Fu Jingting had only agreed to marry her because the doctors had declared Gu Manyin would never wake up. Yet, Fu Jingting's coldness toward her had never thawed. Rong Shu tilted her chin up, her gaze unwavering as she met his. “I am your wife. Why should I be the one to move out just because she’s back?” His gaze snapped to her, his expression slowly darkening, the depths of his eyes turning chilling. “Why? Because Gu Manyin says you were the one who hit her with your car six years ago.” For a moment, Rong Shu was stunned. Then, a bitter laugh escaped her. “If I said I didn’t do it, would you believe me?” He advanced on her, backing her into a corner. “Do you really think I would?” he said, his voice cold. His dark eyes never left her face. They churned with a sudden, raw disgust. “You deceitful woman,” he snarled, his face a mask of cold fury. “There’s nothing I want more than to make you suffer a thousand times what Gu Manyin went through.” The cruelty in his eyes stunned her. Six years. Even a stone should have warmed by now. But his heart… it was still ice. “I didn’t do it,” Rong Shu insisted, her lips pressed into a thin, white line. Fu Jingting looked down at her, his dark eyes devoid of any warmth, as cold and hard as ice. “You’re a smart woman. You know what to do.” He left, leaving only a chilling silence in his wake. Rong Shu stared at her reflection in the mirror—pale, exhausted. Was that really her? She had once been so proud. How had this relationship worn her down into someone so humbled? It was laughable. After a long moment, she let out a slow breath. “It’s time to let myself go…” … The next morning, Fu Jingting took Gu Manyin to the hospital for a follow-up. Rong Shu stood before the mirror. She took off the apron she had worn for six years and changed into a white dress. Then, suitcase in hand, she went downstairs. Fu Jinglin was sprawled on the couch watching TV, one leg crossed over the other. He looked up. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Rong Shu gave him a detached glance and kept walking toward the door without a word. Seeing that something was wrong, Fu Jinglin scrambled up and grabbed her suitcase, glaring. “Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear me talking to you? Did you clean my room? Did you make breakfast? Where the hell do you think you’re going this early in the morning?” The sixteen-year-old boy had no respect for his sister-in-law. Far from it, he treated her like a servant, constantly ordering her around. Rong Shu pried his fingers off the handle, one by one. Her face was like stone. “Listen here, you little punk,” she said, her voice cold. “From now on, I’m done waiting on you all.” She hadn’t used much force, but he deliberately shrieked, “Mom! Mom, get down here! This bitch is picking on me!” “What is it, Jinglin?” Wang Shuqin came downstairs, and her face instantly turned livid when she saw the scene. Screaming curses, she grabbed a feather duster and swung it at Rong Shu. “Good heavens! How dare you bully my son, you worthless slut! I’ll beat you to death!” The old woman had hit her before. Back then, for Fu Jingting’s sake, she had endured it. But this time… Rong Shu caught the duster mid-swing, wrenched it from her grasp, and threw it to the floor. Her voice was ice. “You touch me again. I dare you.” Wang Shuqin was momentarily stunned by her defiance. When she recovered, she shrieked, “Rong Shu, have you lost your mind? I’m going to make my son divorce you!” In the past, she had always avoided conflict with Wang Shuqin, partly out of respect for the old matriarch, and partly because she didn’t want to give Fu Jingting another reason to despise her. She used to be afraid. Now, she didn’t care anymore. “Suit yourself,” Rong Shu said flatly. Ignoring the tantrum erupting behind her, she dragged her suitcase out of the Fu residence. A red Ferrari was parked outside. A handsome, devilish-looking man was in the driver’s seat. He waved at her. “Baby, get in!” Rong Shu got into the car, and they drove away.