My Cold-Hearted Husband Chases Me Again

The two exchanged flirtatious glances, their sweetness resembling a couple in the throes of a passionate romance. On the other hand, Gianna stood between them, the biggest, brightest third wheel. At their wedding two years ago, Roxan had gotten drunk, pushed away anyone trying to help her, and staggered toward Vince with a glass of wine. Her eyes were red, her voice hoarse as she said, "Vince, I wish you and Gianna a lifetime of happiness and many children." As soon as she finished, crystal-like tears slid down her cheeks, and she collapsed on the spot. On instinct, Vince caught her and scooped her into his arms. The wedding hall fell into utter silence. Standing under the spotlight, Gianna felt every gaze pierce her like a slap across the face. Vince glanced back at her but offered no explanation. Instead, he turned to his mother and said coldly, "This wedding is what you wanted. But when it comes to my private life, I expect you to stay out of it. "Roxan is my friend. I’m taking her home now." With that, he carried Roxan out of the venue, leaving Gianna and his mother to deal with the chaos. Michelle was furious. By the time Gianna finished seeing off the guests and pacifying the reporters, she returned home utterly exhausted. What greeted her, however, was the sight of Vince bringing Roxan back to their marital home. The new apartment, once cheerfully decorated for their wedding, had been turned upside down by the drunken Roxan. Even the house slippers meant for the lady of the house were now on Roxan’s feet. And there Gianna stood, at the entryway, like an outsider. "What are you standing there for? Get over here and help! Or do you expect me to change Roxan’s clothes myself?" Vince barked. Gianna recalled her mother’s dying words and swallowed her grievances. She stepped forward to help, all the while knowing Roxan was only pretending to be drunk. Yet Vince was completely oblivious. That night, their wedding night, turned into a farcical drama involving three people. Back in the present, Gianna found today’s replay of events utterly absurd. She looked past Roxan’s face to Vince, her expression cold and indifferent. "You’re right. It’s just a pair of slippers. I don’t need them." Nor did she need Vince anymore. Her tone was distant, a stark contrast to the soft and gentle demeanor she once had. Vince frowned, his gaze turning cold. "You’ve been gone all day, and now you come back with an attitude? Gianna, wipe that fake sickly makeup off your face. I’m not buying this pity act." Gianna chuckled dryly and shifted her gaze to Roxan. She didn’t speak, but the sarcasm in her expression was unmistakable. Roxan, understanding the unspoken jab, feigned ignorance and played innocent. "Gianna, don’t take it to heart. Vince was just joking. He didn’t mean anything by it." Turning to Vince, she added with a touch of reproach, "Vince, you shouldn’t always speak to Gianna like that. After all, you’re married." Her voice grew soft and pitiful, tears welling in her eyes. "If my presence is disrupting your life, I won’t come over anymore." Seeing her distress, Vince immediately pulled her into his arms. "This has nothing to do with you. If anyone disrupted my life, it was her taking away my freedom to choose who I marry." "Fine. I’ll apply for a divorce in a few days and give you your freedom. Satisfied?" Gianna’s tone was cold and detached. She was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue. All she wanted now was a good night’s sleep. Without sparing the two another glance, she slipped into her usual slippers and walked to the guest bedroom she now called her own. Vince was stunned, thinking he must have misheard her. When he called out to her, the door had already closed. Lying on the bed, Gianna’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She couldn’t close them, no matter how hard she tried. Memories from the past flooded her mind, making her already fragile body feel even more broken.

