On the day Ylona was diagnosed with cancer, her husband Cyrus' precious "canary"—Rylee—went missing.

All evidence pointed to one culprit: Ylona.

That night, Cyrus took their child, Cedric, hostage—threatening to trade his own son's life for the whereabouts of his mistress.

Not far away, a timer on the bomb strapped to Cedric's tiny body ticked ominously.

“Ylona, if you don't want Cedric to die, hand over Rylee. Your son's life is in your hands.” Cyrus' voice was cold as ice as he spoke.

Trembling, Ylona fell to her knees. “I swear, I didn't take her! Cedric is your son—our son—the most important person in our lives! How can you do this to him?”

But Cyrus didn't believe her. To force a confession, he even reset the bomb's timer—giving her just ten minutes.

Time slipped away like sand through her fingers. No matter how desperately she begged, he remained unmoved, his words cutting like a blade.

“Since you took Rylee from me—I'll take your son.”

Ylona felt as if she'd plunged into an endless frozen abyss.

At the last moment, Cyrus was called away by a phone call. The bomb on Cedric's body continued its relentless countdown, buzzing in the stillness.

Without wasting another second, Ylona dashed forward like a madwoman, trying to dismantle it.

But she was still too late.

Cedric died in front of her, and the world before her turned blood red.

Ylona collapsed in that warehouse, crying through the night until the next day. Her phone rang endlessly before she finally picked up.

“Grandpa... you asked me before to return and take back the family inheritance. I agree.”

...

Her grandfather was stunned. He had thought she'd refuse again like she always did.

“Ylona, what made you change your mind so suddenly? Did something happen?” he asked worriedly.

Taking a deep breath, Ylona clenched her fist to keep herself steady. He was old, and she didn't want him to worry.

“No. I just... finally realized some things.”

There were hearts so cold that no amount of love could ever thaw them, no matter how much you gave.

Hearing her response, her grandfather sounded relieved. “Good. I'm not in the country right now, but I'll send someone to pick you up by the end of the month. Oh, by the way—I've been searching for a suitable husband for you. There's someone from a powerful family in California—Devin Morisson. I'll introduce you when you return.”

Ylona gave a bitter smile.

Her days were numbered. With late-stage cancer, remarriage was nothing but a fantasy. But she didn't want to disappoint her grandfather, so she agreed gently, “Alright. I'll do as you say.”

After ending the call, Ylona knelt and began quietly sorting through Cedric's belongings. She made an appointment with the crematorium.

Once everything was in place, she visited a lawyer and returned home with divorce papers.

Her husband had cheated. Their child was dead. There was nothing left tying her to this house.

But when she stepped into the villa, she heard a child's voice—one that made her eyes widen in shock.

She and Cyrus had once had another son—Arden—who had died in a car accident years ago. But the voice in the villa sounded exactly like him.

Heart pounding, Ylona rushed inside, her eyes red.

“Arden... is that you?”

A little boy stepped out, frowning.

“What an ugly auntie! You scared me!”

Ylona looked gaunt, haunted by grief and fatigue. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, and her face was haggard and hollow.

The boy's voice mirrored Arden's, but his face was completely different. Yet his features bore an uncanny resemblance to Cyrus.

She stared at him and asked, “Who are you?”

The boy raised his chin arrogantly.

“This is my home. My dad is Cyrus, and my mom is Rylee. You must be the homewrecker she told me about—Ylona.”

Ylona's blood ran cold. So they already had a child together. No wonder Cyrus hadn't cared whether Cedric lived or died.

He had even told the child that she was the mistress.

The boy shoved her aside and ran out. Ylona, drained and trembling, dragged herself upstairs with the divorce papers in hand—only to hear voices behind the door.

Cyrus and Rylee.

“Cyrus, I don't think it's a good idea for Miko to move in just yet. After all, his heart came from Arden. People say mothers can sense these things. What if your wife finds out?”

Cyrus sneered.

“What's there to be afraid of? Arden has been dead for years. No one knows the truth that it wasn't a car crash.”

“Besides, Arden was my son too. I was devastated when he died. But Miko is our treasure. Even if I had to give up Arden, I'd do it all over again to save him.”

“Rylee, you and Miko are the people I love most in this world. I won't let anything happen to you—and I'll never let anyone hurt you.”

As the man made his heartfelt vows to Rylee, Ylona felt sick to her stomach. Gagging, she fled to the garden, covering her mouth to keep from retching.

Cyrus' words rang in her ears like a broken record.

So it wasn't a car accident that killed Arden.

Her son had died so that Cyrus' mistress's child could live.

Ylona had been deceived for years. And the one behind it all... was the very man she had loved with all her heart—her husband, Cyrus.

What she couldn’t understand was: of all the women in the world, why did it have to be Rylee?

He knew she despised that woman.

Years ago, Rylee’s mother—once the daughter of New York’s wealthiest family—had married Ylona’s father under the guise of hiding her identity. Her grandfather had strongly opposed the marriage, insisting the union was beneath their family’s status. But her mother believed love could conquer all.

Then, when Ylona was just three years old, her father had an affair.

The mistress was Rylee’s mother.

The heartbreak drove Ylona’s mother to an early death.

And now—history had repeated itself. Her husband had an affair with that woman’s daughter.

Because of them, both of Ylona’s sons were dead.

Yet she could still hear his old vows ringing in her ears:

"Ylona, I’ll love only you for the rest of my life. We’ll grow old together."

"All men may cheat—but not me. For you and our children, I’d give up my life."

How laughable. A man’s promise only matters when he’s in love.

Ylona clutched her chest, gasping for air, her nails digging into her palms.

If they could be this ruthless, then she would be merciless in return.

She took out her phone and dialed a private investigator.

“I want you to find evidence that my husband illegally stole someone’s heart five years ago."

