Luciana Moore delivered her ultimatum with a chilling frostiness before turning her back on him, leading her entourage away without a backward glance.

Alan Moore remained in the biting cold, his gaze fixed on her retreating silhouette. In the hazy periphery of his memory, he saw her from thirty years ago: a young woman with braids, blushing as she swore her love would last a lifetime. Before she had left, she had clutched his hands with solemn desperation, promising, "Alan, just bear it a little longer at home. When I return, I promise to give you and the children a life that everyone will envy."

She had finally returned. She had achieved great renown, the kind of success that drew envy from every corner of the country.

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to look at him even once.

Alan sat by the roadside until his fingers grew numb and wooden. Only then did he dial the number.

"My wife has been living with another man, posing as his spouse for the past thirty years. Would that count as a severe breach of professional and moral conduct?"

The voice on the other end pressed for details. Alan spoke slowly, his words flat, drained of emotion. He stayed on that call for over an hour.

When he finally returned home, the house was ablaze with light, yet the air felt suffocatingly heavy. Luciana sat at the head of the sofa, with Charlotte and Brody occupying the chairs on either side. Every face was tight with tension.

Alan’s hand hesitated on the doorknob. The moment he stepped inside, Luciana unleashed a verbal lash that hit him like a physical blow.

"Alan Moore, was it you? Did you make that anonymous report?"

Luciana surged to her feet, slamming a phone screenshot onto the coffee table, her face contorted with rage. "Killian just got back, and you’re already so desperate to drag his name through the mud?"

The screen displayed a message from one of her colleagues, warning her that someone had flagged her and Killian Daniels for ethical misconduct.

Luciana’s face was a mask of disgust. "He has lived a life of impeccable integrity! How could you bring yourself to smear him like this?"

"Do you have any idea what they’re calling him? People are whispering that he’s a 'kept man' in his sixties! His department head already pulled him aside for an internal investigation into his personal conduct!"

Alan watched her, a woman pouring her soul into protecting another man, and felt his heart split open.

"Luciana, I didn't smear anyone. You two have been living together as a couple for thirty years. Every single word in that report is the truth."

"But this kind of public scandal will destroy his career in the sciences!" Luciana retorted, righteous indignation in her voice. "He has a pure, brilliant mind—unlike you. You’ve spent thirty years counting pennies in the gutters, you’ve got nothing to show for your life, and now you’ve become this petty, small-minded man!"

Alan stared at her, a moment of sharp, agonizing clarity washing over him.

She was right. He had nothing to show.

Thirty years ago, when Luciana vanished without a trace, he had been forced to abandon his university acceptance letter to keep the family afloat. He’d spent his days hauling bricks at construction sites and his nights scouring the wholesale markets for discarded, rotting vegetables to feed their kids.

The neighbors had mocked him. They said Luciana had run off with someone better, that he was a spineless loser who couldn't even keep his own wife. To protect his children, Alan had swallowed every insult, turning his own blood into bile. He had forced himself to harden, transitioning from a soft-spoken intellectual into a man who lived by the grind.

Back then, he had missed her so much. He had wanted to tell her, *I’m so tired of carrying this weight alone.*

But she had come back, and even she despised him for his lack of status.

Alan let out a low, raspy laugh that ended in a sob.

Luciana scowled, her expression one of utter disdain. "Get on the phone right now. Tell them you lied because of your petty jealousy. Then, apologize to Killian!"

Alan looked at this face—so familiar, yet like that of a total stranger. He suddenly realized the last thirty years of his life had been thrown to the dogs.

"Apologize to Killian Daniels?" Alan repeated, his voice hollow. "Luciana, you’re dreaming."

"You are beyond reason!"

Fueled by uncontrollable rage, Luciana lunged forward, giving Alan a violent shove.

Alan had lived for decades with a chronic back injury from years of hard, grueling labor. The force of the push caught him completely off balance. He stumbled, his heels catching on the edge of the step, and he crashed into the bookshelf before tumbling down to the floor.

A dull thud echoed through the room. Alan lay face down, unmoving.

Luciana’s hand remained frozen in mid-air, her eyes still burning with resentment. "Alan, you’ve changed so much I don't even recognize you. I used to think you were just a failure, but I never realized you were this malicious."

Alan tried to speak, but the taste of copper filled his throat. He coughed, and a spray of blood splattered onto the floorboards.

Then, Charlotte let out a terrified scream. "Mom! Dad passed out! He's bleeding from his head!"

The living room descended into chaos.

Brody frowned, pulling out his phone to call emergency services, his voice heavy with weary annoyance. "Dad really is something... choosing a time like this to cause a scene. If Uncle Killian finds out about this, he’s going to feel so guilty."

As they lifted Alan onto a stretcher, his consciousness began to drift into a gray abyss. The last thing he saw was the small, folded protective amulet he had kept in his pocket for years. It had fallen out during the scuffle.

It lay on the floor, helpless and neglected, right beneath the heel of Luciana’s shoe.

She stepped down on it, crushing it into the dirt as if she were obliterating everything he had ever been.