Gianna and Vince had known each other since childhood, growing up together, attending the same university, and eventually being driven apart by Roxan’s interference. Their relationship soured into mutual resentment, and their forced marriage was now a bitter entanglement. She had endured enough and no longer wished to suffer any longer. Gianna was a light sleeper. When she heard knocking on her door, she chose to ignore it, pretending not to hear. The doorknob rattled with clumsy and heavy movements, irritating her. She opened her eyes to see Roxan entering with a tray, carrying a cup of warm milk. Roxan's tone was gentle. "Gianna, you must not have had dinner yet. Have some warm milk before going to sleep." Gianna turned her gaze away, her voice icy. "Take it away. I don’t need it." "Gianna, I know you’re upset with me, but please don’t take it out on your health," Roxan said earnestly, her tone laced with a hint of tears. "Is playing dumb fun for you?" Gianna, tired of Roxan’s fake innocence, sat up and coldly glared at her. "Even kindergarteners know drinking milk on an empty stomach causes diarrhea. You, a grown adult in your twenties, don’t know such basic common sense?" Despite being exposed, Roxan still clung to her pretense. "I didn’t know that. Growing up, my family struggled, and milk was a luxury we only had during the New Year. It’s normal for me not to know." After a few sentences, her eyes brimmed with tears again. "Gianna, I know you’ve always minded how close Vince and I are. But we’re just friends—he dotes on me like a little sister..." "You know the truth better than anyone," Gianna interrupted sharply. "Since you’ve already crossed the line from friends to something more, don’t pretend to be innocent or pitiful. I’m not buying it." Her blunt words tore away the last shred of pretense between them. Roxan froze for a moment, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, I admit you’ve known Vince ten years longer than I have. But the one he loves is me, and you’ve felt it too. Vince himself said that everything you have now—a marriage certificate and a place in his life—is only because your mother traded her life for it. Without her, you’re nothing." Her words were light, but each one cut deep into Gianna’s heart. Three years ago, after Vince's father, Antonio, suddenly passed away, TerraLink Group’s stock plummeted, and enemies within the boardroom sought to eliminate any remaining family influence. Assassins waited outside the Perkins family villa, targeting Vince. On that fateful day, Gianna’s mother happened to be with him and took the fatal blow meant for him. That day, Gianna lost her only family. To compensate for this, Michelle revived the childhood engagement between Gianna and Vince, forcing the two into marriage. The original intent was to have Vince care for her. But Vince believed Gianna had used her mother’s sacrifice to break him and Roxan apart. For the next three years, he harbored resentment, treated her coldly, and caused her pain. Perhaps she should have realized sooner and left before it came to this. The sharp sound of glass shattering against tiled floors jolted her from her thoughts. Gianna turned to see the broken shards scattered across the floor, with Roxan slumping on the floor, her hands bleeding. "Ah… it hurts so much," Roxan whimpered. The scene was perfectly timed for Vince, who rushed in after hearing the commotion. He immediately helped Roxan up, his expression furious as he turned to Gianna. "Roxan was kind enough to bring you some milk, and you made her get hurt?!" Gianna didn’t defend herself. She merely stared back coldly. There was no point in explaining herself. Vince’s bias had already condemned her. Why waste her breath? "Don’t blame her, Vince," Roxan interrupted, her voice trembling as she clutched her injured hands. "I tripped over the chair leg myself. It has nothing to do with Gianna. Please don’t be angry with her."

