Upon hearing her calm, matter-of-fact tone, something sharp jabbed Caleb’s chest. He frowned. “Why are you suddenly throwing it away? Didn’t you treasure that wedding dress?”

Sydney did not deny it. For three years, she had kept a spot in the closet just for that dress. Each year, she had it professionally cleaned and preserved. She had treasured it because she believed people married only once in a lifetime, and a wedding dress was something to keep.

But now, they were divorcing. Knowing Caleb would likely bring his new love into this house soon after, that dress, like her, had become redundant.

Sydney gave a faint smile. “It’s ruined. I noticed the other day it has a huge tear.”

“Even so, you can’t just toss it like that.” Caleb studied her forced smile, assuming she could not bear to part with it. “Tell you what—I’ll have someone from the boutique take a look. Maybe it can be repaired.”

“Don’t bother.” Sydney shook her head and met his eyes. “Some things, once broken, can’t be fixed.”

She was not just talking about the dress. She meant their marriage. Before he could say more, she turned and walked back inside.

Watching her limp slightly, Caleb suddenly remembered. He hurried to catch up. “Wait, are you still hurt? It’s been days. Why are you still limping?”

‘A little late, aren’t we?’ she thought mockingly.

Sydney needed his guilt now. She lowered her eyes and answered plainly, “It was almost better, but last night I had to kneel outside the Sterling estate for four hours.”

“What did you say?” Caleb stared at her and noticed her swollen, reddened palms. His pupils tightened. “Your hands too?”

Sydney blinked. “Got beaten.”

Her tone was casual, without a hint of complaint.

Caleb frowned. “Why did you kneel for so long? And why were you beaten?”

He did not dare imagine the details. ‘Isn’t Sydney practically family to the Sterlings? How did one visit leave her like this?’

Sydney looked up, and for a moment, a memory of her younger self, eager to marry him, flashed through her mind. She had truly dreamed of growing old with Caleb. She stayed silent for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “Because you didn’t come with me.”

Frustration swelled in his chest. His throat tightened. “You’re still smiling. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It does.” Sydney nodded. “But I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?”

She pressed her palm gently and spoke as if it was someone else’s story. “Anytime you don’t come with me, something like this happens.”

This was not even the worst. Since childhood, whenever she stepped out of line, Eloise would punish her. That pebble-lined path in the Sterlings’ courtyard was made just for her.

Before she turned seven, Sydney already knew how to kneel perfectly—knees aligned, legs straight, toes tucked—to satisfy Eloise.

Caleb crouched and lifted the hem of her dress. What he saw twisted his gut.

Her knees were badly swollen, dark bruises blooming beneath. Her calves were mottled purple and blue, as if someone had painted her skin with cruelty. Against her fair complexion, the bruises looked even more painful.

Compared to this, Penelope’s lightly reddened knees were not even close.

Caleb’s anger surged. Without a word, he lifted Sydney into his arms and settled her on the sofa. His brow furrowed deeply. “Why didn’t you call me?”