“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

But before he could touch the table, two burly bodyguards of Mr. Harrison instantly restrained him, twisting his arms behind his back, and Mark groaned in pain. Mark thrashed like a madman, cursing Mr. Harrison, Mrs. Vance, and even me. His mask had completely fallen. His violent and greedy nature was exposed to everyone. I looked at Mark with an empty gaze. The love I once had for him, a love I gave sincerely despite being hurt often, had now disappeared without a trace. Seeing him go crazy over an inheritance when my mother’s grave was still fresh, I realized he had never loved me. He only loved himself and the comfort I provided.