Chapter 2

When I first met Julian, his legs were trapped beneath a crushed car. I used my bare hands, digging through the dirt inch by inch, to pull him out.

He had amnesia and forgot all about Bianca. I took care of him devotedly for three months, and he fell for me.

Then his grandmother tracked him down. She paid off all the crushing medical bills my comatose mother and sick brother had piled up. I was deeply grateful to her.

With his grandmother playing matchmaker, we got married.

Julian and I actually had six months of pure happiness.

Until my birthday, when his 'surprise' was putting the wedding gown I treasured so dearly onto the first woman he brought home.

He staged a wedding and livestreamed their intimacy in our bridal suite, letting tens of thousands of people watch my utter humiliation.

All because Bianca had messaged him on Snapchat, crying that I was the one who had forced her away.

From that day on, Julian brought home girl after girl who looked like Bianca, streaming their wedding nights.

He forced me to serve them like a maid and endure listening to their intimate noises all night long.

To prevent Julian from having another mental breakdown, his grandmother made me promise on her deathbed to keep Bianca's elopement a secret and stay married to him for eight years.

Those eight years were finally up. I couldn't bear this humiliation for another second.

"Fine. I'll give it all back to you." I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my jacket, leaving only my camisole.

Creeps in the livestream immediately started commenting on my body.

Julian had his arm around Chloe's waist, watching me coldly, convinced I wouldn't dare strip off the last piece of fabric.

But with a blank expression, I slid the strap down, making the crew behind the cameras gasp.

Julian shoved the woman away, lunged forward, and pinned me to the floor, throwing a bath towel over my head.

"Scarlett! As long as you're still Mrs. Hayes, don't you dare act like a cheap whore!"

"Keep looking and I'll gouge your eyes out!" Julian snarled at the cameramen.

"Get the hell out!"

They dropped their equipment and scrambled out of the room.

I picked up my jacket and pulled it back on, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. "Divorce me."

"Since you love acting so much, let's give the audience a good look!" Julian aimed a camera right at my face.

The harder I cried, the more hyped the viewers became.

I turned to Julian. "I mean it this time. I really want a divorce."

His gaze darkened, his fingers clamping onto my chin. "Think carefully! Think about your comatose mother and your sick brother."

"I can cut off their medical bills at any second."

He demanded harshly, "Didn't you drive Bianca away just to become Mrs. Hayes, to wallow in luxury and keep your family alive with my money?"

Julian always believed that his grandmother and I teamed up to chase Bianca away, and that pulling him from the crash was just a scheme to force him into marriage.

He despised everything about me, convinced that even the genuine care I gave him after the accident was all an act.

I was too exhausted to explain anymore.

"It hurts so bad! She stepped on my foot earlier!" Chloe whined.

Julian forced me down onto my knees in front of Chloe. "You messed up. Apologize to her!"

He tossed a first-aid kit at me. "Treat her foot!"

Her pale toes didn't have the slightest mark or swelling on them.

Over the years, each of the Bianca lookalikes had been more spoiled and entitled than the last.

If I showed the slightest hesitation or if they complained about my service, Julian would force me to kneel and apologize.

He claimed this was the price I paid for driving Bianca away, a debt I owed her.

Just because I accidentally ruined the previous substitute's dress in the wash, Julian had his men leave my brother at the top of the stairs.

My brother rolled all the way down, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

After that, I never dared say no to Julian again.

"I'm sorry, Miss Chloe."

I smeared ointment over Chloe's foot.

My obedience made the viewers lose interest.

"Newbies probably don't know, but Mrs. Hayes serving the new girl is a regular segment here."

"Man, she really can swallow anything!"

But the more compliant I was, the more irritated Julian became.

With a stormy face, he tied me to a chair, placing a large canvas in front of me.

He pointed the camera at our king-sized bed. The woman crawled onto it, striking seductive poses.

The most ironic part was that our giant wedding portrait was still hanging right above the headboard.

Tens of thousands of people flooded into the stream.

"Damn, Julian is really going all in tonight!"

"The real show is about to start!"

He shoved a paintbrush into my hand and smirked. "Go on, great artist. Make sure you paint us well!"

He stripped Chloe of her bridal gown without hesitation.

Before he dove into bed with her, I threw a red cloth over the camera lens.

The chat went wild—

"Crazy!"

"That's brutal though... having your own husband do that right in front of you..."

Ignoring the comments, I listened to the vulgar noises beside me and calmly painted the explicit scene.

This was the last time.

During every stream, Julian forced me to paint an oil painting of them at their most passionate moments.

The subjects were Julian and the women, except he always ordered me to paint Bianca's face on them.

If it wasn't realistic enough, he would make me repaint it until he was satisfied.

The previous seven paintings hung all over the villa. Whenever I looked up, I saw them. He loved seeing the agony on my face.

The moment they finished, I finished my painting.

Julian draped white gauze over the intimate parts and ordered me to hold it up for the livestream.

I obeyed without a word.

Seeing my total lack of emotion, Julian suddenly snapped, snatching the canvas from my hands and slamming it to the floor.

He ordered me to move on to the next routine, and I obediently handed over the lingerie I had picked out earlier.

Growing thoroughly irritated, Julian shoved me out onto the balcony and locked the door.

Only a floor-to-ceiling glass wall separated the balcony from the bedroom, and the lights inside blazed all night.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was the hospital caregiver. "Your mother suffered cardiac arrest! She needs emergency surgery right now—get here and sign the consent form!"