The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

Candida pulled out her phone and tapped into a chat window.

A photo immediately appeared on the screen.

A man and a woman were nestled together, looking far too intimate. The man seemed to have dozed off, while the woman pressed her lips to his cheek.

A mocking smile flickered in Candida's eyes.

"Karl, do you get it now?" she asked quietly.

Karl hesitated, then blurted out, "None of this is real. Scarlett took those pictures when I was drunk-you know I can't hold my liquor. And there were a bunch of friends there, they can all vouch for me—"

Candida cut him off, her tone icy. "If you weren't with her, how would she even have a chance to take a photo like this?"noveldrama

Karl's eyes darted away. "She works at that lounge. We just ran into each other by coincidence..."

Candida couldn't help but sneer. "Coincidence? Every single day?"

Ever since Scarlett returned, Candida had been bombarded with her harassing messages.

Scarlett would beg her, asking Candida to keep her boyfriend in check and stop making life difficult for her. She claimed she'd already paid dearly for her past mistakes, that she was suffering enough, and pleaded for Candida to stop seeking revenge.

At first, Candida had been naïve enough to feel sorry for Scarlett.

She even spoke up for her. And when Scarlett messaged her yet again, saying

Karl and his friends were hassling her at work, Candida went there herself.

She saw for herself as some spoiled rich kid harassed Scarlett.

Karl just stood by, watching coldly.

But Candida noticed that when that guy grabbed Scarlett's hand, something flashed dangerously in Karl's eyes.

Without warning, Karl smashed his glass and punched the guy-hard.

In all the years she'd been with him, Candida had never seen Karl lose control like that.

Since taking over the family business, he'd only grown more composed, to the point where his expression rarely gave anything away.

Getting into fights... That was the kind of thing only reckless boys did not the Karl she thought she knew.

It was only then that Candida realized Scarlett's desperate appeals were just a new form of provocation.

A way of telling her: Karl only loses control because of me.

Suddenly, Karl stepped forward and grabbed her hand, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Candida, you know what happened back then. She abandoned me when I needed her most. She left without a backward glance, ignoring all my pleas.

I feel nothing for her now-only resentment."

Candida yanked her hand free, her irritation plain as day.

The very sight of him made her feel sick, physically repulsed.

"We're leaving, Stella," Candida said.

Stella, standing quietly by her side, had seen enough to understand what was going on. She nodded gently.

They turned to go, but Karl blocked Candida's path, his voice suddenly gentle.

"Candida, I haven't agreed to break up."

Candida recoiled as if she'd seen something disgusting, deliberately widening the gap between them.

"A breakup doesn't require your consent," she said flatly.

The look of disgust on her face seemed to cut Karl to the bone.

But his lips only curled into a deeper, almost sinister smile.

He lowered his head, looming over her.

"Candida, let's get one thing straight. The only reason you get to throw a tantrum is because I let you.

But if you push me-if you really

want to end things—” He paused, that cruet smile lingering. "I could keep you locked away as my

mistress. And you know I never joke about these things. You know I'm more than capable of it.

Or have you forgotten what it was like when you had nowhere to go?"

Candida's eyes widened, her face draining of all color.

She would never forget how miserable she'd been during that time.

When she first tried to break up, Karl did exactly what he was doing now: pleaded with her, over and over When she refused to go back, he lost patience.

"Candida, you'll come crawling back to me. You'll beg for it."

He froze her bank account, made sure she couldn't rent an apartment or find a

job.

But she'd rather sleep on the streets than crawl back to him.

So he sent someone to steal the little money she had left.

She couldn't even afford food after that.

Her old friends all avoided her-no one dared to help.

She knew exactly what Karl was doing: forcing her to return.

She'd tried to convince herself it was just about the money if she went back. But

she couldn't swallow her pride.

She'd stood by him when he lost his sight, cared for him when he was at his lowest.

And this was how he repaid her: by leaving her with not even a chance to survive, as if she were his mortal enemy and not the woman who'd stood by him for years.

How did she get through it?

She scavenged for leftovers at a fast food joint, slept in the train station at night.

Eventually, one of Karl's old friends couldn't watch any longer. He slipped her enough money to finally escape the city.

As soon as she left, everything seemed to turn around.

On her very first day, she met Stella.

She found a job, rediscovered her love of piano, and made new friends.

She treasured this life. She would never go back to that nightmare.

Candida drew a deep breath, steadying herself.

"If you really think you can do it-go ahead and try," she said in a low, firm voice.

She turned to leave, but Karl's voice stopped her cold.

"Candida, you're not leaving until I say so."

As soon as the words left his mouth, two bodyguards stepped out from behind

him.

They moved in, ready to restrain Candida.

Stella jumped forward to help, but a hand seized her wrist, yanking her off balance

and sending her crashing to the floor.

Her arm scraped painfully along the ground, leaving a trail of blood.

Karl's voice rang out above her.

"I'm only giving you this chance because of your father's reputation. Meddle

again, and I won't be so forgiving."