The Quiet Burn

By the third year of Roxanne Duranov's affair, Fredrick Tatham had finally become the husband she had always wanted. He no longer barged into hotels in the middle of the night to catch her with another man. He no longer demanded to know where she had spent the night. Nor did he resort to desperate acts of self-harm in a frantic attempt to hold on to a woman whose heart had long since drifted away. He had become as inconspicuous as an ordinary piece of furniture in the villa, quiet and unobtrusive, never making his presence felt. Then, one day, the hospital called. An urgent voice came through the phone. "Hello, am I speaking to Ms. Duranov's husband? She's been in a serious car accident and needs emergency surgery. We need a family member to come to the hospital immediately to sign the consent forms." Fredrick held the phone to his ear, his gaze fixed on the television screen. Chapter 1 The local news played on the television. "A multi-vehicle pileup has occurred on the ring expressway. Among the vehicles involved was a car carrying Roxanne Duranov, the Duranov Group's CEO. "According to witnesses, Ms. Duranov shielded her male companion, Jaxon Serra, with her own body at the moment of impact. She sustained severe injuries, while Mr. Serra escaped with only minor injuries. "Her actions speak volumes about how much she treasures Mr. Serra. It seems the position of husband to the Duranov Group's CEO may soon be changing hands..." The camera panned across the wreckage before settling on a blurred but familiar figure on a stretcher in the distance. Fredrick watched without a flicker of emotion. His eyes remained as still as a pond without a single ripple. Then he spoke quietly into the phone. "You've got the wrong number." He ended the call and switched off the television. … A week later, Roxanne returned home. Gauze still covered a cut on her temple, and her complexion was pale, but neither detracted from her striking beauty nor the reckless confidence she usually exuded. When she stepped through the door, she found Fredrick curled up on the sofa with a novel in his hands and a cup of warm milk within reach. The sight of him so peaceful made her blood boil. She had spent a week in the hospital, wracked with pain and unable to sleep at night, yet he hadn't even bothered to call her once. "Fredrick Tatham!" She crossed the room in a few strides, her voice hoarse with barely restrained fury. "Didn't you know I was in a car accident?" Fredrick turned a page without looking up. "I knew." His indifferent response left her momentarily speechless. "You knew?" She stared at him in disbelief. "You knew, and you still didn't come to sign the forms? You didn't come to take care of me? You couldn't even be bothered to visit me once? Fredrick, I'm your wife!" Fredrick finally raised his eyes to meet hers. His expression was calm, with a faint hint of confusion. "Wasn't that what you told me to do? You said I shouldn't call myself your husband in public unless absolutely necessary, and that I shouldn't show up in front of you because it would upset your Jax. I did exactly as you asked. What have I done wrong this time?" He paused, his tone as earnest as if they were discussing a routine work procedure. "Why don't you make me a list? I'll follow it to the letter so I won't upset you again." Roxanne's throat tightened as though something had lodged in it. She stared at the slight furrow between his brows. He genuinely seemed to be considering how he could do better. All at once, her fury vanished, replaced by a bone-deep chill and a confusion she couldn't put into words. "Fredrick, you..." Her voice sounded dry and strained. "What's happened to you?" Fredrick frowned, even more perplexed. "What's changed about me? I don't check up on you. I don't make scenes. "When you bring Jaxon home, I move into the guest room without a word. When you buy him a car, I even help you choose the model. I've done everything you've asked, Roxanne. What more do you want from me?" Once again, Roxanne had no answer. He was right. Wasn't this exactly what she had wanted? A husband who minded his own business, never caused trouble, and gave her all the freedom she needed to love another man. So why did her chest feel so hollow now that he had finally become that husband? Just then, her phone rang. The screen lit up with the name "Jax" and his profile picture, a selfie in which he was pouting at the camera. She instinctively glanced at Fredrick, but he had already returned to his novel as though he hadn't heard a thing. After a moment's hesitation, she answered. "Roxy!" Jaxon's excited voice came through the phone. "I finished my thesis! Now I can finally spend some quality time with you. I bought that outfit you said you wanted last time. I'm home waiting for you..." The suggestive undertone was unmistakable. Roxanne's heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't resist another glance at Fredrick. But his expression remained completely unchanged. There was no anger, no humiliation, not even the slightest hint of displeasure. Instead, he rose from the sofa, opened a drawer, and retrieved several unopened boxes of condoms. Then he placed them in her hands. "You should get going. Oh, and these are the ones we never got around to using. There's no point letting them go to waste. Take them and use them with Mr. Serra." He considered something for a moment before he added in an almost thoughtful tone, "Of course, you don't have to use them. In fact, it would be even better if you and Mr. Serra had a child together." A deafening roar filled Roxanne's head. Shock, disbelief, and a sharp, stinging pain overwhelmed her. The sheer absurdity of his words left her reeling. He actually wanted her to take something meant for their marriage and use it with another man? Worse, he was encouraging her to have another man's child? Jaxon's voice came through the phone again. "Roxy? Why aren't you saying anything?" Roxanne snapped out of her daze and hastily ended the call. She clutched the cold box so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "I get it now." She seized on the thought like a lifeline, and her voice grew firm, almost mocking. "Fredrick, you're doing all this to win me back, aren't you? I've already told you that I love Jax more now. Whatever little scheme you're trying to pull, it won't work!" Fredrick looked at her with weary resignation, almost as though she were an unreasonable child who refused to listen no matter how patiently someone explained things. "Roxanne," he said with a soft sigh. "If that's what you want to believe, then go ahead." He continued, "Now, you'd better get going. Don't keep Jaxon waiting. Everything's fine here, so you have nothing to worry about. There's no need to rush back." Before Roxanne could recover from her shock, he gently ushered her toward the door. "Fredrick! What the hell are you—" The door slammed shut in her face with a decisive bang. Roxanne stood outside, clutching the box as though it were a burning coal. Fury and an unfamiliar sense of dread churned in her chest. Had he seriously thrown her out of the house? And all so she could go be with Jaxon? She glared at the closed door and growled, "Fredrick, I've already told you! Whatever game you're playing, it won't work on me!" She gave the wall a vicious kick before storming off with a dark expression. Inside, Fredrick leaned against the cold door and remained motionless for a moment. Only after he heard her car start and drive away did he slowly return to the living room. