Sirens from the ambulance echoed through the most affluent villa district downtown—

A group of paramedics rushed a man onto the stretcher. He was completely naked, blood pouring from his lower half. A woman in her mid-forties chased after him, wailing as she climbed into the back of the ambulance.

The whole thing lasted barely two minutes before the vehicle's blaring faded into the distance.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom on the second floor, blood trails marked a messy path. The bed was a total disaster. In the corner of the room, a disheveled, naked woman cowered, eyes wide with fear as she looked at Fiona Sinclair, who stood beside the bed holding a pair of bloodied scissors, her stare cold and vacant.

"Fiona, d-don’t do anything stupid! The police… they’ll be here any minute!"

Fiona’s eyes were void of emotion. It wasn’t just emptiness—it was despair.

Ten minutes ago, her husband, her husband of just one year, had been tangled up with that woman in their bed.

She'd grown up well-mannered, properly educated—but what woman could stomach that kind of betrayal?

The second she cut it off, it was like all the tension in her body snapped loose—strangely liberating.

Chloe Ross was shaking like a leaf. That look on Fiona’s face when she’d burst into the room just now? She wasn’t bluffing—cutting Adrian’s manhood wasn’t even the worst she could’ve done. Murder wouldn’t have been off the table.

Chloe bit her lip, voice trembling. "Fiona, to be honest, it was Adrian who wanted to kick you out with nothing. I... I didn’t mean to get involved like this. Please, just let me go, okay?"

Fiona’s eyes flickered for the first time, her face twitching with emotion.

"He didn’t love me," she muttered, "then why the hell did he marry me?"

Chloe hesitated, then said softly, “Adrian and I were already seeing each other when he got with you. He just married you for the Sinclair assets.”

He’d promised her—after divorcing Fiona and throwing her out, he’d make Chloe his wife.

Fiona felt her nose sting, vision blurring with tears.

For a whole year, she thought she’d run out of tears.

Then, out of nowhere, she let out a bitter, broken laugh. The scissors clattered to the floor as she turned and walked out of the room that now reeked of betrayal.

As soon as Fiona left, Chloe scrambled to grab her dress from the floor. Wearing nothing underneath, she ran out of the villa like her life depended on it.

Not long after, a police cruiser pulled up.

A week later, Fiona was sentenced—three years for intentional injury.

Not once did her father visit during her time in jail. Maybe he was just done with her, disappointed beyond repair.

Honestly? She was fine with that.

That same day she received the final verdict, the divorce papers were handed to her.

Word around said Adrian had his manhood reattached. Technically usable, but its “performance” might never be the same.

Fiona gave a faint smile—it was just a piece of meat now, more for decor than function.

Three years for a scumbag’s lifetime of misery?

She figured it was a bargain.

A month later, a prison guard informed her of a visitor.

It was a lawyer from Sinclair Pharmaceuticals. He looked at her through the glass, clearly taken aback by how much weight she’d lost. He suddenly regretted coming.

"Mr. Collins, did my father send you?" Fiona asked quietly.

The lawyer hesitated, eyes avoiding hers before he finally answered,

"Miss Sinclair… I came here to deliver some news. Your father, Chairman Sinclair, has passed away.”

In an instant, it felt like all warmth drained from her body.

She blinked, trembling. Cold spread from her bones to her skin.

"Mr. Collins... do you know what you're saying?"

Her voice shook, heavy with fear, clearly unable to accept the reality just dropped on her.