After prison, The scars on my wrist were a permanent reminder that Mason Holt and I could never go back to what we were. 1 My short hair was giving the makeup artist a headache. Half an hour later, Mason pushed the door open. "Is she ready?" "Mr. Holt, is this acceptable?" Mason's gaze fell on me, his eyes deepening with an unreadable intensity. "Elara. Look at yourself. Do you like it?" My eyes flickered for only a moment. Beside me, the makeup artist anxiously twisted her hands. In the past, my standards were impossibly high. I had to be the most dazzling woman in the room. But that was before. The woman I was now had just spent three years in prison. The long, proud hair I once cherished was gone, shorn away. "It's fine." 2 I took Mason's arm, and we descended the grand spiral staircase, walking into the full glare of the party. "Look, it's Elara Vance." "She's really out." I kept my head held high the entire time. A ghost of my former pride forbade me to bow. "Are you alright?" Before the person next to me could say more, guests were already approaching us. "Mason, congratulations. Heard you landed the ten-figure Triton contract for Holt Industries." Mason nodded in acknowledgment, clinking his glass with the man's. "I'm going to walk around for a bit. You handle things." I detached myself from his side and drifted toward the edge of the ballroom. In a quiet corner, I finally let out a long breath. "I heard she just got out yesterday." "Did Mason Holt really pick her up himself?" "Unlikely. Everyone knows the one he loves is Seraphina Curtis. His marriage to Elara is just for show." "True. Three years ago, she could have avoided a conviction, but the Holt family didn't lift a finger to help." The two women walked past, their faces paling when they saw me standing there. They scattered like startled birds. I narrowed my eyes, a chill seeping into my heart. 3 A stir went through the ballroom. "What's happening?" A waiter murmured, "The Curtis family just arrived. They presented a gilded sculpture by a renowned artist." I pressed my lips together. "The Curtiss really know how to make an entrance. A piece like that is practically priceless." "Heh, isn't that just a gift from the left hand to the right?" "You'll see. Seraphina Curtis will be marrying into the Holt family sooner or later." "Don't spread rumors." "Please. Mason only married Elara because her grandfather basically blackmailed him with the Vance family fortune. I heard there was a five-year contract involved." I turned my head, looking toward the source of the chatter, then walked away. 4 I returned to Mason's side. "Where did you go? Your hand is freezing." He turned and briefly clasped my hand in his. "Nowhere." Standing beside him, I was once again the center of attention. My gaze drifted to Seraphina, who stood quietly by her father's side. Our eyes met. There was no trace of provocation in her expression. She simply looked away, turning to greet an old friend. She was so gentle, yet it was as if a spotlight followed her, drawing the admiration of countless young heirs. But everyone knew she had been waiting for Mason for years. This married man, the most powerful figure in the city. Some said she was waiting in vain. But I knew the truth. It was a mutual longing. The whispers were all true. In all our years of marriage, Mason had never once touched me. 5 The party concluded after the 40th-anniversary appreciation ceremony. The guests departed, leaving the ballroom vast and empty. "Ma'am, how should we begin the cleanup?" The venue was one of the Holt family's estates. Before prison, I had always been the one to plan these events. I shook my head. "Just do as you see fit." Just then, Mason returned from seeing off the last guest. "Let's go back to Shorelight." 6 The car ride home was silent. He'd been drinking and sat with his eyes closed, resting. When we arrived, he went upstairs without a word. I sat in the living room, feeling adrift. "Ma'am, shall I help you with your makeup?" the housekeeper asked. "No, thank you. I'll do it myself later." I just looked up, watching the tall shadow of his back disappear down the upstairs corridor. "Ma'am seems like a different person since she's been back." "Well, it was prison. I hear it's a dark place. Who knows what she suffered in there." "I feel sorry for her, really. A husband who doesn't love her, and she was born a princess, only to end up in jail." "Remember that time a year ago when they took her out for medical treatment? I heard she tried to kill herself inside." I didn't go to the kitchen. I just picked up a carton of milk from the coffee table and quietly went upstairs. 