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Mr. Connors, it's Fredrick. I wanted to ask how the divorce proceedings are coming along. When can I expect to receive the papers?" Chapter 2 The lawyer's brisk, businesslike voice came through the phone. "Mr. Tatham, under normal procedures, the process will take at least two weeks." "That's too slow. I'll pay you double. Get this done as quickly as possible. I need the divorce papers before the end of the month," Fredrick said. The lawyer sounded surprised but quickly recovered. "Understood. I'll handle it as soon as possible." Fredrick ended the call and walked over to the large wedding photo that hung in the living room. In the photo, Roxanne wore a pure white wedding dress, her eyes full of happiness and love. He stood behind her with his arms around her, a broad smile on his handsome face. That was when they had been most in love, a time he had once believed would last forever. Fredrick reached out and lightly brushed his fingers across the cold frame, then across the photograph of his younger self, whose heart and eyes had once held nothing but Roxanne. In high school, Roxanne had been the school's notorious tyrant, the undisputed top dog. She was beautiful, and despite being a girl, she fought hard and often. She carried herself with reckless swagger, with a pack of followers who trailed behind her everywhere she went. She was the kind of legend who gave teachers headaches and made countless boys fall for her in secret. By contrast, he was a model student. Handsome and always ranked among the top three students in their grade, he was the kind of star student countless girls admired from afar but never dared approach. They came from two entirely different worlds, yet Roxanne fell for him at first sight. By her own account, it happened on a drowsy afternoon. She had climbed over the school wall to skip class, and the moment her feet hit the ground, she saw him hurry past with a stack of homework in his arms. That single glance was all it took. She fell hard. Then she began pursuing him with everything she had. Every day, without fail, she slipped breakfast and snacks into his desk. She skipped her own classes just to sneak up to the back door of his classroom for a glimpse of him. When she heard that a girl had written him a love letter, she cornered the girl in the bathroom for a "friendly chat." Whenever he had after-school cleanup duty, she brought her followers along to help, and they practically fought over who got to sweep. She knew he was afraid of the dark, so every night after late study sessions, she quietly walked him home. He felt uneasy and kept his distance. He did not think they belonged to the same world, so he set her a nearly impossible condition in the hope that she would give up on her own. "Roxanne, if you can rank among the top hundred students in our grade on the final exam, I'll consider being with you." He was certain she could not do it. But the brash girl stared at him for a long moment, then nodded firmly. "Deal! You said it yourself!" Over the following months, she became a different person. She stopped skipping class and fighting. She buried herself in practice problems day and night until everyone around her was convinced she had lost her mind. On the day the final rankings went up, she dragged him to the announcement board. Her name was right there, in 98th place. Her eyes blazed with excitement. She ran up to him, her voice trembling. "Fredrick! I did it! You've got to keep your promise!" In that moment, as he looked at the love that burned in her eyes, he fell for her without reservation. They stayed together from high school through college. Then came the day she met his parents. They firmly opposed the relationship, convinced that Roxanne was unreliable, that a woman like her had no future and did not deserve him. He fought bitterly with his parents, nearly severed ties with them, and moved out to live with her in a cramped, run-down rented room. He still remembered that winter night. The rented room had no heat and was as cold as an icebox. Roxanne's eyes reddened. She gripped his hands, which were raw from the cold, and her voice broke. "Freddy, I swear it. I'll love you for the rest of my life. I'm going to make something of myself. I'll make your parents see me differently, and I'll give you a good life." He only smiled. "As long as it's you, I don't care what happens to me." He lived with her in a basement apartment, where they ate plain pasta. Every time her early ventures ran into trouble, he handed over all the scholarship money he had earned to keep her afloat, and he stayed by her side to encourage her. During their hardest stretch, the two of them had only half a packet of pasta left. She gave all of it to him and drank cold water throughout the night. Eventually, her business began to turn around and grew larger by the year. On the day her company rang the opening bell at its IPO, she stood beneath the flashing cameras, radiant with triumph, and the first person she thanked was him. She said, "Without my husband, Fredrick Tatham, there would be no Roxanne Duranov standing here today." She bought him expensive watches and jewelry, a luxury car, and a mansion, and took him traveling all over the world. Everyone said Fredrick was a lucky man to have found a woman like Roxanne, who was beautiful, wealthy, and devoted all at once. He believed it too. He believed the hard years were behind them and their happiness would last forever. But little by little, she began coming home later and later. Then, for the first time, he found traces of another man in her car. He followed her. Outside a private room in an upscale restaurant, he watched as she pulled a college student into her arms and kissed him. The young man's name was Jaxon Serra, and his features bore a faint resemblance to Fredrick's own. In that moment, his entire world collapsed. He broke down and rushed inside, nearly hysterical as he demanded answers, then hurled a water glass from the table at them. In the chaos, she shoved him away. He fell hard, and his head struck a chair. Blood soaked through his clothes. When he woke in the hospital, Roxanne was kneeling beside his bed. She sobbed, swore she would cut Jaxon off completely, and begged him to forgive her. He stared at the pale ceiling, his heart as cold as ash, and nodded anyway. He still held on to the last scraps of love buried in his heart and could not bring himself to let go. But it was not long before he walked in on them a second time, this time in the new apartment she had bought. Once again, it was Jaxon. He attacked Jaxon like a man gone mad, but