Roxan tried to withdraw her hand, but Vince firmly held it in his grasp. “Don’t move,” he commanded, carefully examining her injured hands. His face darkened upon seeing how deeply the glass shards were embedded. “There’s a first-aid kit in the living room. I’ll treat the wounds for now, but we’ll need to go to the hospital. Your body still hasn’t fully recovered since your bout with COVID; we can’t risk a bacterial infection.” Tears welled up in Roxan’s eyes as she nodded obediently, like a frightened rabbit, allowing him to carry her out. The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud. The room returned to silence, but Gianna’s pain surged with greater intensity after hearing Vince’s final words. She clutched her lower abdomen with trembling fingers, barely able to contain her anguish. The obstetrician had explained that her baby’s miscarriage was primarily caused by the immune imbalance brought on by her high fever. Many similar cases had occurred in recent years due to the pandemic. Despite her cautiousness about her diet and surroundings, she had still been infected. Now, she understood the source of that infection. Half a month ago, Roxan had hosted Vince’s birthday dinner, preparing a spread of spicy dishes. Gianna, then in the throes of pregnancy nausea, stuck to plain rice. “Gianna, why aren’t you eating? These dishes are really good,” Roxan had said, unusually enthusiastic, even placing a piece of spicy chicken in Gianna’s bowl. Gianna didn’t want to eat it and was about to move it aside when Vince’s face darkened. “It’s just one bite. You used to love spicy food. What now, have your tastes changed?” She wanted to tell him about her pregnancy but froze under his cold, indifferent gaze. She picked up the piece of chicken, took a bite, then spat it out. “Mediocre,” she said flatly before resuming her silent meal. Roxan didn’t seem to mind. She and Vince chatted and laughed throughout dinner, as though Gianna were invisible. During the meal, Roxan coughed several times, claiming her throat felt itchy and that she was “fighting poison with poison.” At the time, Gianna thought it was due to the spiciness of the food. In hindsight, it was likely the early stages of her illness. Whether Roxan’s actions were deliberate or accidental, only she knew. The warmth of postpartum bleeding now trickled down—a cruel farewell from her baby. Gianna’s heart felt as though it were being shredded. Her child could have been born healthy, but fate had other plans. Both she and Vince were to blame. They didn’t deserve to be parents, and that was why their child chose to leave. That night, Gianna drifted into a restless, tearful sleep. In her dreams, she saw her mother. Her mother stood in a beautiful estate, holding a tiny infant in her arms. She gently wiped away Gianna’s tears and said softly, “What happened with the baby was destiny. Some bonds can’t be forced. Perhaps he left early to save you from further suffering.” “Gia, starting tomorrow, live for yourself.” With those words, her mother, Evelyn, holding the baby, faded into the light and disappeared. Gianna woke with a start in the middle of the night, her pillow soaked with tears. Yet her mind was clearer than it had been in a long time. Life was about moving forward, not looking back. She reached into her nightstand drawer and retrieved her diary, flipping through its pages. Inside were records of her life with Vince—how they met, fell in love, and the gradual accumulation of disappointment and heartbreak. Each entry felt like a stab to the heart, a torment akin to living in purgatory. She threw the diary into the bottom drawer, slamming it shut as though that would bury the pain along with it. At six o’clock the next morning, she rose from bed. Her spirits felt steadier, and the ache in her lower abdomen had subsided to a manageable level. She began methodically packing her belongings. Thankfully, Vince had refused to take wedding photos with her when they married. Otherwise, she’d have more to sort through. After packing her everyday clothes, she hesitated when she turned to the back of her closet. There sat over a dozen luxury handbags, gifts from Michelle. All high-end designer pieces, their opulence didn’t match Gianna’s understated style, so she had barely used them.

