Outside, the wind cut like a knife, but inside the room the heat was thick enough to choke.

On Damien Whitmore’s face, there wasn’t a trace of the usual cold distance he showed his wife, Luna Fairchild.

Right now, he had both hands locked around Vivian Sterling’s waist, moving with raw, desperate force.

“You’re not marrying anyone,” Damien muttered, sweat dripping off his jaw onto Vivian’s bare skin.

Vivian let out a soft, teasing laugh. “Then divorce Luna.”

Her words were answered by Damien driving into her even harder, making Vivian gasp and moan.

He had slipped back from the army in the dead of night, found the whole house asleep, and didn’t wake a soul. He’d climbed over the courtyard wall, noticed his sister‑in‑law’s door wasn’t locked, and pushed it open without a thought.

Their first time had been on the third night after his older brother’s funeral. The whole family was drowned in grief, but Damien had crept into Vivian’s room after midnight. No one ever knew.

That first secret touch had been so reckless, so forbidden, Damien almost lost his mind on the spot.

Dawn was just breaking now. Roosters crowed outside, and the villagers—always early to rise—were already getting ready for the fields.

Damien finally pulled away from Vivian, still unsatisfied, and gave her a slow, lingering touch. “Don’t lock the door tonight.”

Vivian didn’t have Luna’s figure, but the thrill of sneaking around with her hit Damien in ways he didn’t expect.

And it wasn’t just Damien who wasn’t done—Vivian clearly still wanted more.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their eyes catching, heating, forgetting the rest of the world.

Just when the two were tangled up again, the door suddenly flew open with a loud kick.

Damien jerked in shock, his whole body trembling as he whipped his head toward the doorway.

Standing there wasn’t just Luna—but the entire Whitmore family, and a crowd of villagers behind them.

“Ah!” Vivian screamed, scrambling for the blanket to hide her naked body.

But Luna moved faster. She snatched the blanket away and tossed it straight out the door.

Her whole body shook with fury as she pointed at the two of them.

“How could you do something this shameful?”

“Good grief, what a disgrace!” Mr. Whitmore had come over because the second daughter‑in‑law called him, thinking something serious had happened. He never expected it would be to catch Damien Whitmore and his own sister‑in‑law in the middle of something shameful.

He was so furious he nearly dropped the old family pipe in his hand, his beard trembling as he turned his head.

Alberta Whitmore shot Vivian Sterling a harsh glare.

How could she be this careless?

She had long known about the shady business between her second son and her eldest daughter‑in‑law, but family shame wasn’t something to spread around.

With the eldest gone, the eldest daughter‑in‑law was still young. If not for having a man to cling to, she would’ve left the kids behind and remarried already.

All in all, it was the second son who got the bargain.

She just didn’t expect they’d be caught by that simple‑minded workhorse, Luna Fairchild.

“Alright now, this is all a misunderstanding. Everyone just… go on home, will you? We’ve just started the household responsibility system, doesn’t anyone need to get back to the fields?” Alberta Whitmore tried to push back the villagers crowding closest to her.

But Luna Fairchild grabbed the stick leaning behind the door and started swinging it at Damien Whitmore and Vivian Sterling.

As she hit them, she shouted, “You filthy pair! How could you do this to your dead big brother? To me? To Mom and Dad? To the whole Whitmore family and our ancestors?”

The Luna who was usually soft as steamed bread suddenly snapped.

There was no way the villagers were leaving now.

Damien Whitmore, guilty as sin, didn’t dare fight back in front of everyone. He dodged while trying to explain. “Luna, listen to me— I came back at midnight and walked into the wrong room!”

“The wrong room?” Luna brought the stick down hard on Damien’s right knee. Pain drained the color from his face, and he dropped straight to the ground.

She struck his left knee next. “Your sister‑in‑law’s room is on the west side. Mine is on the east. And you think you ‘walked wrong’?”

“Why didn’t you ‘walk wrong’ into your parents’ room?”