Roxanne threw herself between them and held him back. "Fredrick, don't hit him! If you want to hit someone, hit me!" Jaxon cowered behind her, while Fredrick stood there like a pathetic, ridiculous clown. Consumed by grief, he threatened to end his life unless she cut things off with Jaxon for good. She agreed and swore an oath to the sky. Then came the third time. At the anniversary dinner he had carefully prepared for her, she received a phone call and rushed out. An impulse made him follow her. He found her again, drunk, as she followed Jaxon into a hotel. In that moment, he did not even have the strength left to feel the pain. He went home and swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills. After he was revived, Roxanne stayed at his bedside. Her face showed little sympathy, only deep impatience and exhaustion. She said, "Fredrick, can you please stop making scenes? I admit it. I loved you, loved you like I was out of my mind. But maybe it was too intense back then, because now it feels like that love's run dry. I can't work up any interest in it anymore. "Jax makes me feel good. Easy, fresh. Sometimes, I even think if I'd met him sooner, I might not have ended up with you at all. "But you've stayed with me for all these years. I'm not without a conscience. I won't divorce you. But I can't let go of Jax either." She looked at him, barely clinging to life, and said the words that finally killed whatever was left in his heart. "From now on, can you and Jax just... coexist peacefully?" This time, Fredrick did not cry or argue. He did not shed a single tear. He only looked at her quietly for a long while. Then he gave a small nod. "Fine." From that day on, he put away every sharp edge, every trace of love and hate, every feeling he had. He became exactly the husband she had wanted: quiet, obedient, the Duranov Group CEO's husband, who seemed to barely exist at all. Then, without her knowledge, he secretly retained a lawyer and began filing for divorce. When he had loved her most, he had been like a man who was slowly unraveling: sensitive, suspicious, consumed by the fear of losing her, and prone to hysteria. But once that love had drained away bit by bit and his heart had truly died, he could finally breathe like a normal person, live like a normal person, and calmly wait to leave. Chapter 3 Over the next few days, Fredrick began clearing out the house. He packed his belongings into suitcases, one after another, and tossed whatever he couldn't take into garbage bags. Once he finished packing, he suddenly remembered another property under his name: the old apartment in the historic district. It was the place that held all their memories, the cramped apartment they had rented during the longest, hardest years of their lives. After Roxanne became successful, she had bought it outright and given it to him, calling it "the place where our love began, yours to keep forever." Now that their love was gone, he saw no reason to keep the apartment. He contacted a real estate agent and arranged to sell it. After discussing the details, the agent asked him to meet her at the property to hand over the keys and let her take some photographs. Fredrick agreed. … When Fredrick arrived with the agent and unlocked the familiar door with his spare key, the sight that greeted him stopped him cold. In the bedroom, two bodies were tangled together in the throes of passion: Roxanne and Jaxon. "Roxy, why'd you suddenly bring me here? This place is so run-down..." Jaxon asked breathlessly. Roxanne's voice was low with desire. "Because this is where I came from, Jax. I want you to be part of my future, but I want you to cover my past, too. That way, my entire life, from beginning to end, will belong completely to you." 'Cover... her past?' Fredrick stood outside the bedroom, peering through a gap in the old doorframe. Everything beyond it was painfully familiar, yet suddenly foreign. A chill spread through his entire body. It was in this very living room that they had once squeezed together on a secondhand sofa, watched rented movies, argued over the plots, and laughed until their stomachs hurt. It was in that cramped kitchen that he had cooked for her for the first time. He had burned the food, but she had happily eaten every bite, declaring, "If my husband made it, I'd eat it even if it were poison." And it was on that same creaky bed that they had held each other through countless freezing nights, their only source of warmth. She had kissed his forehead and promised, "Freddy, once I have money, I'll buy you the biggest house and the softest bed in the world." Was this the past Roxanne wanted Jaxon to cover? A sharp pain ripped through Fredrick's chest, as though someone had driven a barbed nail deep into his heart and twisted it mercilessly through the flesh. The agony was so intense that he could barely breathe. Just then, the sounds from the bedroom ceased. "Who's out there?" Roxanne called, her voice suddenly wary. A moment later, the bedroom door flew open. Roxanne had hastily slipped into a robe, but faint marks were still visible along her collarbone. The instant she spotted Fredrick in the living room, her expression changed. For once, a flicker of panic crossed her face. "Fredrick? What are you doing here?" Fredrick's gaze passed over her before settling on Jaxon, who was scrambling to cover himself behind her. "You can bring Jaxon here, but I can't come?" His voice trembled. "Isn't this the apartment you gave me?" Roxanne faltered. Humiliation flashed across her face, only to give way to anger. "I only brought Jax because... we happened to be passing by. We didn't plan this. I promise it won't happen again." Fredrick took a deep breath and forced himself to suppress the pain in his chest. "It's fine. You can be together wherever you want." He stepped aside and gestured toward the agent behind him. The young woman looked as though she wished the floor would swallow her whole. "For now, though, I'd appreciate it if you could step aside. The agent needs to take photographs of the property," Fredrick said flatly. 'An agent?' Only then did Roxanne notice the woman behind Fredrick, with a camera and folder in her hands. Her pupils contracted. She stared at him in disbelief. "You... You're selling the apartment? Why? This is where our love began! It holds all our memories. How could you sell it?" Fredrick found her outrage almost laughably absurd. 'So you do remember what this place means to us. Then why did you bring your new lover here to trample all over those memories?' His face remained expressionless, save for the faint, humorless curve of his lips. "So you don't approve of me selling it?" "Of course I don't!" Roxanne snapped. "This apartment means something to us. It's special." Fredrick raised his eyes to meet hers. "Fine. Then I'll give you a choice. "My birthday is coming up. You once promised that, at the very least, you'd let me keep my dignity on that day. "So this year, you can choose my birthday gift. Either I sell the apartment, or you agree not to see Jaxon for three days. Which will it be?" Roxanne froze. She studied Fredrick's calm, resolute expression before turning to glance at Jaxon. 