It's very hard to understand a man's behavior, especially in worst-case scenarios; they somehow manage to rise and shine once again.

"Ugh... Should I write it down like that, brother? Or would it be better to keep it as it is!" I said boringly.

He looked away from the newspaper for a few seconds and then replied with a hum, "Well, do whatever you see fit. It's not like you'd listen to me if I say what I really want to."

"That is perfectly acceptable to me. Frankly, I believe that silence can often be more impactful than speech. Nevertheless, I am prepared to receive any critiques you may have regarding myself and my novel." I conveyed this with a knowing look.

He paused for a few moments before speaking, "Perhaps you should consider focusing on your own marriage. Writing novels may not be beneficial when your husband requests a cup of tea, a task you're unfamiliar with."

"Well, there is a chef available to prepare everything for him and for us. I don't see why I should spend my time on it. Alternatively, he could take care of it himself," I expressed with a slight pout.

He looked at me with an expression of disbelief and remarked, "I already feel a sense of pity for him. Please understand, Camellia, that's not the Wilson's household where you can act freely and be as delicate as a fragile doll. These are the Martinis we are discussing, and they can be quite challenging to deal with, particularly when the situation involves their own heir. Therefore, I urge you to exercise caution."

"Your sister is quite strong, brother. You will soon witness how I shall manage that household," I stated with confidence.

He shook his head and returned to reading the newspaper.

**********

Indeed, that is precisely what I conveyed to my brother three years ago, yet I did not anticipate this outcome.

I found myself confined within a spacious, red birdcage located inside the bedroom.

"Oh, my dearest wife, you are still awake at this hour! Please tell me you were waiting for me to help you drift off to sleep; I find that quite endearing, no, I truly adore it," he expressed as he set his sword aside.

​I looked at him in disgust. I desperately wanted to beat him up, but this cage made it impossible. For three long years, my only option has been to play the part of the cool, obedient wife to a madman.

"We are going out tomorrow morning."

"Where?!"

He walked around the cage a few times, then stopped, turned around, and said with a smirk, "To the dungeons, a fifty-fifty play, dear wife."

I was unable to comprehend his meaning, but his smirk while saying that truly sent shivers down my spine.

"What dungeons? What fifty fifty thing you are talking about?"

​"Don't worry, you'll understand," he said, stepping closer to the cage. "You'll understand just how much your husband loves you." He blew me a flying kiss.

For a full three years, I witnessed things within these household walls that no ordinary human could ever handle.

​This madman and his madness-when will it all end? Now, for sure, I'm next on his list. Yet, if he plays, I'll rule. I might look like a docile, fragile girl, but I'm far crazier than anyone could have imagined.

Because of that, let's set this fire together, dear husband, just as you planned.