Chapter 1

June Rivers had to earn merit points for every kiss, embrace, and even intimate moment with her husband. All because she was once a simple shepherdess, deemed an unworthy match for the prestigious, scholarly lineage of Xavier Thorne.

The raw, vibrant spirit of the plains had once deeply enchanted Xavier, but by the third year of their marriage, that fascination had withered. He brought home a governess of impeccable poise named Rosalind Vane.

"Your conduct is still miles away from what is expected of the mistress of the Thorne estate," Xavier said coldly. "Rosalind is the sole daughter of a century-old noble family and is deeply versed in etiquette. From now on, she will be your standard."

June thought she was merely learning social decorum and the grace of high society. She never expected the nightmare that awaited. On the very first day, because she let out a small laugh while sipping soup, Rosalind poured scalding wax down her throat. As June struggled, the burning oil spilled over her lips, searing half her face into a violent, angry red.

Xavier flinched, his heart racing with the urge to protect her, but Rosalind stopped him.

"Silence at the table is a rule; she must be punished. If you continue to coddle your wife, Mr. Thorne, I cannot teach her. You might as well find someone else."

The man stopped Rosalind first. After a moment of hesitation, he turned to comfort June instead. "The process of breaking old, uncouth habits is painful. You must endure it."

"Where there is punishment, there is reward," Rosalind added smoothly. "As long as Mr. Thorne does not interfere, I promise to mold the mistress into the lady she should be."

And so, June’s nightmare began.

She was forced to do everything with her own hands. She cleaned the entire Thorne mansion alone and hand-washed the clothes of the entire household, including the servants. Her hands cracked and bled in the freezing water, over and over again.

To be fit for the parlor, she was made to transcribe the family’s codes of conduct a hundred times every day. A single mistake meant a tenfold penalty. She often worked through the night, going days without sleep.

She was subjected to a draconian diet. Coarse meals were all she was allowed. If her waistline increased by even a single centimeter, she was punished with three days of solitary confinement and dehydration.

The merit ledger recorded it all: ten blisters on her fingers earned a kiss; twenty error-free galas earned an embrace; crawling up a thousand stone steps to pray for the family’s fortune earned one night in his bed.

As the matriarch’s sixtieth birthday approached, Rosalind insisted June perform the piano. June, whose hands were meant for swinging whips and herding sheep, was forced to practice day and night until the bones in her fingers nearly fractured. Only then did she master the piece.

Rosalind merely made a dry note in the ledger: "Passable. 20 points awarded."

That evening, when June could no longer bear the pain, she took her hard-earned merit sheet to Xavier’s study with trembling hands. But from inside, the sound of a woman’s wanton laughter drifted out.

"Do you want me, Xavier?"

The usually cold and detached Xavier was staring at Rosalind with hazy, longing eyes, as if he were a predator about to devour his prey. His desire was already straining against his clothes.

"You’re the one who provoked me first."

The woman’s eyes were heavy with seduction. Her usually modest long dress had been shredded into something scandalously thin, hanging precariously off her frame. Her fingertips slid downward, shattering the silence of the room as they instantly fell into each other’s arms.

The sight, the rhythmic gasps—it felt like a serrated blade carving through June’s heart. Her blood turned to ice; her heart skipped a beat, then nearly stopped.

She never imagined that the two people who preached "propriety" and "restraint" so loudly could be this shameless!

She pushed the door open. The scene of debauchery inside made her stomach turn.

Rosalind looked up, her expression calm, devoid of any shame at being caught.

"A mistress must know how to serve her husband. Since you haven't finished your training, I am simply performing these duties for you for now."

Xavier didn't even stop his movements, his breath ragged.

"Rosalind is the finest instructor. She is demonstrating 'bedroom etiquette' for me. It will only make our future together more harmonious."

Propriety? Decorum? It was nothing but a shroud for their filth!

"This is an affair! You are cheating!"

Rosalind slapped her across the face, accusing her with disappointment, "I have wasted my time on you! Is that vulgar language how a lady speaks?"

"Ridiculous! What other words should I use for an affair?"

Before June could react, Xavier kicked her aside. Her forehead slammed against the corner of the desk, and the world went black for a moment.

"Enough! Who gave you permission to speak to your teacher like that?"

Only when June’s sobbing subsided did he look at her. His gaze flickered over her bandaged hands and settled on the merit sheet.

"Twenty points? Fine. Come here. I have a moment. I’ll grant you that kiss."

"Grant me?"

Her heart was being torn apart until it bled. She had worked so hard for Xavier, endured so much humiliation every day just to stand by his side, while he was wallowing in filth with another.

"I had to bleed from every finger just to get a kiss from my own husband... a kiss you 'grant' me like charity?"

The man slammed his glass onto the coffee table and frowned.

"I am a man with needs. If you were more capable, I wouldn't have to exercise such restraint. Rosalind is just helping me find release. I haven't done anything wrong. What more do you want?"

Such high-sounding words. In the end, according to him, she was the one at fault.

Love at first sight, risking her life to save him, a promise for three lifetimes—he was the one who had pursued her so desperately. He was the one who had performed every absurd romantic gesture to prove his heart and defied his elders to marry her. He had dragged her away from her home, and in just five years, she had gone from his "precious jewel" to a nuisance—a woman with no upbringing and a temper.

The door slammed shut in her face, but Xavier’s final words echoed in her ears.

"It’s normal for a man to seek flowers outside. Forgiveness is a lesson every mistress of this house must learn."

June let out a cold laugh. She went to her room and pulled out the one thing she had kept from her past: her old sheep whip.

She pushed the study door open once more!

Chapter 2

Crack!

The whip struck both of them directly. Rosalind screamed and hid behind the man.

"You’ve lost your mind!"

Xavier’s face was marked. He grabbed the whip with force, flinging June and the whip to the floor.

"Rosalind taught you that whips are not to be used at home. It’s unrefined. Where are your manners!"

Her father had taught her that only a whip could punish the unfaithful. It was true for sheep, and it was true for people.

The wounds on her fingertips split open again, staining the bandages red. The metallic taste of blood in her throat and her tears fell together onto the floor.

"You’re having an affair, and you want to talk to me about manners? You betrayed our love!"

He had betrayed the love for which she had sacrificed everything.

Her hysterical state only made Xavier chuckle.

"My heart is still with you, so how is that an affair? I brought you here five years ago, yet you still haven't changed those crude habits of the plains. You have no sense of rules. Go and transcribe the family code a thousand times..."

"Mr. Thorne," Rosalind interrupted, showing the red welts on her arm. "She has transcribed the code countless times, but it never reaches her heart or mind."

His eyes flashed with pain, and he relented. "How should she be punished then?"

A chill rose from the soles of June's feet, making her tremble uncontrollably.

"Make her transcribe the code with her own blood. But the mistress's wounds heal quickly; by the time one transcription is finished, the scabs will have formed," Rosalind said, holding her head high with eyes devoid of warmth. "Applying salt to the wounds will prevent them from healing. A blunt pen is no match for a sharp memory; this is the price for the mistress's lack of upbringing."

"No! Xavier, I'll die from the pain!"

June scrambled backward, but the servants pinned her down.

The man was not moved by her desperate cries. Instead, he supported Rosalind and commanded the servants.

"The instructor is teaching the mistress. If she doesn't learn, you're all fired!"

That night, the tip of a blade dipped in fine salt sliced through June’s skin again and again. For a thousand transcriptions, they cut a thousand wounds!