'Three days without seeing Jax?' He was so dependent on her now, so insecure. If she disappeared for three whole days, how badly would he fall apart? And how much would she miss him? 'But selling the apartment…' It was a part of her history with Fredrick, a precious memory she had once sworn to preserve forever. "Fredrick, don't do this..." She softened her voice, hoping to persuade him. "This apartment means something different to us. We can't sell it. As for Jax, I—" "Choose," Fredrick cut her off. His voice was quiet but firm, with a finality that left no room for argument. Roxanne searched his eyes, but there was no emotion left in them. That inexplicable panic rose in her chest once more. All at once, she realized that she was truly beginning to lose her hold over him. The realization unsettled her. For one brief moment, she hesitated. But then Jaxon called her name, and the sound of his voice settled the matter. "Fine." Her voice was dry and strained as she averted her gaze. "Sell the apartment." Chapter 4 Fredrick wasn't the least bit surprised. He didn't even bother to look at her again. Instead, he simply gestured to the agent. "Go ahead and take the photos." The young agent looked as though she'd just been granted a pardon. With her head down and camera in hand, she hurried into the bedroom, snapped a few photos of the key areas, and fled the suffocating apartment as if her life depended on it. "Mr. Tatham, I'll find a buyer as soon as possible," she called from the doorway before racing down the stairs. Fredrick was about to leave as well when Roxanne caught up to him, with Jaxon close behind her, and grabbed his wrist. "Freddy, it's already past noon. Since we're all here anyway, why don't we have lunch together? Just the three of us." The corners of Fredrick's mouth twitched. He almost laughed aloud. 'You want your own husband to sit down and share a meal with your lover? Roxanne, you really know how to humiliate a man.' He was about to refuse, his voice already cold, when a sudden crash rang out overhead. A second-floor window, weakened by years of neglect, shattered without warning. Jagged shards of glass rained down on him and Jaxon. In that split second, Roxanne lunged toward Jaxon. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him tightly against her chest, and turned her back to shield him from the falling glass. Fredrick stood alone where she'd released him. He barely had time to raise his arms to protect his head and face before the glass struck. Agony ripped through him as sharp fragments sliced through his sleeves and dug deep into his flesh. Pain erupted across his shoulder, arm, and back all at once. Warm blood gushed from his wounds and soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt. Before he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw was Roxanne frantically examining Jaxon for injuries. "Jax! Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?" her voice was tinged with a panic she'd never once shown for him. She didn't spare a single glance for her husband, who stood behind her, covered in blood. Fredrick slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. The pain was unbearable. Yet he could no longer tell which hurt more: the deep, bloody wounds across his body or the hollow ache in his heart, a wound that had never truly healed. Then darkness swallowed him completely. … Fredrick had no idea how much time had passed before a faint awareness returned. He could feel himself jostle with each hurried movement. He realized someone was rushing him through the hospital. The urgent voices of doctors and nurses reached him through the haze. "Multiple glass lacerations and significant blood loss. He needs immediate surgery." "Get the blood bags ready. Notify the operating room." Just as the medical staff wheeled him toward the operating room, hurried footsteps approached. It was Roxanne. Gauze still covered her temple, and her face was tight with barely concealed panic. She stepped directly in front of the gurney. "Wait." She turned to the nurse, her tone firm and commanding. "Jax is hurt. He has a clotting disorder, and the bleeding won't stop. Fredrick has the same blood type as him. Delay his surgery and draw some blood for Jax first." The nurse froze. She glanced at Fredrick, who lay on the gurney, barely conscious. "We can't do that, Ms. Duranov," she said hesitantly. "Your husband has already lost a dangerous amount of blood. If we take any more, he could die." "Just take a little. It won't kill him." Roxanne's voice hardened, her eyes bloodshot. "I'm his wife. I have the authority to make this decision. Draw his blood. Now." "But—" "No buts!" Roxanne snapped, her voice trembling with fury. Her sheer intensity made the nurse flinch. "Don't forget whose name is on this hospital. If anything happens to Jax, every single one of you can pack your things and leave. And this hospital won't be in business much longer either!" she threatened. The nurse shrank beneath her furious glare. She exchanged uneasy looks with the other medical staff, who appeared equally reluctant to comply. But faced with Roxanne's threats, she eventually gave in, despite her obvious distress. "I'll... prepare the blood draw." A cold needle pierced Fredrick's pale arm, where his veins were barely visible beneath his skin. Bright red blood slowly flowed through the tubing and into the collection bag. He could almost feel his remaining strength leave him with every drop, as though the blood they took was carrying away what little life he had left. Through the fog of his fading consciousness, an old memory surfaced. Years ago, he'd been involved in a serious car accident. His life had hung by a thread, and the hospital's blood supply had been dangerously low. Back then, Roxanne had been nearly frantic with desperation. She'd disregarded the fact that their blood types were incompatible and seized the doctor by the collar, her eyes blazing. "Take mine! I'm his wife! Take as much as you need! You have to save him! He can't die!" She'd remained outside the operating room, praying desperately. She'd even got down on her knees to pray to gods she didn't believe in, until her knees bled, too distraught to notice the pain. When he'd finally pulled through, she'd clung to him and sobbed like a child who had lost everything and miraculously gotten it all back. "Freddy, you scared me to death," she'd cried, her voice breaking. "I can't lose you. I can't!" But now? For the sake of another man, she hadn't hesitated for a second to sacrifice him, even if it meant putting his life at risk. 'Roxanne, when did you stop loving me?' … When Fredrick regained consciousness, he found himself in a hospital bed. He struggled to open his eyes and noticed a nurse nearby, who was busy updating his medical records. When she saw that he was awake, she sighed with relief. Yet there was something else in her eyes, a mixture of pity and reluctance. "Mr. Tatham, thank goodness you're awake. You've just come out of surgery, so you need plenty of rest." She hesitated before continuing, "And... your sperm duct was removed during the operation. Please make sure you rest and take your medication as prescribed." 