7 In the bedroom, Mason came out of the bathroom to find me on the moonlit balcony, sipping from the carton of milk. "Why are you squatting there? There's a chair right next to you." I froze for a second, my mind catching up. My subconscious was still trapped in the habits of my cell. "Are you done showering?" I looked up, about to stand. But a wave of dizziness from my low blood sugar almost sent me tumbling. His strong arm shot out and steadied me. "Careful. Is it your hypoglycemia? I'll have the doctor come tomorrow and prescribe some medicine to help regulate it." I didn't respond. I just moved to the chair and sat, watching him with a puzzled expression. He was about to say something else when my phone, resting on the railing, lit up. It was a message from Leo. "Do you want a kitten? I'll give you one. It's adorable, you'll love it." Leo. I stared at the name, momentarily stunned. He'd requested to visit me during my three years in prison, but I had refused. I didn't want to see anyone. I picked up the phone, about to reply. "Get washed up and rest. I have an email to send from the study." Mason shrugged on a robe, his broad back turning as he walked out. I stared at the doorway, lit by a single wall sconce. It was just like three years ago. Every night, just before bed, he would always have "work to finish." And he would be gone for the entire night. The next morning, he would invariably tell me he'd worked too late and had just slept in the study. 8 Leo gave me an incredibly cute kitten. But I couldn't take it back to Shorelight. Mason disliked all small animals. "I'll look after him for now," Leo said. I cuddled the soft, warm ball of fur. "Elara," Leo said with a sudden smile, "has anyone ever told you that you're more like a cat now?" "You've actually always had a cat-like spirit." I didn't understand what he meant. He had already turned to get some cat food. In the end, the kitten stayed with Leo for the time being. 9 Since my release, I had barely gone out. The only time was to visit the kitten at Leo's. As for Mason, he was always busy. He left early and came back late; the evenings were the only time I saw him. But the story of my imprisonment never made it to the media. Mason had suppressed it—not to protect me, I suspected, but to protect the Holt family's name. "Come down for dinner." I turned. Mason was home. "Mrs. Gable said you've been in your room for hours. Are you not feeling well?" He took off his jacket and came over, raising a hand to touch my forehead. I flinched away. "I'm fine. Let's eat." His hand fell, empty. A few steps later, he caught up, and we went downstairs together. At the landing, I stopped abruptly. I clutched my bare wrist and turned back. "What's wrong?" "I forgot something. You go ahead." I hurried back upstairs, found the cool jade bangle on my vanity, and slipped it onto my wrist, hiding the tangled web of scars beneath. When I came back down, I was surprised to see Mason still waiting there. As I approached, his gaze fixed on my wrist, now covered by the bangle. "Elara. Let's go eat. I'm starving." 10 We ate in silence. "What's this?" After dinner, I went upstairs and found two dark blue cards on the round table in the sitting area. "An art exhibition. Do you want to go?" Mason asked, walking over. I saw the theme was "Starry Night." Among my few hobbies, cats were my favorite animal, and art galleries were my favorite pastime. "Are you going?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. He nodded. "The new project is wrapped up. I can take some time off. I'll go with you." I stared at him. "What is it? You don't want me to come?" I shook my head. "Then what's wrong?" The balcony doors were open, and a breeze drifted in. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. The warmth of his palm lingered on my skin. The air between us suddenly felt charged. I looked at him seriously. "Are you sure you can go? You're not busy?" "I'm sure. I'm going to make more time for you from now on. I've neglected you for too long." In the evening wind, he nodded, his expression firm, and slowly pulled me into his arms. "Give me a chance to make it up to you, okay?" Held in his warm embrace, I stared out into the night, stunned. With a soft rustle, the calendar on the wall flipped to a new day. 11 But if I had known what was to come, I would have avoided that exhibition at all costs. Mason did come, but he was too late. For many years after, I would wonder if the panic in his eyes that day was because the blood on the floor was mine. Or was it for some other reason? Not long after that day, we ceased to have any connection at all. 12 When I arrived at the gallery, Mason wasn't there yet. It was an invitation-only event, so it wasn't crowded. But even with so few people, when Bianca strode towards me, I still narrowed