She Traded Her Heart for Vengeance

As the morning mist drifted past the ornate window lattice, I clutched that yellowed newspaper. The glaring front-page headline: Maddox Lockwood had paid one hundred thousand for the dancer Audrey Clarke's first night. My fingertips brushed over the blurred figure in the corner of the page; my chest felt as if struck by a blunt weapon, a dull ache spreading. Ten years had passed since he knelt before me by the riverbank, holding nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine roses, proposing; ten whole years. Back then, the river breeze carried the scent of blossoms, and the starlight in his eyes shone brighter than the river; he promised me the grandest wedding. But that wedding—I waited ten years for it, only to become a bitter joke in the end. I folded the newspaper repeatedly, its edges worn and pale, until finally slipping it into my sleeve. I stood and changed into a plain long dress; the woman in the mirror was composed, her brows and eyes serene, save for a cold fire smoldering deep within. Maddox Lockwood's sworn enemy was Stanley Ferguson, a ruthless warlord entrenched in western city, whose brutal methods put him in constant opposition to Maddox. Once this thought took hold, it spread like wild vines, impossible to restrain any longer. I had the maidservant prepare the carriage and went straight to Stanley Ferguson's mansion. The gatekeeper, seeing my fine attire, though unfamiliar with me, dared not be neglectful. After notifying inside, he ushered me into the parlor. Stanley Ferguson sat on the sofa, smoking; through the curling smoke rings, his gaze was sharp as an eagle's, appraising me intently. "Ms. Schumann, what an honor to have you. May I ask the reason for your visit?" His voice was low, tinged with a hint of indifference. I did not beat around the bush, looking him straight in the eyes: "Mr. Ferguson, I want to make a deal with you." Stanley raised an eyebrow, signaling me to continue. "I will keep you company for one night if you help me deal with Maddox." My tone was calm, showing not the slightest trace of emotion. He was momentarily stunned, then chuckled softly, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray: "Ms. Schumann, you are indeed straightforward. Aren't you afraid that if Maddox finds out, he'll skin you alive?" "I came here daringly, so I'm not afraid if he finds out." I met his gaze without the slightest sign of hesitation. Stanley Ferguson gazed at me for a long moment, as if seeking to pierce through me utterly. At last, he nodded: "Very well, I agree." That night, the mansion's lights remained burning until dawn. When I left at dawn, Stanley handed me a shawl to conceal the red marks on my neck. "I will watch Maddox's movements for you." His voice was a shade softer than the night before. I took the shawl without a word and turned to enter the car. As the car entered the Military Governor's Mansion, Maddox Lockwood held Audrey Clarke in his arms, admiring the blossoms in the courtyard. Sunlight shimmered on Audrey Clarke's curls as she laughed softly, leaning intimately into Maddox Lockwood's embrace. I strode forward and stood before them. Maddox glanced at me; the smile on his face faded slightly, his tone tinged with impatience: "What is it?" "Maddox, we are breaking up." I enunciated each word clearly, my voice firm and unyielding. Instinctively, Audrey shrank deeper into Maddox's arms, her eyes defiantly challenging me. Maddox snorted, pinching Audrey's chin, his voice dripping with contempt: "Pearl, what tantrum are you throwing now?" "I'm not throwing a tantrum; I'm serious." I looked at him calmly. "Serious?" He seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke, "You think that if you leave me, you can go anywhere?" "Where I go is none of your concern." My tone was cold.