'My sperm duct? Removed?' Fredrick stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what he'd just heard. "What... What did you say?" The nurse averted her gaze. When she repeated herself, her words struck him like a thunderbolt, piercing through the numbness that had settled over his heart. "Your sperm duct was removed. Ms. Duranov personally authorized the procedure. From now on... you won't be able to have children," she said timidly. Chapter 5 'Unable to have children…' The four words pierced his ears like an icy needle, and his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. Just then, the door opened. Roxanne entered and motioned for the nurse to leave. The door closed softly behind her, shutting out the rest of the world. She approached the bedside and looked at Fredrick's paper-white face. Her steps faltered, and a flicker of complicated emotion crossed her features. "Freddy," she began, her voice dry and strained. "Let me explain. When Jax got hurt this time, I was worried about him, so I arranged for him to have a full medical examination. The results came back... He has a congenital deformity of the sperm duct. He'll never be able to have children. "When he found out, he completely fell apart. He was terrified I'd leave him because he couldn't give me children. He kept threatening to kill himself, and nothing I said or did could calm him down." She took a deep breath, as though she had finally gathered the courage to say what came next, and met Fredrick's hollow gaze. "So... to make Jax feel that things were fair, to stop him from spiraling, and to prove that I'd never think less of him for not being able to have children... I had the doctors, during your surgery..." She hesitated before forcing out the rest. "Remove your sperm duct too." Each word seared itself into Fredrick's already shattered heart like a red-hot brand. His eyes widened. He stared at the woman before him, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. This was the woman he had loved for ten years. The woman he had once believed he would spend the rest of his life with. Yet to keep her lover happy and prove she would never look down on him, she had actually ordered the doctors to remove her own husband's sperm duct. She had robbed him of any chance of fathering a child. All because her lover couldn't have children, her husband wasn't allowed to have them either? Was that supposed to make things fair? Was that how she intended to make her lover feel better? Was that enough to stop him from threatening suicide? It was absurd, grotesque, and cruel beyond anything words could express. A broken, breathless sound escaped Fredrick's throat. His mouth opened, but no words came. He could only gasp for air. He wanted to roar. He wanted to scream. But the crushing weight of his fury and grief constricted his throat. All he could do was clutch his chest as tears poured down his face and soaked the pillow beneath his head. His chest ached as though something had been brutally torn from it, leaving a raw, bloody wound. An icy chill seemed to seep through the wound, freezing his organs until they seized. The sight of him frightened Roxanne. He looked so deathly pale that she rushed forward and reached for his cold hand. "Freddy! Freddy, please don't scare me like this! I know I was wrong. Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want! I'll take it. I won't fight back. Just please, don't do this..." Fredrick curled into himself in agony, his entire body convulsing with pain. His eyes brimmed with despair and regret so profound that they threatened to consume him. He regretted it. 'Mom… Dad…' With every fiber of his being, he regretted ever falling in love with Roxanne. … Fredrick had no idea how much time passed before he finally emerged from the depths of his despair. He summoned the last of his strength and shoved her hand away. His gaze turned utterly cold as he stared at her, and he struggled to force two hoarse, broken words past the suffocating pain in his throat. "Give... money." Roxanne froze, unsure whether she had heard him correctly. "What... What did you say?" Fredrick lifted his head. Tears streaked his face, but his eyes were icy and unwavering. "For removing my sperm duct. Give me 40,000,000 dollars." Roxanne went completely still. 'Fredrick... is asking me for money?' He had never cared about money. In the past, whenever work kept her too busy to spend time with him, she would transfer large sums of money to his account or buy him luxury cars to make up for her absence. But he had always told her, "Roxanne, I don't want money. I just want your love. I just want you to spend more time with me." And now, after she had deliberately destroyed his chance of ever becoming a father, all he wanted from her was money? 'That amount is nothing to me. But the meaning behind his demand…' A growing sense of unease tightened her chest, and panic crept into her heart. "Freddy, you..." She struggled to find the right words. But Fredrick had already closed his eyes. Tears continued to slip silently down his cheeks, yet he refused to look at her again. Instead, he repeated his demand in a voice so calm that it was almost frightening. "40,000,000 dollars. Transfer it to my account. Now." His tone remained eerily composed, but the finality in his words left no room for argument. Roxanne stared at him. He looked so pale and broken, yet his expression was colder and more distant than she had ever seen. She swallowed several times before she could finally speak. In the end, she took out her phone and called her assistant. "Transfer 40,000,000 dollars from my personal account to my husband's account right now." She ended the call and turned back to him. Her lips parted, but none of the explanations or comforting words she had prepared seemed worth saying. Against his cold silence, every excuse felt hollow, every attempt at reassurance absurd. Another knock sounded at the door. A nurse poked her head inside, her voice urgent. "Ms. Duranov, Mr. Serra is getting agitated again. He keeps asking for you..." Roxanne sprang to her feet almost immediately. "Freddy, the money will be in your account soon. You... get some rest. I need to check on Jax. I'll come see you again when I have time." With that, she turned and hurried out of the room, almost as though she feared that another moment in the suffocating atmosphere would leave her consumed by his despair and icy silence. Only after the door closed did Fredrick finally open his eyes. Every hope he had ever held for the future, every dream of having a family and becoming a father, was gone. The very woman he had once loved with all his heart had deliberately and mercilessly destroyed it all. He bit down on his lower lip until he tasted blood, desperate to suppress the sob that threatened to tear its way out of his throat. Chapter 6 Roxanne did not visit again over the next several days. Fredrick remained