Faced with so many bags, Gianna didn’t want to take them, nor did she want to leave them behind as a reminder of her presence. After some thought, she decided to sell them, convert them into cash, and use the money to purchase a parting gift for Michelle—a token of gratitude to conclude their so-called “mother-daughter” relationship over the years. As she opened her phone to contact a friend about selling the bags, a message from Roxan popped up. [Gianna, are you feeling better? I was wrong yesterday and shouldn’t have said those things. Will you forgive me?] Gianna let out a cold laugh, ignoring the message. A few minutes later, Roxan sent another one, this time with a photo. It was of a man’s back, tall and straight, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was wearing a white T-shirt paired with black tailored slacks, the apron tied around his waist blending seamlessly with his refined appearance. He stood in the kitchen, meticulously preparing food. Beneath the photo was a caption. [Vince’s porridge is delicious. I asked him to bring you some—be sure to drink it while it’s hot!] It was followed by a playful bunny emoji. Gianna found herself at a loss for words to describe Roxan. The only thing she could do was marvel at her sheer audacity and composure. She replied curtly. [If you like it so much, keep it for the New Year.] Without waiting for a response, Gianna blocked and deleted all contact information for both Roxan and Vince. The relief was instantaneous. Her mood lifted, and her stomach growled in hunger—especially after she hadn’t eaten much the previous night. She headed to the kitchen and made herself a bowl of egg noodles. As she was eating, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. Vince walked in, and their eyes met across the living room. He was holding a stainless steel thermos and smirked. “So it really was an act. Only Roxan, that naïve girl, would believe you. She spent all night convincing me to make peace with you, despite you being the one who hurt her.” Gianna didn’t reply, lowering her gaze and continuing to eat her noodles as though he didn’t exist. Irritated by her indifference, Vince’s expression darkened. He changed his shoes and walked over to the dining table, placing the thermos down with a loud clank. “What’s so great about this?” he sneered, glancing disdainfully at her bowl. “Here, eat the seafood porridge I made. At least that way you won’t have any excuse to run to my mother, complaining about how I treat you.” Gianna didn’t even lift her gaze as she replied, “Take it or throw it away—I’m not eating it.” Vince’s brows furrowed. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? Where did the kind, gentle girl who used to smile at everyone go? Gianna, the person you are now feels like a stranger.” The faint trace of care in his words made Gianna chuckle coldly. “Used to?” she repeated, putting down her spoon and standing up. Her eyes met his, and the warmth that once resided there was gone. Her gaze was as cold and lifeless as water at the bottom of a frozen pond. “That Gianna is dead,” she intoned coldly. She had died the moment her baby left her body, the moment her love and hope for him were crushed under the weight of countless disappointments. Her words stunned Vince. His heart raced, his breath hitched, as if an icy hand was squeezing the life out of him. It was a feeling he had never experienced before—a deep unease that the woman before him might vanish from his world without a trace. But that was impossible! From childhood until now, Gianna had been his shadow, following him everywhere. Everyone could see her unwavering love for him. How could she possibly let it all go? Before he could respond, Gianna was already clearing the table, her movements deliberate and methodical as she carried her dishes into the kitchen. The only sounds in the apartment were the clinking of porcelain and the rush of water from the faucet. Even her breathing seemed muted. Vince stood there, staring at her. For the first time, he realized how much she had changed. She used to have a healthy glow, her cheeks soft with a hint of baby fat. Her figure had been full of life, well-proportioned and vibrant. After her mother’s death, she had grown thinner, her smiles becoming rare. But now, her transformation was startling. Her face was pallid and lifeless, her cheekbones and collarbones jutting out sharply. Her shoulder blades protruded like fragile wings, and her once-vibrant presence had diminished to nothing more than a shadow.