my eyes. "Elara?" I started to walk away, to another section. But she grabbed my wrist. "That scared of me?" I scoffed at her provocative smirk. "You should never overfeed a dog. It starts to think it's the master." "You—" She'd studied martial arts, and her grip was fueled by anger. I fought the urge to slap her. "This is an art gallery. I suggest you don't embarrass your family here." A security guard glanced our way, and she finally let go. We'd been enemies since school. I heard she'd even set off firecrackers to celebrate my three-year sentence. Since my grandfather passed away, her father had monopolized the industry our family once dominated. Her arrogance had grown with her fortune. "Did your husband tell you he had something important come up and couldn't make it?" she called out as I walked away. I paused, then kept walking. "Aren't you curious about the real reason he couldn't come?" she taunted, raising her voice to make sure I heard. "So concerned about my husband. Are you delusional?" I retorted, quickening my pace. But she ignored the quiet sanctity of the gallery and shouted, "Because he's with Seraphina! She called, and he ran! Heh. You'll always be the pathetic little stray he never wanted." My steps were fast, but my heart felt like it was suspended in mid-air, being squeezed, shattered, and ground into dust. 13 In another wing of the gallery, I stood silently before a painting. "You like Vernal Abode too?" I turned. It was Leo. "You're here too?" He smiled. "It's Master Callen's first overseas exhibition. I wouldn't miss it for the world." His smile was always as warm as the sun. He glanced over at Bianca, who was glaring at us from a distance. "Did she give you trouble just now?" I shook my head. "I've seen everything on this floor. I'm going to check out the second." "Elara. Snowball misses you. Come visit when you have time." "Okay." I went upstairs, and he continued in the other direction. 14 After leaving the gallery, my taxi hadn't arrived yet, so I went to the adjacent public restroom to wash my hands. I never expected it. A sudden force slammed me against the wall. Before I could even get up, a foot pressed down hard on my stomach. "Elara, you bitch. What's there to be so proud of?" "Don't… touch… me." The pressure of her foot increased. I tried to push it away, but her friends grabbed my hands, pulling them back. Bianca ground her heel into me, bit by bit. I choked back the pain, forcing out broken words. "Assault…? You'll all go to prison for this." Finally, one of them got scared. "Bianca, that's enough. Let's go." "What are you afraid of? Her grandfather is dead. Her family is nothing now. If she hadn't been hiding in prison for three years, I would have taught her this lesson a long time ago." "But… she's still Mason Holt's wife. No one dares to cross him." "Mason Holt? Everyone knows he doesn't want her. If he actually cared, would he have just stood by and done nothing three years ago?" I could barely breathe. "I am… still Mrs. Holt. The Holt family… won't let an outsider bully me. You can try." "Let's go, Bianca." "Go where? Do you know who Mason Holt is with right now? My friend, Seraphina. He's never coming to save her." She didn't let up until something inside me tore. A searing, visceral rip. Bianca finally removed her foot. Clutching my agonized stomach, I fumbled in my bag for my phone to call for an ambulance. But Bianca, who had been about to leave, came back. She grabbed my arm. "You two, come back here." I knew what she wanted. I desperately tried to hide my wrist, but she ordered her friends to pull my arm free. The jade bangle was pushed aside, revealing the ugly, tangled scars beneath. "Heh, I heard you tried to slit your wrists in there. I didn't realize you cut so deep," she sneered. "Tsk, tsk. Something this beautiful needs to be shared with our circle." She took out her phone to record a video. I twisted and turned, but I couldn't escape the lens. "Haha, look everyone! This is the former first lady of the city! Look at her left wrist! So ugly, right? She did this in prison…" "Get away… get away from me…" My struggles were useless. When she finished recording, they stood up, dusting off their hands. She pulled open the door, one foot already outside. The heavy glass ashtray connected with the back of her head. A dark splash of crimson. Leaning against the doorframe, I smiled. At the same time, my body felt like a dam had burst. Blood surged up from my throat, and I crumpled to the floor. Through a darkening haze, I saw Mason turn, his face a mask of horror. Maybe it was a trick of the light, my senses fading one by one, but I thought I saw a pair of feet running towards me from a great distance. 