alone in the hospital, quietly recovering. The nurses occasionally gossiped about how attentive Roxanne was to Jaxon in the VIP room, catering to his every whim. Fredrick listened without a word, his expression unreadable. His physical wounds slowly healed, but the emptiness in his chest only deepened, growing colder with each passing day. On the day of his discharge, he took a taxi home. As they passed an upscale club, he suddenly asked the driver to pull over. "Here's fine." He stepped out and looked up at the club's glittering sign. Roxanne often frequented places like that to entertain business associates, but Fredrick had never accompanied her. He had no taste for the noise or the empty pleasantries. Yet today, for reasons he couldn't explain, he walked inside. Lights flashed, and music thundered through the club. He found a quiet booth tucked away at the back and ordered a bottle of hard liquor. He poured himself one glass after another, drinking each without hesitation. The liquor burned down his throat and into his stomach, but he welcomed the pain. Perhaps it could numb his battered heart, if only for a moment. Nothing else had managed to ease the ache. Even with his pale complexion and plain clothes, Fredrick was handsome enough to attract more than a few admiring glances as he drank alone. Before long, a woman in a black evening gown and expensive jewelry approached with a drink in hand. "Hey, handsome. All alone? Mind if I buy you a drink? Maybe we could exchange numbers?" Fredrick raised his bleary eyes toward her and parted his lips to answer. Before he could speak, a familiar voice rang out, barely restrained fury evident in every word. "He's my husband. Get lost." Roxanne had appeared out of nowhere. She stepped in front of Fredrick and fixed the woman with an icy glare, her imposing presence enough to make the atmosphere turn tense. The woman clearly recognized her. Her expression changed instantly. "I'm sorry, Ms. Duranov! I had no idea he was your husband! I'll leave right away!" She hurried off, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. Roxanne turned toward Fredrick. The moment she saw his unfocused, drunken gaze, her anger erupted. "Fredrick! What are you doing in a place like this? And why are you drinking so much? If I hadn't shown up, were you planning to give that woman your number? Have you forgotten that you're my husband?" she demanded. Fredrick stared at her furious face and let out a low, bitter laugh, his voice thick with alcohol and mockery. "Husband?" He repeated the word as though it were the funniest thing he had ever heard. "Not for much longer." Roxanne didn't quite catch his words. "What did you say?" "Roxy!" Jaxon's voice interrupted them. He came up beside Roxanne and affectionately linked his arm through hers. Only then did he seem to notice Fredrick. "Oh, Freddy's here too? What a coincidence!" He turned to Roxanne with a smile. "Since we've run into him, why don't we invite Freddy to hang out with us in our private room? Didn't you say you wanted us to get along?" Roxanne frowned and glanced at Fredrick, clearly hesitant. Before she could respond, Jaxon seized Fredrick's arm. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Come on, Freddy. The more, the merrier!" The alcohol had already gone to Fredrick's head. He tried to pull away, but Jaxon wouldn't let go. Instead, he practically dragged Fredrick into their private room. The room was crowded with guests, most of whom belonged to Roxanne's social circle. Several young men were also present. When everyone saw Roxanne enter with both Jaxon and Fredrick, the conversations briefly faltered. An awkward silence settled over the room. Jaxon, however, remained cheerful. "Don't stop on our account, everyone! Freddy's joining us!" Someone soon suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Jaxon lost the very first round. His dare was to approach a strange woman and persuade her to give him her necklace. Roxanne immediately frowned and grabbed his arm. "Jax, don't. I'll drink the penalty for you." Jaxon laughed and gently freed himself from her grip. "It's just a game. I can handle a little punishment. Don't get jealous, Roxy." He gave her a quick kiss before leaving the room. Roxanne's expression darkened as she watched him go, her gaze fixed on the door. Before long, Jaxon returned with a necklace in his hand and a triumphant grin on his face. However, a visibly intoxicated woman had followed him inside. Her eyes lingered on Jaxon as she approached. "Handsome, I gave you my necklace. Surely one kiss isn't too much to ask?" She leaned forward to kiss him. "Do you have a death wish?!" Roxanne's furious roar silenced the entire room. She sprang from the sofa, seized a bottle from the table, and smashed it against the woman's head without hesitation. Glass shattered. The woman screamed as blood gushed from her scalp. But Roxanne wasn't finished. She kicked the woman to the floor and continued attacking her, punching and kicking her repeatedly in a vicious frenzy. Jaxon panicked when he saw the woman collapse in a pool of blood. He rushed forward and desperately pulled Roxanne away. "Roxy, stop! You're going to kill her!" Only then did she stop. Her chest heaved with exertion, and fury still burned in her eyes. She cast a brief glance at the woman, who lay crumpled and bloodied on the floor, before turning to Jaxon, who was visibly shaken. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "We're leaving." Jaxon hesitated. "Roxy, your husband's still here." Roxanne stopped midstep and glanced back at Fredrick, who remained silent in the corner. A complicated emotion flickered across her face. But ultimately, her concern for Jaxon outweighed everything else. "He can get himself home." With those words, she slipped an arm around Jaxon and escorted him out without another glance. She left behind a room in chaos and, in a forgotten corner, the man who was still her husband in name. No one knew how much time had passed before the battered woman on the floor finally stirred. Barely conscious, she struggled to her feet and swayed unsteadily. Blood covered her face, and hatred blazed in her eyes. She swept her gaze across the room until it settled on Fredrick. "So... you're her husband." She staggered toward him, a strange, broken laugh escaping her throat. "That bitch nearly beat me to death over some man. Fine. Then I'll kill her husband instead. An eye for an eye." She snatched an empty whiskey bottle from the nearby table and swung it at Fredrick's head with all her strength. Chapter 7 The bottle came down. The first blow sent black spots bursting across Fredrick's vision, followed by a wave of searing pain. The second blow struck, and something warm blurred his sight. By the third, he could no longer feel the pain. The world spun before everything went completely dark. … When Fredrick woke up in the hospital again, there was no one by his side, just as before. Thick gauze covered his forehead, and bandages wrapped his shoulder and back. Even the slightest movement sent pain shooting through his body. Roxanne