Gianna had become so unfamiliar to him that he almost didn’t recognize her. “You...” Vince couldn’t help but speak up. Gianna ignored him, calmly placing the washed dishes back in the cabinet. She removed her apron and brushed past him. His gaze drifted downward, and his brows furrowed. Raising his voice, he called out, “Gianna, wait.” She stopped but didn’t bother turning around. “What is it now?” His voice carried a hint of awkwardness. “You... there’s a stain on the back of your pants. Looks like quite a lot. Is this a hormonal imbalance or something?” Gianna took a deep breath, and she was just about to respond when Vince’s phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he didn’t hesitate to answer, his tone softening immediately. “Rox, what’s wrong?” Through the receiver came a girl’s sobbing voice, broken by hiccups. “Vince, I twisted my ankle while trying to change the light fixture. It’s so swollen and hurts so much. Can you come over? I’m scared...” “Don’t move. I’ll be right there!” Vince anxiously replied. Gianna didn’t care about their affairs. She turned and headed to her bedroom to change her pants. “Gianna,” Vince called after her. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital on the way? That bleeding looks like a lot.” His attempt at concern felt shallow and insincere, like a casual afterthought. She paused at the door and smirked faintly. “No need. Have you ever heard of a woman dying from her period? You’d better hurry to Roxan’s house. It’s dangerous for a girl to be home alone.” Hearing her mention Roxan, Vince’s unease grew stronger. But Roxan’s sobbing on the phone became even more pitiful. Without time to think further, he said to Gianna, “Alright then, I’ll go. Take care of yourself and drink more water if you’re not feeling well.” Gianna didn’t respond. She simply closed the door. For the next two days, Vince didn’t return. It wasn’t hard to guess why—Roxan must have made him stay. Not that it mattered to Gianna; his absence only made things more convenient for her. The bags Michelle had gifted her had already been sold as nine-tenths new, bringing in over 1.2 million dollars. Having spent so many years with the Perkins family, Gianna knew that Michelle had always wanted to recover the couple’s heirloom pocket watch—a memento from her youth with Vince's late father. However, the demands of running the company after her husband’s death had left no time to track it down. Years ago, Gianna had seen a photograph of the watch and taken a picture of it herself. She had quietly asked a friend to help locate it. Last month, her friend informed her that it had finally been found. If not for the incident with the baby, she would have already brought it back. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late now. Early the next morning, the package containing the pocket watch arrived. Though it bore some minor scratches, the photograph of Perkins family inside remained intact. That alone made it worthwhile. Gianna was about to call Michelle to share the good news when her phone rang. “Gia, can you come to the old house?” Michelle’s voice was tinged with frustration. “That Roxan has stirred up trouble again.” From their conversation, Gianna quickly understood the gist of what had happened. It was almost laughable. Roxan’s leech-like parents had shown up outside the TerraLink Group headquarters, causing a scene and demanding some “pocket money” from their son-in-law, the general manager. Everyone knew that Vince’s wife was Gianna. Her father had passed away in an accident years ago, and her mother had died, saving the former TerraLink Group general manager. Now, two random people were claiming to be his “in-laws,” causing a public spectacle. What even more outrageous was Roxan’s mother, who, after crying and making a scene, went as far as to hoist a banner proclaiming that Roxan was Vince’s “second wife.” She essentially admitted that her daughter was a mistress, destroying another woman’s marriage. The news exploded online. Media outlets rushed to report the scandal. Within half a day, the TerraLink Group building was swarmed by onlookers and reporters, leaving no room to breathe.

The scandal caused TerraLink Group’s stock prices to plummet, leading the board members to grow restless. The old foxes in the boardroom began pressuring Michelle to remove Vince from his position as general manager. Naturally, Michelle refused. Once the Perkins family relinquished control, the company would be stripped bare and divided up by others. When Gianna arrived at the Perkins family’s old residence, Vince was kneeling in front of his father’s portrait. His expression was cold, but his voice was steady as he said, word by word, “Roxan is not a mistress.” Michelle trembled with rage, her voice shaking as she rebuked him, “A woman who shamelessly climbs into another’s bed for status—if that’s not a mistress, then what is? Vince, have you forgotten that Gianna is your legitimate wife? With the Chandler family creating such an ugly mess, how do you expect her to face the world?” Vince fell silent for a moment before replying coolly, “Gianna and I have been married for three years, but I’ve never touched her. Does that even count as a marriage?” His words left Michelle momentarily stunned, but at the doorway, Gianna laughed aloud. It was true: for three years, they had slept in separate rooms, never crossing that line. But there was one exception, an accident three months ago. That night, Gianna had been returning from a school reunion. Passing a bar, she