I married a sick prince, and it was rumored that he would not live more than a year.
At that time, I only thought of one thing: when he dies, I will be the most romantic and wealthy widow in the world, with a box full of banknotes and jewels, and a happy life.
It's a pity that God did not fulfill his wish.
Not only was he not dead, but he was living more and more vigorously. Occasionally he would stare at me with his unfathomable eyes and smile, like a wolf staring at its prey. Later I found out that his illness was fake and he had been humiliated and dormant for many years just to win the title.
And I became his sharpest knife.