probably still had no idea that the woman she had beaten half to death for Jaxon's sake had taken out her rage on her own husband instead. Or perhaps she already knew and simply didn't care. She was probably too busy comforting a shaken Jaxon to spare Fredrick a single thought. He lay in the hospital bed and stared at the white ceiling, overcome by an exhaustion and desolation that seemed to seep from the depths of his bones. … Fredrick remained in the hospital for a few more days until the wound on his head had healed enough for him to leave. He took a taxi home, only to find Roxanne waiting for him in the living room. She sat on the sofa, her expression sour. The moment she saw him, she demanded, "Where have you been these past few days? Mary said you never came home." Fredrick didn't bother answering. He changed his shoes and headed for the stairs. "Stop right there," Roxanne called after him. "I'm talking to you." Fredrick paused and turned toward her, his eyes weary. "Is there something you need?" His tone caught her off guard for a moment. She swallowed her irritation and said, "Jax's first solo sculpture exhibition is today. He doesn't have many friends, so he wants you there to support him." Fredrick almost laughed. "Roxanne, since when is the husband supposed to be friends with the man his wife is having an affair with?" Her expression darkened. "Fredrick! I've told you before that you two need to coexist peacefully. Can't you be a little more generous?" Fredrick stared at her. She was so utterly convinced that her demands were reasonable that he suddenly felt too exhausted to argue. He knew that even if he refused, Roxanne cared enough about Jaxon's feelings to drag him there one way or another. What was the point of resisting? "Fine. I'll go," he replied flatly. Roxanne blinked, clearly surprised by his easy agreement. But she gave it little thought, assuming he had finally come to his senses or simply given up. "The car's out front. Let's go." … The exhibition took place at a newly opened art gallery. It was a grand, elaborate affair that had drawn a large crowd of socialites, journalists, and artists. It was obvious how much money Roxanne had spent to make Jaxon the center of attention. Dressed in a white suit, Jaxon moved through the crowd with a dazzling smile. When he spotted Roxanne, his eyes lit up, and he hurried over. "Roxy! You made it!" He slipped his arm through hers as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Then, as if he had only just noticed Fredrick, he put on a convincing look of surprise. "Freddy's here too? That's great! I was worried you wouldn't want to come." Fredrick's mouth twitched. "Congratulations." Jaxon's smile broadened. "Thanks, Freddy. Come on, let me show you around." The spacious gallery was divided into several sections. Each sculpture bore a hefty price tag and a detailed description of its concept and creative process. Wherever Jaxon went, people stopped him to offer their congratulations and praise. His smile grew brighter with every compliment. Roxanne said nothing, but the indulgent look on her face was impossible to miss. Fredrick followed quietly behind them, little more than an irrelevant bystander. When they reached the center of the gallery, Jaxon stopped and addressed the crowd around him. "I've prepared a little surprise for everyone. It's a video that looks back on my journey as a sculptor, from when I first started to where I am today. It also shares some of my thoughts and experiences along the way." He gestured for the staff to begin the screening. The lights dimmed, music swelled, and a series of images appeared on the screen. Some featured abstract sculptures, while others showcased more realistic works. But just as the video was about to end, the images abruptly changed. The screen no longer displayed sculptures or artistic photographs. Instead, it showed private photos of Jaxon, completely naked. His face instantly turned deathly pale. The room erupted into chaos. Reporters raised their cameras, and flashes went off in a frenzy. Roxanne finally snapped out of her shock and roared, "Turn it off! Turn it off right now!" The staff scrambled to shut off the screen, but it was already too late. Jaxon stood there trembling before he suddenly pointed at Fredrick. "Freddy! I've never done anything to hurt you! Why would you try to ruin me with something so filthy? Why?" Fredrick stared at him, struck by the sheer absurdity of the accusation. "What does any of this have to do with me?" "Who else would hate me enough to do something like this?" Jaxon spun toward Roxanne and clutched her hand. "Roxy, you have to make this right! I'm finished! I'll never be able to show my face in public again!" Roxanne comforted him before turning her gaze on Fredrick. Her eyes, once so full of reckless charm, were colder than he had ever seen them. "Fredrick Tatham." She spat out each syllable. "Are you satisfied now?" "I already told you. It wasn't me." "Who else could it have been?" Roxanne snarled, a vein bulging at her temple. "Fredrick, I know you hate Jax, but to humiliate him with something this filthy? Don't you think you've crossed the line? I never imagined you'd become such a vicious man." Fredrick stared at her. 'Vicious…' The word struck him like a blade to the chest, yet he had grown too numb to feel its sting. He let out a sudden laugh, his eyes reddening. "So that's what I am to you now, Roxanne? A vicious man?" She didn't answer, but the look in her eyes said everything. "Fine." Fredrick nodded, his smile more painful to behold than tears. "So what are you going to do about it? Call the police on me? Or lock me up again, like you used to, and force me to reflect on my sins?" His apparent indifference only fueled Roxanne's anger. He had ruined the exhibition she had worked so hard to organize for Jax. He had destroyed Jax's reputation. Yet he couldn't even muster a shred of remorse. "If you do something wrong, you have to pay for it." Her voice was icy. She turned to the assistant behind her and snapped, "Find every private photo of Fredrick you can get your hands on. Print them out and plaster them all over the city. Whatever humiliation Jax has suffered today, I want Fredrick to suffer a hundred times worse!" Chapter 8 Fredrick's pupils contracted sharply. He stared at her in disbelief, his blood running cold. "Roxanne! You wouldn't dare." Her eyes flashed with malice. She stepped forward, and before Fredrick could react, she raised her hand and struck the side of his neck with the edge of her palm. "Watch me." Pain shot through him as darkness engulfed his vision. Before he could even cry out, his body went limp, and he collapsed unconscious. … When Fredrick regained consciousness, he found himself lying in the middle of a street. Cold concrete pressed against his body. People hurried past him on every side, and the surrounding noise assaulted his ears. He braced his arms against the ground and struggled to sit up, but his entire body felt drained of strength, and his head throbbed painfully. Then he noticed the photographs scattered across