caught sight of Roxan supporting a clearly drunk Vince. The two of them stumbled toward a luxury car parked by the curb. Despite everything she had endured over the past two years, the sight still stirred a bitter ache in Gianna’s heart. Her feet felt like they were weighed down with lead, and she couldn’t move a step. Just as Roxan was about to open the car door, a rough-looking young man grabbed her arm. A heated argument broke out between the two. Gianna couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever the man said next made Roxan’s expression falter. Left with no choice, she pushed Vince into the back seat and followed the man away. Gianna stood frozen on the spot for over half an hour, but Roxan didn’t return. Eventually, a traffic officer approached to issue a parking ticket. On impulse, Gianna retrieved the car keys from Vince’s pocket, started the car, and drove him home. She barely managed to drag him to the bed before he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. His breath was hot and unsteady, his cheeks flushed unnaturally red, and the way he looked at her was hazy and unfocused. A sense of danger surged through Gianna. He wouldn’t... Her fears were confirmed. Vince began pawing at her, tearing at her clothes, his fiery kisses landing everywhere. She was scared and tried to struggle, but the disparity in strength between a man and a woman was too great. Unable to break free, she bit down hard on his shoulder. The sharp pain made him flinch, and he let out a low groan. Gianna thought the pain might snap him out of it, but instead, he held her even tighter. His breath, hot and heavy against her ear, carried a seductive murmur, “Anna, be good. Don’t fight.” Gianna froze. Anna. It was the nickname he had given her when they were children. He had called her that countless times, but ever since university, he had grown distant and cold toward her. After meeting Roxan, he even started picking fights and giving her the silent treatment. He hadn’t called her that name in years. Her brief moment of distraction gave him the chance to overpower her completely. What followed was a night of madness. The next morning, to avoid any awkwardness, Gianna left early. Vince, however, never mentioned that night. Instead, he became even more attentive to Roxan, likely thinking he had mistaken Gianna for someone else in his drunken state. The last flicker of hope in Gianna’s heart was snuffed out. But fate loves to play cruel tricks. That one night left her pregnant—a fleeting moment of joy that ended in heartbreak when she lost the baby. Her love had finally run dry. “I’m not the only one tired of this sham marriage,” Gianna said with a faint smile, her tone calm and emotionless. “Vince, I’ve already filed for a divorce online. Please cooperate and sign it.”

Gianna's voice was soft yet resolute, causing both people in the room to freeze in shock. Vince’s body shuddered slightly, and his gaze toward her was filled with malicious mockery. "That act you put on last time was pretty convincing. I almost believed you. Are you trying to use the same trick today?" Michelle shot him a glare and then, feeling sorry for Gianna, stepped forward to embrace her gently. "Gia, it's my fault. I forced you to marry Vince all those years ago and couldn't get rid of that woman from the Chandler family..." She shot another angry glance at Vince. "I’m giving you one day. End all ties with that woman, or don’t come back to this house!" As though he had seen through their actions, Vince straightened his back, his eyes full of disappointment as he looked at Gianna. "The only people who know Roxan’s family background and her parents' contact details, apart from her and me, are you. Gianna, can you guarantee you didn’t orchestrate this mess?" Gianna let out a light laugh. Back in college, Roxan had framed her countless times, and Vince never believed her. Even if she swore in her life, she was always treated like a clown in his eyes. Trust, once broken, was thinner than paper. She had stopped defending herself after that, but today, she refused to stay silent. "Since all three of us could have done it, why is it that you’re certain it’s me? You have no evidence. What are you basing these accusations on?" Vince narrowed his eyes, trying to detect even the slightest trace of guilt in her, but he found none. "You’re talking nonsense. It can’t be Rox. She..." Michelle, unable to listen any longer, interrupted his words. "Enough! It’s obvious that you’re so captivated by that woman from the Chandler family that you’re doubting Gia. Have you forgotten Evelyn's kindness to you?" Mentioning "kindness" made Vince react like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. His eyes darkened, and his voice turned as cold as ice. "Yes, I owe Aunt Evelyn a debt. But who exactly I owe it to, and what it was for, you know best." Michelle, struggling to control her emotions, released Gianna and stepped forward to slap him across the face with all her strength. "Enough! You have no right to speak of her!" The slap hit Vince’s left cheek with a loud crack, causing it to swell immediately. But he didn’t utter a word. He just stood up and walked out of the room. Michelle, furious and distressed, sat down and took a long time to recover. She grasped Gianna’s hand, apologizing for her son’s behavior and explaining why Vince had always been antagonistic toward them since college. It turned out that Evelyn had once been Antonio’s first love. They had been in love during college, but due to family reasons, they