Once a Doormat, Now Untouchable

By the time Sydney left the Sterling estate, her limp had worsened. For three years, every time Caleb failed to show up for her, she ended up punished like this. She no longer felt surprised.

What Caleb did not realize was that each time he "proved his devotion" to the woman he loved, he pushed Sydney one step closer to ruin. The Sterling family had no use for a weak woman who could not keep her husband's heart.

Jason sighed. "You could have lied, you know? Made up something harsher. Madam Sterling wouldn't have beaten you this badly."

"Jason, Grandma raised me. I could lie to anyone but never to her," Sydney said. Her clean, pale face showed no trace of resentment.

Jason sighed again, but this time his eyes showed genuine warmth as he looked at her bruised, red palms. "Don't wait too long. Get to a hospital quickly."

"Okay." She nodded without another word.

Jack had already left.

Every step sent sharp waves of pain through Sydney's body.

Since she was little, she suspected Eloise was the reincarnation of a cruel villain from some historical drama.

Dorothy Vettera, the matriarch of the Hampton family, had merely ordered Penelope to kneel in the courtyard. Eloise, the Sterling family's matriarch, had made the maids take Sydney to kneel on a path filled with jagged stones.

At first, the snow made it bearable. Yes, it was cold, but at least it did not hurt. Once the snow melted, only sharp rocks remained. By the time her whole body froze, the maids appeared with canes to whip her palms.

That part truly hurt.

The Sterling estate sat high in the scenic, serene mountains. Sydney had struggled to bribe a ride-share driver to come. Because it was snowing late at night, the driver refused to go beyond the hill's base.

Each step downhill brought pure agony. Despite the winter chill, her back drenched in sweat from pain.

Far ahead, a long black Bentley crawled along the icy road.

The driver squinted. "Sir, that looks like Ms. Wilson."

In the backseat, a man lounged with legs crossed. His face lay mostly in shadow, sharp and cold, radiating power. He did not even look up as he hummed. His expression was unreadable.

Elliot Tierney, the assistant in front, could not hold back. "Sir, shouldn't we help her?"

"You want to?" His low, magnetic voice was quiet but laced with frost.

Elliot fell silent.

After a long pause, the man finally looked out through the windshield, narrowing his eyes at the frail figure staggering in the snow. "Find out what Caleb was doing tonight."

"We already checked. Most likely enjoying a romantic night with Penelope." Elliot added quickly, "Ms. Wilson has probably been kneeling in the snow for hours. She's reaching her limit."

Just as he finished, the figure ahead collapsed.

"I told you that—"

The car door slammed open. The man's face stayed stone-cold as he swept the unconscious woman into his arms, wrapping her in his cashmere coat.

Elliot scrambled to open the rear door. "Sir, hospital or…"

"Back to the estate."

"Yes, sir."

"I want a doctor waiting," the man instructed.

"Already arranged."

Sensing the mood, the driver quietly turned up the heat. Inside the car, warm light filled the space. The man's gaze swept over her bruised knees. His dark eyes flashed cold, but his voice remained even. "They didn't hold back."

Elliot muttered, "Madam Sterling's punishments are always brutal."

"Is Victor Sterling returning soon?" the man asked.

"Yes," Elliot replied.

"Make arrangements," he ordered.

"To what extent?"

The man glanced over lazily, a violent glint flickering behind his calm eyes. "What do you think?"

…

Sydney woke weak all over but surprisingly without pain. Her palms and knees, which should have throbbed, looked frightening but hurt little. Even her tailbone, sore for days, felt better.

Still, something was wrong. She was not supposed to be here.

Frowning, she reached for the hotel phone, only to pause at a faint whiff of agarwood. The scent snapped her out of her daze. She scoffed silently, grabbed a familiar tube of custom-made ointment from the nightstand, and checked out without a word.

…

Back home, the atmosphere felt unusually pleasant, as if all the recent awkwardness was her fault for existing.

"Syd, you're back," Penelope greeted with a cheery smile.

Clearly, Caleb had made it up to her last night.

Sydney ignored her.

Penelope was not done. She walked over, flipped her hair behind her ear, and flashed a dazzling pair of rare pink diamond earrings.

Sydney had loved that set for years. It had resurfaced at auction recently, and Caleb had promised to buy it for her. He said soft pink tones suited her best and that the earrings would look stunning.

No doubt he said the same to Penelope.

Catching the flicker of emotion on Sydney's face, Penelope tilted her chin smugly. "Grandma said you have a good eye for jewelry. Take a look. These cost over a million dollars. Cal bought them for me. Think they're worth it?"

"They're decent," Sydney said with a faint smile, pushing down bitterness. "Oh, right. Cal and I are still legally married. So technically, half of that million is our joint marital property. The exact figure was 1.4 million."

She pulled out her phone. "Penelope, please wire 700,000 dollars to this account by midnight. Otherwise, I'll have to ask Grandma for it."

Penelope's phone buzzed. A message appeared with a bank account number.

Her face darkened. 'This bitch. Always threatening me with that old crone. 700,000 dollars? The Hampton family hasn't even formally split assets yet.'

After Lucas died, Penelope had inherited only 500,000 dollars.

Sydney did not care whether Penelope had the money. After a shower, she started decluttering. She refused to drag things out. She even packed her wedding dress and told Nancy to throw it away.

Just as she lugged the bundle downstairs, Caleb walked in. His eyes fell on the clumsily wrapped dress, and unease settled in his gut. "Why are you taking out the wedding dress?"

Sydney met his gaze, calm and steady. "I'm throwing it out."

'Useless things deserve to be discarded,' she thought.