Chapter 10 "My daughter's life without your son will be wide open, her future limitless. But your son without my daughter-his good days are over." "It was your son who reached above his station. And I will never allow him to climb up to her a second time!" Inside the room, I quietly packed my luggage. Every word of my father's fury, I had heard. My eyes burned red, but for once, the tears that fell were not of sorrow, but of relief. Tears born from the happiness of having my family stand behind me. I never once looked out the window. Because this time, I finally understood. To love someone should not mean shrinking yourself, surrendering your dignity, begging through endless tears. Real love meant being able to live clear-eyed and proud, even on your own. I didn't hate Norwell. But I never wanted to see him again. His shirt was already drenched with cold sweat, yet he remained still, as if by doing so he could somehow pay for all he had done. Suddenly, his body convulsed with coughing, a splash of blood staining the tiles beneath him. "Norwell!" Mrs. Harris shrieked, rushing forward, while Mr. Harris's face turned ashen. He barked at the assistant to call an ambulance. But Norwell clung to the doorframe, refusing to collapse. "Cynthia... I'm sorry... I was wrong... I wronged you... I'm a bastard, I deserve to die..." His voice weakened, and at last his strength gave way. He crumpled to the floor. His mother clutched him, sobbing, while the Harris family scrambled to rush him to the hospital. Later, I heard that when Lucy went to the hospital to care for him, he turned her away. He canceled all her cards, withdrew her privileges, and expelled her son from the elite academy. Lucy hounded him relentlessly, making scenes, while chaos tore through their lives. Harris Group's stock plummeted, the company on the brink of collapse. Chapter 10 100.00% By the time Norwell sent over the signed dIVOR new life. The view outside the car window blurred, giving way to distant rivers and mountains. I no longer had to bow my head to anyone. I no longer had to look up to anyone. Because I was a mountain on my own. Miles away, in Illinois, yellow sands rolled beneath a scorching sun. With my team, I crouched beside a newly uncovered Mound, carefully recording the inscriptions painted on the ancient walls. The land was vast, barren. The sun was blinding, but I had never felt more clear-headed. Once, I gave up everything for Norwell. The institute's recommendation letters. Invitations to international research projects. Even the archaeological grant I had fought so hard to secure. I had abandoned them all. Because he told me, "Cynthia, learn to be a good wife." Because he told me, "Stop burying yourself in those dusty archives-learn recipes instead." But now, standing on this harsh, windblown soil, I felt a steadiness I had never known. I wore my work clothes once more, diving into the desert sands and the dust of history. At dawn, I crossed the historic site with my teammates. At night, I bent over my desk, sorting records, exhausted yet fulfilled. No one scolded me for being "too stubborn." No one criticized me for not being "gentle enough." I was myself again. Not someone's appendage. Not the shadow behind a man. But Cynthia Sinclair. I was an archaeologist again. A scholar of ancient cultures, leading my own team. I had returned, not just to my passion, but to myself. Chapter 1 Divorce Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!