had separated. Years later, Evelyn and Michelle had both given birth at the same hospital. Due to a nurse’s mistake, their babies had been swapped, and the mix-up lasted for three years. It was only because little Gianna fell ill and the blood types didn’t match that they discovered the error. After the children were swapped back, Evelyn couldn’t bear to part with Vince. After her husband passed away, she decided to settle with Gianna in New York, and she and Antonio put their past behind them. Since then, Evelyn and Michelle had grown closer. For a time, both families lived harmoniously. But during the summer of their senior year in high school, Vince accidentally found out about his father’s past with Evelyn. He believed she was just a mistress his father had brought back, and he began to target Evelyn. As a result, his relationship with Gianna also grew distant. Then came the assassination attempt where Evelyn saved Vince’s life, but he turned the baseless hatred onto Gianna. He believed she had used her mother’s death to manipulate him, ruining his freedom and marriage. This misunderstanding eventually led to the consequences they were facing today.

"I've talked to Vince about this more than once, but every time he hears about it, he starts avoiding the topic. He even suspects that you might be complaining to me and intentionally targeting you. After several attempts, I was afraid that it would backfire, so I stopped talking about it, thinking that one day he would come to his senses..." At this point, Michelle sighed and looked at Gianna. "Gia, have you really made up your mind about divorcing Vince?" Gianna nodded. She poured out all the grievances she had endured over the years, both big and small. When she finished speaking, she felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her body. Just as she had let go of her love for Vince. When she stopped caring, there was no more burden. Upon hearing about her miscarriage, Michelle’s expression softened with deep sorrow. She couldn’t help but pull Gianna into a tight hug, gently caressing her pale cheek. "I'm so sorry, my dear. It’s because of us that you’ve suffered so much." Gianna lowered her gaze. Her mother had told her about the child swap incident, but never about her past with Antonio. She had never understood why Vince suddenly started to despise her, or why he constantly hurt her for Roxan’s sake. Now that she understood the cause and effect, she realized: everything was fated, and very little was within one’s control. She believed in fate; some things were destined to happen, and there was no escaping them. Vince might probably regret his actions, but she had no energy to wait for him to grow up and repent. Now, all she felt for Vince was a deep physical aversion. Before leaving the old house, Gianna placed the pocket watch into Michelle’s hand and sincerely thanked her. "Thank you, Auntie." Michelle gripped her hand tightly but couldn’t bring herself to ask her to stay. When Gianna returned home, Vince was, as expected, not there. That was fine. She had no energy to argue with him. In the following days, Gianna continued packing her belongings, removing all traces of her life in this house. Occasionally, she would catch the latest news on the TV, which still reported on the situation with TerraLink Group. Vince was a man of means. Within just a few days, he managed to silence the board members. Roxan’s parents had apparently been paid off and, before surrendering themselves to the authorities, they made a public statement clarifying that they had no relationship with Roxan. They claimed that their previous actions were motivated by someone else’s money, which they used to tarnish TerraLink Group’s reputation. As for who that person was, they didn’t say, and the police didn’t release any details. It was left to the public to speculate. TerraLink Group’s PR team worked overtime, attempting to salvage the company’s image by spreading posts about business conspiracies and engaging in online battles. They bought traffic and hired trolls to manipulate the opinions of the uninformed masses. They worked tirelessly to clear the dirt off both TerraLink Group and Roxan. It seemed Vince had spent quite a lot of money for Roxan. But none of this concerned Gianna. After handling some personal affairs, she went to the industry and commerce bureau to cancel her sole proprietorship business of a children’s painting store. Just as she was leaving the bureau, she was called by the vet hospital. "Hello, Miss Cole, is it convenient for you to come by now? Ginger's condition is not looking good." Gianna’s heart skipped a beat, and the panic of potentially losing something once again surged through her. Without a second thought, she rushed to the pet hospital. When she arrived, out of breath, Ginger, her orange tabby cat, was lying on the examination table, hooked up to an IV. Its breathing was weak, and it appeared to be in a semi-conscious state. Ginger seemed to sense Gianna’s presence and made a feeble attempt to lift its head to look at her. Even this small action was too much for it to handle. Gianna walked up slowly and gently pressed on its paw, trying to hold back the tears in her throat. "Don’t be afraid, Ginger. I’m here. I’ll stay with you." Outside the emergency room, the doctor looked serious and said, "Ginger is 18 years old, which is about 90 in human years. For an orange tabby, that’s quite old. Unfortunately, its organs are failing, and it could go at any time. Miss Cole, you need to prepare yourself."