“Or wander into the neighbors’ place?”

Vivian Sterling tried to grab her clothes, but just as her fingers touched the edge of her underwear, Luna smacked the back of her hand with the stick. Vivian let out a sharp scream.

Luna Fairchild didn’t even give Vivian Sterling a second to cover herself. She grabbed her by the arm and shoved her straight out the door.

Vivian was completely naked. A few old men were standing outside, their eyes glued to her, staring without the slightest shame.

She let out a small cry, covered her face, and bolted. Spotting Mr. Whitmore’s clothes hanging on the line, she didn’t think twice—just yanked a shirt down and pulled it over her head, not even checking if it fit.

The men burst out laughing.

Vivian’s face burned. She clutched the shirt tighter and ran off as fast as she could.

Inside the room, Damien Whitmore was getting hammered. Luna swung the stick with precision, hitting every joint she could reach. Damien couldn’t stand the pain and finally snapped, pointing at her while cursing.

"You’re someone not even your parents bothered with! If I hadn’t married you, who knows which old man your mother would’ve sold you to by now!"

"You eat my food, wear my clothes, use my money—without me, you think you’d be living this comfortably?"

"I already told you, I went into the wrong room and ended up with the wrong person! What else do you want from me?"

Luna didn’t wait for him to finish. She lifted the stick and whipped it across Damien’s face. The sting made his head ring, and he raised his hand, ready to hit back—until he met his mother Alberta Whitmore’s eyes. His hand froze in mid‑air.

"Whether you went into the wrong room or not—you know it, and so does your mother."

The moment Luna said that, everyone turned to look at Alberta. Her dodging gaze told the whole story without a single word.

Luna planted one hand on her hip and slammed the stick against the ground with a sharp thud.

"Divorce!"

Damien froze for a heartbeat… then scoffed.

Divorce?

She had the nerve to say it—but would she really dare to do it?

Luna, with that timid nature of hers? She’d never even dared step out of the village her whole life. If she weren’t such a pushover, he wouldn’t have dared fool around like this in the first place.

She was just throwing a tantrum. Making noise. Once it passed, everything would go back to how it was.

Besides, if they divorced, where would she go?

Back to that family of hers that sucked her dry? As if they’d take in a woman cast out by her husband.

Luna Fairchild kept her eyes locked on Damien Whitmore, the anger in them so sharp it felt like it might spill right out.

The villagers were stunned by how fierce she was, even more shocked by how bluntly she handled things. In their minds, same as Damien’s, once she divorced him, where could she possibly go?

She’d made the scene this ugly, even shouted out “divorce” in front of everyone. Was she really not afraid she’d boxed herself in?

Some folks felt sorry for her. Being a soldier’s wife wasn’t easy. Damien could be gone for months, sometimes a whole year without a word. She had to help raise Felix Whitmore’s kid, take care of the elders, run back and forth for every little thing. After all that, divorcing didn’t seem worth it.

Some people secretly laughed, saying she was foolish. Damien and Vivian Sterling had been messing around right under her nose, and judging from today, this wasn’t the first time. And she never noticed?

But no one knew—Luna had lived this all once before.

She had made it to fifty, worn down by a life full of exhaustion, lying on a hospital bed, and it was Vivian who pushed her right over the edge.

Vivian stood beside that bed, her voice cutting deeper with every word.

“Luna, don’t you ever wonder? You’ve been to so many hospitals, all saying you’re perfectly fine, yet you never got pregnant.”

“That’s because Damien got himself snipped long ago—for me. He didn’t want any child coming from you. You could’ve traveled the whole country, tried every folk remedy you could find—you still wouldn’t have gotten pregnant.”

“Every time he came home on leave, he said he was tired and wouldn’t touch you. He was just waiting for you to fall asleep so he could sneak over to me.”

“And most of the allowance he got each month? He sent it to me.”

“Your mother-in-law knew about us too. Every time we were together, she’d help cover for us, find an excuse to send you out…”