Giving a snort, he eagerly devoured my lips. I felt his heavy breathing, melting my body against his.

Instead of pushing him away again, I tearfully catered to him by parting my lips. I gave way to his domineering kisses.

On the noisy dance floor, we hugged each other as if there was no one else present. We intertwined our lips and teeth intimately, lingering...

The onlookers cheered one after another, overwhelming the loud music, "What a devoted couple! Screw here! Haha..."

In a daze, I lifted up in a pair of strong and warm arms. The man carried me away with the noises from the bar fading out.

After a while, he placed me on a soft cushion, buried his head in my chest, and boomed, "Chelsea, that bastard doesn't deserve you..."

I had a long dream that I went back to the night I married Scott four years ago.

Drunk, I dizzily lay on the bed inside the bridal chamber.

Someone suddenly turned off the light and the room fell pitch-dark.

He took me up and kissed me with his wet lips.

Astonished, I attempted to push him away, only to smell a faint mint fragrance exclusive of Scott. Relieved, I panted and began stroking him.

The picture turned to the hotel. Having taken off all my clothes owing to aphrodisiac, like Helen of Troy, I seduced a man who blew a breath to my mouth with the familiar mint fragrance, "I'm here to save you..."

It must be the same guy whenever four years ago or later, right?

Having a painful heartache, I woke up with a start from the dream. Opening my eyes, I saw the golden sunshine coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I quickly closed my eyes, rubbed my swollen head, and got up from the bed. Looking around, I found myself in a strange room.

Where was I?

As I pulled back the quilts to get out of bed to discover the circumstance, Terence pushed the door open with a bowl of sober soup diffusing pungency and said, "Chelsea, you're finally awake."

Standing upright at the door, he flirtingly darted a glance at me and mockingly grinned.

Confused, I sized myself up, only to find I was in the wrinkled clothes I wore yesterday reeking of acid smell. How embarrassing that I must have sweated a lot while dreaming last night!

I quickly climbed back to bed and wrapped myself in the quilt.

Becoming a laughing stock, I muttered, "Why didn't you send me back to the old mansion since I got drunk last night?"

"Because I know you don't want to," Terence carelessly answered, walked over with long legs, handed over the sober soup for me to drink.

Indeed, I didn't want to go back to the old mansion which would soon no longer be my home.

I took the sober soup whose vapor wetted my eyes.

I had to admit that it was my fortune to have someone cooking me a bowl of sober soup.

Having finished the soup sip by sip, I put the bowl on the nightstand and genuinely appreciated, "Terence, thank you very much."

He patted me on the head with a trace of warmth flashing across his cold eyes and gently replied, "Chelsea, I watched you grow up. You don't need to give polite formula."

He was right. Having accompanied my growth, he witnessed all my mischief and unholy mess.

Recalling that I foolishly turned to him when I had menarche that very year, I chuckled, "To be honest, I sometimes even regard you as my dad because you lavish every care on me..."

"Pardon?!" Terence howled as if failing to catch me.

The room fell into deathly stillness.

Shocked, I peered at Terence who scowled at me with his tightened handsome face. Cream-faced, he seemed like suppressing flames of fury with blue veins protruding in wrath.

Meeting his deep frosty eyes, I felt like going to be sucked into them and stammered in panic, "Te...Terence, what's wrong?"

Not answering my query, he rubbed his forehead as if suffering from a headache. Throwing me a cold stare, he turned around and left.

Approaching the door, his tall and straight body paused like wishing to say something else. Sneering, he left without further ado.

Did I offend him?

His abrupt indifference puzzled me a lot with grievances.

I drank too much last night that I could merely remember I pulled a guy and repeatedly asked to divorce. Unable to recall any other story, I headed back to the House of the Laris family.

I intended to find grandpa. Unluckily, the steward Johnny said he had just gone out.

Just as I was about to ask grandpa's whereabouts, Marilyn walked down the stairs while yawning. Spotting me, she zoomed over with eyes open and slapped me in the face.

"Chelsea, thanks for coming home! Which bastard did you fool around with last night?" she reproached with sarcasm.

"How dare you hang out without completing my order? My endearing son Scott must've regretted marrying you the slut!"

She cursed at the top of her lungs.

Covering my swollen cheek, I retorted, "Cherish it as it's the last time you can enjoy venting humiliation on me."

"Bitch, pardon?" Marilyn taunted in belief and poked me in the forehead, perfectly acting hearing disorder.

Helpless with the conflict between Marilyn the mother-in-law and me the daughter-in-law, Johnny gestured for all the servants present to leave including himself as if to shun disagreement which they shouldn't get involved in.

With nobody else on the scene, I continued without scruple "Don't forget I'm to divorce your son. You'll have no right to hurt me."

Coming back to earth, Marilyn slapped herself on the head and shrieked, "Oh! You're to get divorced, but why didn't you mention it to your grandpa-in-law who was home all day yesterday? As an unchaste whore, don't you ever expect Scott to urge you to stay!"

With the diction "unchaste" stabbing me in the heart, I gulped in torment.

She was right. I'd lost my virginity, forever.

Exhausted, I staggered out, reluctant to waste even a single alphabet on Marilyn.

Unreconciled, Marilyn caught up with me, grabbed my hair, and shouted, "We haven't done yet. Are you deaf? Slut Chelsea, how dare you ignore me!"

Unable to endure the pain from my scalp, I angrily pushed her away and responded while shedding tears, "Rest assured. I'll fuck off as you wish. But mind your son not to go mad at me when I request grandpa to divorce him!"

Being the child bride doomed to marry Scott of the Laris family, I started calling Marilyn mom at a very young age.

Now for two decades, she, however, desired to expel me as early as possible. Was I so annoying to her?

Collapsing onto the ground in the high heels of ten centimeters, Marilyn screamed in a great rage with a distorted face in agony, "You damn Chelsea, remember I have your photos! I command you to divorce Scott in two days! His kid is as old as Randy and you won't have your way..."

"Mom!" A figure hoarsely broke in, rushing over from the wine cellar.