the pavement. White sheets of paper littered the street, and every gust of wind carried them farther. Curious passersby stopped to pick them up, pointing and whispering among themselves. Some even sneered in open contempt. Fredrick stiffly turned his head toward the photograph nearest him. The man in the photograph was him, completely naked. The memory came rushing back. Long ago, Roxanne had insisted on taking those photographs. She had claimed she wanted something to remember him by and promised that no one but her would ever see them. He had believed her. Now those same photographs were scattered throughout the city. "God, who is this?" "He's actually pretty good-looking. Why would he let someone take pictures like that?" "Look at the one next to it. That pose is even more..." "If someone recognized him from these, how could he ever show his face in public again?" Every whispered remark pierced his ears like a needle. Fredrick trembled uncontrollably. He forced himself to his feet and frantically began gathering the photographs, but just as he reached for one, a stranger snatched it up. The man examined the photograph before looking at Fredrick, his gaze traveling over him with undisguised amusement. "Hey, isn't this the guy in the picture?" Fredrick felt as though something had exploded inside his skull. Humiliation, shame, fury, and despair overwhelmed him all at once. He spun around and stumbled away, desperate to find somewhere less crowded, somewhere he could escape the stares and the photographs. But no matter where he went, he couldn't escape them. Beside filthy trash cans, beneath crowded bus shelters, outside brightly lit storefronts, across the pavement, plastered on walls, and even stuck to the windshields of parked cars, those white sheets bore the images of his most intimate moments. They were everywhere. He desperately tried to collect them, using every last ounce of strength he possessed. The sharp edges of the paper cut into his fingers, and tiny beads of blood welled from the wounds, but he barely noticed the pain. Yet every time he managed to gather a handful, another gust of wind would carry more photographs down the street and scatter them across the pavement. Despair washed over him, cold and suffocating. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. After several rings, Roxanne answered. "Hello?" Fredrick opened his mouth, but no words came. "Fredrick?" She must have recognized his breathing. "Did you see the photos?" He remained silent, his teeth digging into his lower lip until he tasted blood. "That's what happens when you hurt Jax." Her voice turned icy, and every word carried an unmistakable warning. "Remember this lesson. Don't you ever lay a hand on him again." "Roxanne." Fredrick finally managed to speak. His voice was hoarse and broken, thick with tears and despair. "I hate you. I hate you." Silence settled over the other end of the line. A moment later, Roxanne spoke again, her voice colder than before, with an unmistakable edge of irritation and impatience. "Fine. Hate me all you want. Just know your place from now on." She hung up. Fredrick clutched his phone and sank helplessly to the pavement, too exhausted to move. The cold concrete pressed against him, but he no longer cared. All around him, people continued to point and whisper. Photographs of his naked body lay scattered across the ground, exposed to the eyes of countless strangers. Every stare, every sneer, and every whispered remark felt like another cut, slowly stripping away what little dignity he had left. Just as despair threatened to consume him completely, his phone rang again. This time, it was his lawyer. "Hello, Mr. Tatham. The divorce proceedings are complete. Both divorce certificates have been sent to your residence by courier, as you requested. Please check for them when you have a chance." For several seconds, Fredrick struggled to comprehend what he had heard. Then, like a drowning man who had finally found something to cling to, he felt a sudden glimmer of hope. He forced himself off the ground. Ignoring the pain that wracked his body and the curious stares of the people around him, he staggered forward, then broke into a desperate run toward home. He ran so recklessly that his wounds tore open, and blood seeped through his clothes. Yet he felt none of the pain. Only one thought kept him going, a beacon of hope amid the darkness. The divorce certificates had arrived. He could finally leave. Fredrick rushed into the cold, empty villa and headed straight for the living room. There, on the coffee table, sat a courier envelope, exactly as his lawyer had promised. His hands trembled as he tore it open. Inside were two documents. The words "Divorce Certificate" stood out starkly at the top of each page. Fredrick stared at those words for a long time, his eyes gradually stinging with tears. Then, without warning, tears streamed down his cheeks and fell onto the certificates, leaving dark, spreading stains on their surfaces. With trembling hands, he picked up one of the copies and carefully tucked it into his bag, as though it were something priceless. He handed the other to Mary Cooper, the housekeeper, who had hurried over at the sound of the commotion. Confusion filled her face. "Mary, give everyone on the household staff the rest of the day off, effective immediately." His voice was quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument. "And give this to Roxanne when she gets home." Mary accepted the envelope in a daze. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Fredrick had already turned toward the stairs. He went upstairs to the bedroom, opened the closet, and retrieved a suitcase from the very bottom. It was already packed. Everything was ready. He carried the suitcase downstairs, then paused in the living room to take one last look around. This was the house Roxanne had once designed especially for him. 'Our marital home…' She had personally selected every detail, from the furniture to the smallest decorations. She had promised to give him the warmest home imaginable, a place where they would spend their lives together and create a lifetime of memories. Now, all that remained were cold furnishings and the wreckage of their past. After dismissing the household staff, Fredrick went to the kitchen and retrieved a lighter. He then entered the storage room and took out an unopened bottle of liquor. He unscrewed the cap and poured its contents over the sofa, the carpet, and the curtains. Then he retreated toward the doorway and flicked the lighter. A flame sprang to life. Fredrick stood at the threshold, his face deathly pale, as the fire spread through the room and climbed toward the ceiling. Waves of heat washed over him. He watched for a moment longer. Then he turned, picked up his suitcase, and walked away without a backward glance. He was leaving this house. He was leaving Roxanne's world. Behind him, the flames climbed higher, and thick smoke billowed into the sky. With the glow of the fire at his back, Fredrick raised his hand and hailed a passing taxi. "The airport, please."