15 I had a long dream. It was a world of endless white. I walked and walked, one foot sinking into a deep pit, the next plunging into a glacier that cut my skin. I traveled for miles but saw no one. Frozen and broken, I lay down in the snow. As the white flakes began to cover me, I whispered goodbye to the blue sky. But when the snow kissed my eyelids, a stubborn refusal took hold. I wasn't done. I crawled to my feet and kept moving forward. I would not die here. I would get out. I would not give up. 16 "She's awake! The patient in Room 1 is awake! Someone get in here!" I had barely opened my eyes when a cacophony of noise erupted around me. "Elara." A blurred figure rushed forward, blocking my view. "You're finally awake. Thank God." A large hand gripped mine tightly. I couldn't tell if it was my hand that was shaking, or his. My vision slowly cleared. My mind churned, and I recognized the man before me as Mason. I looked up into his eyes, saw the deep red of broken blood vessels that stained the whites. 17 A month later. Mason hadn't left the hospital. His assistant brought all his work to him here. He seemed like a different person. "Careful." He took a napkin and gently wiped a speck of soup from the corner of my mouth. I studied his eyes. The redness had faded slightly over the past few days. "Why are you looking at me like that? Is it the beard? Do I look terrible?" I shook my head and leaned back against the pillows. He closed the thermos, wiped down the small bedside table, and put it away. Growing up in the Holt family, he had likely never done such things before. "Aren't you going to the office?" He gestured to a stack of files. "They bring everything here. I can work from the hospital." "What about meetings? Your company has so many." "It's the slow season. Fewer meetings. My priority right now is taking care of you." I pressed my lips together and said nothing, turning over to sleep. Holt Industries was notoriously demanding. I had interned there once; the meetings were endless. For Mason, the CEO, it was even worse. I knew he had just moved his meetings to the evenings. On nights when I couldn't sleep, I could hear him in the adjacent room, leading a conference call through a screen. 18 Today, two police officers came to the hospital. I thought of the ashtray I had smashed against Bianca's head with all my might. My palm grew damp. "Mr. Holt, we're here to take a statement from Mrs. Holt regarding the incident at the East Tower restroom." The officer shook Mason's hand. Mason nodded, then gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't be nervous. Just tell them exactly what happened." I recounted the events truthfully. "Is that all?" "Mrs. Holt, is there anything you'd like to add?" "No." After I signed the statement, the officers left. I looked at Mason. "Is Bianca's injury healed?" "She's... not all there anymore. The doctors say her mental capacity is that of a child." I was shocked, my heart pounding. "I was so angry, I just wanted to fight back. Will I go to jail?" "Silly girl. You were defending yourself. Why would you go to jail? Don't worry, the police won't be pressing any charges." "Really?" He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Really." As he said, the police never came back. I never received a summons. Only then did I finally relax. 19 "Ma'am, what are you looking at?" Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, came in and followed my gaze out the window. She opened a thermos and set out the food. "Please eat, Ma'am. You need to get your strength back." I nodded. But when your body is at its weakest, high-protein foods are the last thing you want. I had no appetite. "Where's Mason?" "Are you missing the master? I'll call him for you." Mrs. Gable reached for her phone. I stopped her. "No, don't. But if you see him, could you please ask him to come by? I have something to say to him." A week ago, Mason had taken a phone call and hadn't been back to the hospital since. Mrs. Gable nodded. "Of course. Don't you worry, Ma'am. The master has just been working overtime at the company." I said nothing, just quietly spooned some broth. 20 I pushed myself up and stood before the full-length mirror. Mason came in. "Careful." He rushed to my side. "Why are you out of bed? The doctor said you still need to rest." "I'm much better." I pulled my arm from his grasp and stood as straight as I could before the mirror, holding the pose for a full minute. When I was done, I returned to the bed. "When you're fully recovered, we'll go to a private island for a month, get away from it all…" He was looking at me, waiting for my response. But I just stared out the window, unmoving. "Elara?" "Let's get a divorce."
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