disdain.

“Miss Lawrence, Mr. Foley will be back soon. You should change into this dress to greet him.”

No one here acknowledged her as “Mrs. Foley”, whether Kelvin or the household servants.

Cheyenne Lawrence was like an unwanted person who they deeply despised.

She reached out her small hand and picked up the black long dress. She dressed like an exquisite and noble princess sitting obediently on the sofa waiting for that man’s arrival.

take her

was coming to an end today because that woman had

in the mirror before suddenly bursting into a charming smile.

lipstick from her purse and painted it onto her lips while staring at herself

just like a

yet rhythmic footsteps; each step felt like

of his visits in the past three years, Cheyenne could recognize him

“Bang!”

the autumn wind brought with it a flurry of dead leaves that landed

on

his long legs clad in black suit

that could charm anyone – sharp features and deep-set eyes as dark as an icy abyss. Right now, those eyes were filled with anger

cold like winter

this look from him and simply

papers!” he barked at her while walking towards her. He grabbed her delicate chin tightly between his fingers

up in her eyes but Cheyenne refused to show any weakness in front of him. She would smile

dear husband,” she said softly yet casually, “you’re being too

of her

touching something dirty, he pulled out a white handkerchief from his suit pocket and carefully wiped his knobby fingers. Cheyenne winced at the

felt so cold that the chill from her blood almost took

me your husband, you’re not worthy!” He glared at her

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