As I heard his words, I let out a chuckle and asked calmly, "And what does that have to do with you?"

In an instant, the tension in the room became razor-sharp, like a drawn blade ready to strike. Yaron scoffed, his gaze dripping with disdain. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but it's obvious you're not behaving.

"Megan, one of the conditions for marrying me is absolute obedience—no exceptions."

His tone was light, but every word carried the weight of a warning.

I, however, acted as though I had not heard him. I suddenly rose to my feet, muttering under my breath, "I can't be bothered to argue with a lunatic like you." Then, I turned around to leave.

Before I could take a single step, Yaron was on his feet, grabbing my wrist and looking down at me. "What's this? Playing hard to get?

"You think that throwing a tantrum, blocking me, and cutting me off will make me give in?" He leaned in close, stopping just inches from my face, his voice laced with anger as he gritted out, "Keep dreaming."

Then, with a sharp motion, he flung my hand away and casually picked up a bottle of liquor from the table. Twisting off the cap, he held it out to me.

"Didn't you want to drink?

"If you finish this entire bottle tonight, I'll marry you tomorrow."

The people around us began whispering. After all, everyone knew I had done plenty of foolish things just for the chance to marry Yaron.

I looked at the bottle he was offering, finding it utterly laughable.

In my past life, I had obeyed his every word without question. Marrying him had been my greatest wish, my most foolish obsession. Still, even if Yaron had a shred of humanity in him, he wouldn't have done something so heartless…

Ever since my rebirth, the memory of my past suffering lingered like a ghost, creeping up on me when I least expected it.

Fortunately, I would not be so foolish again.

With a loud crash, the bottle shattered against his head.

A collective gasp filled the room as shards of glass scattered across the floor. The sharp scent of liquor mingled with the coppery tang of blood. A thin trail of red trickled down Yaron's forehead.

A sharp scream rang out, breaking the stunned silence.

No one had expected me to smash the bottle on him.

I did not even blink. I dropped the remaining half of the shattered bottle and looked at him with utter contempt. "Who the hell wants to marry you?"

Yaron's entire body trembled slightly. His fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles cracked. His bloodshot eyes darkened, a storm of barely restrained rage brewing within.

I showed no fear. I turned and walked away without hesitation.

As I passed Bryan, I paused, curling my lips into a smirk. "Bryan, the partnership between the Lane and Stone families ends here.

"If this happens again, that bottle won't just land on his head."

Ellie, looking pale as a sheet, immediately stepped aside as though terrified I might come for her next.

…

That night, news of me smashing a bottle over Yaron's head spread like wildfire in our social circle. By the next day, my father publicly announced that the Stone family would no longer do business with the Lane family.

Suddenly, all sorts of people started cozying up to me—the wealthy heiress with a temper.

Looking at those fawning messages, I could not help but find human nature utterly hypocritical. Back then, when I was gentle and hopelessly devoted to Yaron, people saw me as easy to bully and humiliated me at every turn.

Now that I had changed, those same people suddenly wanted to be on my good side.

Time flew by, and soon, it was the day of my departure.

After half a month of preparations, everything was set. However, I unexpectedly received a call from Yaron on the night before I was supposed to leave.

His voice sounded uncharacteristically sincere over the phone. He said he wanted to have a serious talk with me.

I did not say a word. I simply hung up and continued packing my luggage.

Who would have thought that he would show up at my door less than thirty minutes later?

"Megan… we need to talk."

Yaron braced himself against the doorframe, gasping for breath as though he had rushed over in a hurry.

I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Finally, I gave in and let him enter.

His eyes flickered toward the neatly packed suitcases in the living room. His brows furrowed as he turned back to look at me with confusion.

"Where are you going?"

I did not want to waste time arguing with him, so I replied casually, "I'm moving to the south side of the city. Just say what you need to say and make it quick."

Yaron didn’t press further when he saw the impatience in my eyes.

For a moment, the living room was eerily silent.

It was a long while before he finally spoke again.

“Megan, let’s get married.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. “Did I hit your head too hard last time?”

“No!” Yaron quickly denied it, cautiously stepping closer. “Megan, you know I’ve always had a bad temper. I did a lot of things that hurt you over the years.”

He exhaled sharply, his voice laced with desperation.

“But I know I was wrong.”

His gaze softened as he took my hand gently, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I didn’t just come here to apologize. I want us to move past all of this.

“I know you love me. I know I still matter to you. So let’s stop fighting, okay? Let’s start over.”

I had no idea why Yaron was suddenly acting like this. Instinctively, I pulled my hand away and replied indifferently, “It’s fine. It’s all in the past.”

At those words, something shifted in his expression. The dull haze in his eyes lifted, replaced by a flicker of hope—burning, desperate.

“Really?” he asked eagerly.

“Megan… I knew it. I knew you loved me too much to stay mad at me.” His voice trembled slightly, thick with emotion. “I’ll treat you better. I swear… I’ll marry you.”

I had no idea what kind of show he was putting on, but my patience had completely worn thin.

So I smiled and nodded. “Let’s talk about the future later. I still have packing to do. How about you come to find me after I move to the south side?”

Yaron agreed without hesitation, glancing at my luggage before adding, “There’s nothing urgent at the company tomorrow. I’ll come over at noon to help you move.

“We can check out wedding dresses in the afternoon. I even asked a friend to design a custom wedding ring for us…”

His endless chatter was giving me a headache. I quickly cut him off. “Yaron, let’s focus on moving first.

“I’ve been busy all day. I’m exhausted.”

He hesitated for a moment, as though searching for the right words, but eventually fell silent. “Right. We have all the time in the world.”

Then, he stepped forward with quiet determination and—without warning—pulled me into his arms. His breath was warm against my neck as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Megan. I’ll never hurt you again.”

I said nothing, silently pushing him away.

As he left, he kept glancing back at me, hesitating, as if he had more to say. In the end, all he did was remind me, “Don’t overwork yourself. Wait for me tomorrow. I’ll help you move.”

I smiled and nodded, but the moment the door shut behind him, my smile disappeared entirely.

…

The next morning, I drove straight to the airport.

On the way, Yaron sent me several messages, asking if I was awake yet.

By the time I checked in my luggage and was about to board, my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen before answering.

“Megan, I’m on my way to pick you up. I even had my assistant call a moving company—”

Before he could finish, an airport announcement echoed through the terminal.

Silence filled the other end of the line. Then, his voice turned frantic, raw with panic. “Where are you going?!”

I rose from my seat and walked toward the boarding gate. “That’s none of your business.”

“Megan!”

His heart-wrenching roar rang in my ears, but I felt nothing.

My heart remained as calm as still water.

“Yaron,” I said, my voice steady, “you will always owe me in this lifetime. If you really feel sorry, then spend the rest of your days living with that guilt.”

“W-What do you mean?”

I paused, lifting my gaze to the distance.

Then, in a voice as calm as the dawn, I said, “The person who donated the kidney that saved your life back then… was me.”

On the other end, there was nothing but a long, suffocating silence.

I ended the call, deleted and blocked his new number again.

Then, without looking back, I stepped forward.

Forward, toward a better life.