Chapter 1The Butterfly's Freedom

I was born with Epidermolysis Bullosa, my skin as fragile as a butterfly's wings.

After my family went bankrupt, I asked my billionaire husband for a loan.

Lucas Sterling took me to a tattoo parlor, raising an eyebrow at me.

"One million dollars for one tattoo. How much do you want to borrow?"

I knew this was his revenge, that I shouldn't touch his canary.

But I nodded anyway.

The first succubus tattoo landed on my private parts; I bit my tongue until it bled.

The second tattoo, the word "Harder" on my lower back, bled profusely.

By the time ten tattoos were done, a systemic infection blurred my consciousness.

Lucas casually threw a few bills at me.

Ten million Vietnamese Dong, less than five hundred US dollars.

But this time, I didn't cry or make a scene.

I picked up the money and smiled at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling. This is enough."

Enough to buy a decent urn for myself.

* * *

Bending down to pick up the last bill, Lucas's leather shoe stepped on my hand.

"What did you call me?"

He reached out and pinched my cheek.

"You usually love calling me Hubby. Why the change?"

Blood seeped from my skin more and more, stinging like needles.

I lowered my eyes, bowing my head to him for the first time.

"Lucas Sterling, give me the divorce papers. I'll sign."

In the past, if I shed a single tear, his heart would ache for a long time.

But there was no longer any pity in Lucas's eyes.

A faint smile curled his lips. "Want a divorce? I spent so much effort nursing you back to health, why would I let another man benefit?"

He ordered unquestionably, "From now on, give the master bedroom to Sarah. She's weak and afraid of the cold."

I didn't resist anymore and nodded.

Walking out of the tattoo parlor, my thin body trembled with pain.

I counted the money in my hand.

He gave a hundred extra.

Just as I was about to go back in to return it to Lucas.

I heard the excited voice of the tattoo parlor owner.

"Mr. Sterling, a total of ten million people watched the live stream just now!"

The string in my brain suddenly snapped.

The shame of having my private parts seen by others almost crushed me.

Every word on my skin pierced my body with a hundred times the pain.

Because I was born with Butterfly Disease, a slight touch could cause my skin to crack and bleed endlessly.

It was Lucas who knelt at the door of a famous doctor for three days and three nights, begging for an ancestral prescription.

At his most vigorous age, he suppressed his desire and didn't touch me for eight years.

Until my condition was under control, we exchanged our first times in bed.

Lucas held me in his arms and swore, "I will protect you with my life in this lifetime."

But later he met Sarah Miller, a college athlete, while playing ball.

She was young, loved to smile, and full of vitality.

A person from a different world than me.

Lucas said to her in bed again and again, "Sarah, I wish I could give you my life."

Now hearing the tattoo parlor owner's words, Lucas seemed to think of something.

He narrowed his eyes, "Did you capture her face just now?"

"As per your instructions, Mrs. Sterling's face was blurred the whole time."

I hurriedly opened my phone.

It turned out the words tattooed on me were voted by netizens in the live stream one by one.

"Sewer," "Must-Eat in NY," "Master Please Fxxk"...

Filthy words covered my whole body.

Screenshots of the live stream were going viral online.

Now, all of New York was guessing who this faceless female streamer was.

Lucas's shoulders relaxed, his voice indifferent.

"If Nina Gu were a bit more obedient, I wouldn't have treated her like this."

"Sarah should calm down after seeing the screenshots and talk to me."

The cold wind outside was biting, but it couldn't compare to the chill in my heart.

Just because I didn't allow my husband's initials to appear on another woman.

A few days ago, I arranged for bodyguards to forcibly remove the tattoo on his mistress Sarah's chest.

However, Lucas retaliated against me tenfold.

Covering the filthy words on my neck with my coat.

I left the tattoo parlor as if escaping hell.

My husband of ten years probably knew better than anyone.

Tattoos were the limit of my body; I couldn't bear the pain of removing them.

And these disgusting words would become the shame of my life.

Instead of returning to the Sterling mansion, I asked the taxi driver to turn around.

After my family went bankrupt, my mother moved from a villa to a slum. A single room less than 50 square feet, New Yorkers call it a coffin home.

Getting out of the car.

I saw an ambulance parked by the road.

Two paramedics rushed over carrying a stretcher.

The person on the stretcher was covered tightly from head to toe by a white cloth.

Unease rose in my heart.

With trembling hands, I dialed my mother's number.

The next second, the exclusive ringtone I recorded for her came from under that white cloth.