Gianna crossed her arms tightly, her nails digging deeply into her flesh, but it still couldn’t diminish the ache in her heart. Ginger, the stray cat, was something she and Vince had found together when they were in elementary school. From the weak, timid kitten it once was, they had raised it into a healthy, lively, and affectionate cat, putting in so much effort along the way. But because Michelle was afraid of cats, they had to secretly keep it in the southwest corner of the garden. Ginger was an affectionate and clingy orange tabby. Vince had asked Gianna to give it a nice name. She thought long and hard, but nothing she suggested seemed to satisfy him. Finally, he clasped his hands together, decisively declaring, “Let’s call it Ginger. It’s part of both of us.” Hearing his childish but domineering tone, Gianna's heart skipped a beat for the first time. Later, they got married. But Vince, due to Roxan’s allergy to cat fur, wanted to send Ginger away despite the cat being sixteen years old. Wasn’t that the same as abandoning it? Gianna couldn’t accept this, so she immediately insisted on moving out with Ginger. Vince didn’t say much, and just left. But before he left, that cold, indifferent look in his eyes chilled her heart. That night, Gianna hugged Ginger, holding back her tears as she comforted it. “Ginger, don’t worry. He doesn’t want you, but I do. I won’t abandon you.” Ginger nuzzled her cheek, meowing softly twice. Perhaps sensing the disdain from its owner, that night it relapsed, unable to eat and struggling to breathe, tears around its eyes. Gianna panicked. She rushed it to the pet hospital for treatment. Ginger’s condition was much worse than she had imagined. It had been sick since it was twelve, having undergone two surgeries, and had barely stabilized for the past six months. This time, the doctor said it would need long-term hospitalization to manage its condition—a form of treatment that only delayed its life. The doctor even suggested giving up, but Gianna couldn’t bring herself to. To her, Ginger was not just a pet, but a family. Over the past two years, she had regularly visited the hospital to check on Ginger. On the good days, she would take it out for walks, watching the sunset together as they drifted off to sleep. But after the miscarriage and the procedures, she hadn’t been able to visit for a long time. She hadn’t expected that Ginger might leave her now... After the conversation, Gianna thought for a few minutes, then decided to take Vince off her blacklist and send him a message. She only hoped he would come to see Ginger one last time, as a way of closing the chapter on their past. She waited for a long time, but he didn’t respond. Just as she was about to give up, the message came through. [Gianna, the average lifespan of an orange cat is around fifteen years, and Ginger has lived its full life. It also has many underlying health issues. Even if it stays alive, it’s only going to suffer. You should just let it go. People are like this, and so are cats. Isn’t it exhausting, clinging on like this?] It was Roxan’s tone. The final line carried a double meaning. She was reminding Gianna to take the hint and leave Vince, that clinging to him would lead to nothing.