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##Chapter 1

The tenderness on Allen's face instantly froze.

"What did you post?" he asked, the smug smile still stuck at the corner of his mouth.

I didn't answer, just turned my phone screen toward him.

When he saw those words clearly, his pupils contracted sharply.

"Freya!" He snatched my phone away, his voice already distorted.

The screen's glow reflected his face changing from disbelief to rage.

"Are you insane?" he growled, veins bulging on the back of his hands.

I looked at him coldly. "You're the one who showed me, aren't you?"

"I showed you Fiona's happiness, not for you to humiliate her!"

He frantically tried to delete the comment, jabbing at the screen.

"Delete it! Right now!" He shoved the phone in my face, commanding.

I leaned back against the sofa, avoiding his phone.

"Birthday gifts I've given out don't get taken back."

My calmness completely ignited his fury.

"Birthday gift? You call this a gift?" He violently threw my phone onto the nearby armchair.

The phone sank into the soft cushion without making a sound, but the silence felt even more oppressive.

He pointed at my nose, advancing step by step.

"When did you become so vicious? So unreasonable?"

Spittle nearly sprayed on my face.

"What exactly did Fiona do to offend you? Why are you treating her like this?!"

"She didn't offend me," I said clearly. "She just took something that doesn't belong to her."

"Took what?" Allen was stunned by my words, then became even more furious. "I gave you money, gave you a home, gave you the status of Mrs. Barnes! What does Fiona have? She only has me!"

His phone rang at that moment.

The shrill ringtone cut through the standoff in the living room.

He glanced at the screen - the caller ID showed "Fiona."

Allen's expression instantly switched, like putting on a mask of tenderness.

The rage disappeared, replaced by a deliberate, almost humble appeasement.

He immediately answered the call, even stepping aside two steps, as if trying to avoid me, the "source of contamination."

"Baby, don't be scared, I'm fine." His voice was low, coaxing.

Fiona's tearful voice came through the phone, clear enough for me to hear despite the distance: "Allen, I saw the comment... Does she really hate me? Should I not have come back?"

"No, it has nothing to do with you." Allen immediately soothed her. "Don't overthink it."

"She must be angry. Come back and stay with me, please? I'm scared being alone." Fiona's voice was fragile and pitiful.

Allen's tone was full of pity: "Okay, I'll come over right away. Be good."

He continued speaking softly into the phone: "Freya is just... throwing a tantrum. I can handle it."

I listened.

My heart felt like it was being gripped by an icy hand, then slowly crushed.

He hung up and turned around.

All his anger was redirected at me, even fiercer than before.

"Look what you've done! Now you're satisfied? You scared her!" He turned the tables completely.

"She just returned to the country, all alone with no one to rely on, not even anyone to talk to! Did you have to provoke her like this?"

He put me on trial morally, nailing me to a cross of malice.

My gaze moved past him to the dining table.

The birthday dinner I had spent the entire afternoon carefully preparing for him.

Now cold.

The greasy smell of the dishes mixed with the fragrance he had lit for Fiona in the living room.

My stomach churned violently.

I felt intensely nauseous.

Allen saw me silent and pale, thinking I was finally scared.

He snorted coldly with a victor's attitude.

"You better figure out how to fix this mess yourself."

"Call Fiona to apologize, or post another social media update to explain."

"Don't make this difficult for me."

After saying this, he picked up his car keys from the sofa.

He walked to the dining table and glanced at the spread of food.

"This stuff - throw it out," he said with disgust. "Just looking at it kills my appetite."

He didn't look at me again.

"I'm going to check on Fiona first. I won't be back tonight."

The door slammed shut behind him.

Bang.

In the empty room, only I remained, along with a table full of food he had sentenced to death.

The cramping in my stomach became clearer, wave after wave.

I clutched my stomach, wanting to get up for some hot water.

But my body had lost all strength.

I slid down along the sofa, slowly collapsing to the floor.

The cold wooden floor pressed mercilessly against my cheek.