"And I want everything you can get on his affair.”

Just as the words left Ylona's mouth, a familiar voice rang out behind her.

“What evidence? What are you doing?”

It was Cyrus.

Ylona quickly suppressed her emotions and turned around, her tone was calm and indifferent as she replied, “Nothing. You must've misheard.”

In the past, Cyrus would've questioned her thoroughly. But now, his heart was entirely with Rylee—he didn't care what Ylona was doing anymore.

He glanced around the room, frowning.

“Where's Cedric? You two have been fighting for over a day—haven't you had enough?”

Ylona lifted her eyes and stared at him, trying to understand what his heart was made of—how it could be so cold.

This man had strapped a bomb to his own son, just to protect his mistress. And now he dared to call it “just a fight”?

Her lips parted. She wanted to tell him the truth—that Cedric was dead. That the bomb he had placed had taken their child's life.

But before she could speak, Rylee walked up from behind and naturally wrapped her arm around Cyrus'.

She clung to him, putting on a frightened act.

“Cyrus, I get so scared when I see my sister now... what if she tries to send me away again?”

Instantly, Cyrus' face darkened.

“Ylona, apologize to Rylee, and promise you'll never pull something like that again.”

Beside him, Rylee smirked at Ylona with a smug look of triumph.

Ylona clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. She knew this was all part of Rylee's scheme.

She looked Cyrus straight in the eye and said coldly, “I didn't do it, so why should I apologize?”

Apologize to the woman who ruined her marriage and destroyed her family?

Never.

Rylee shrank back behind Cyrus, pretending to be weak and gentle.

“Let it go, Cyrus. Whatever my sister says, let's just go along with it. After all, we're family.”

“She might be cruel to me, but I can't be heartless to my own sister.”

Cyrus gazed at her tenderly, as if her false compassion moved him.

“Don't worry, Rylee. From now on, no one will ever bully you—not even Ylona.”

For a moment, Ylona could hear echoes of the promises he used to make to her.

“Ylona, marry me. I'll never let anyone hurt you.”

And yet now, that same man stood with another woman—mocking and humiliating her, the mother of his children.

Her knees weakened beneath her, and she nearly collapsed.

Just then, a child's voice called from inside the house.

“Daddy! Come play toys with me!”

Cyrus' gaze softened. He whispered something to Rylee and went inside with a smile.

Ylona let out a bitter laugh.

How ironic.

When Cedric was alive, he would often ask his father to play with him too. But every time, Cyrus would reply coldly, “Daddy is busy. I don't have time.”

Yet now, he was full of patience for the child of his mistress.

After Cyrus disappeared into the house, Rylee finally dropped the act.

Her lips curved into a mocking grin, and she taunted, “I told you—whatever I set my sights on becomes mine. No one can take it from me.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she nonchalantly continued, “Honestly, I didn't expect much. I just played a little trick and went on a trip... and Cyrus actually ended up tying a bomb to your child.”

She stepped forward, grabbed Ylona by the hair, and forced her to look into the window—at the warm family scene inside.

“See that? Cyrus only cares about us. You're the real mistress in this relationship.”

She tightened her grip and sneered. “He loves me that much—and you're still clinging to him like a dog. Aren't you ashamed?”

Ylona's eyes blazed with fury. “Ashamed? The one who should be ashamed is you. You and your mother really are cut from the same cloth—professional homewreckers.”

Rylee's expression froze. But then she laughed coldly.

“Fine, say you're not the mistress. So what? You still couldn't even protect your own child.”

“I heard it was a sea of red when your son died. You watched him die right in front of you. Tell me, how did that feel?”

Ylona snapped.

They could insult her all they want, but never ever her child.

She raised her hand to slap her—but before she could bring it down, Rylee scoffed victoriously. Then Cyrus stormed back in, grabbing Ylona's wrist and shoving her hard.

“Ylona! How dare you lay a hand on Rylee in front of me!”

Ylona was slammed hard to the floor, her elbow scraping against shattered glass. Pain seared through her arm, and her brows knit tightly together.

A cold laugh echoed in her chest.

Rylee had a venomous tongue—and the moment Ylona tried to fight back, Cyrus rushed to her defense without hesitation.

Yet when their son was crying and begging for help with a bomb strapped to his body, that same man didn't lift a finger.

Now, he stood above her, looking down with icy disdain. “I was going to let you go. But since you don't know your place, it's time you learned a lesson.”

“Maybe next time you'll think twice before bullying Rylee.”

Ylona let out a sharp, mocking laugh and met his gaze.“What exactly did I do to her?”

Since childhood, Rylee had always been the best at playing the victim—always pretending to be weak and innocent after provoking others first.

Yet her father and Cyrus fell for the act every single time.

Ignoring Ylona's explanation, Cyrus barked at the servants, “Lock her in the basement. Don't let her come out unless I say so.”

And just like that, she was imprisoned—for three days.

No matter how she screamed or cried, no one came. Once a day, they would slide in a plate of stale food at night.

She knew this was Rylee's doing—and Cyrus was letting her get away with it.

On the third day, her phone rang endlessly—dozens of calls, all from the crematorium.

But the basement had poor reception. Even when she answered, they couldn't hear her voice.

One message after another came in.

[Miss Alvarez, your son Cedric is scheduled for cremation soon. Please come to the crematorium to send him off.]

[Two hours left until the scheduled time...]

[One hour remaining.]

Ylona went mad, pounding on the door, screaming until her voice was hoarse.

“Cyrus! isn’t this what you wanted? To crush my pride and force me to bow? Fine. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please... just let me out!”

She cried for an hour straight, but no one answered. Not even the servants.

She tried to send out a message for help, but the signal was too weak. Nothing went through.

An our later, one final message arrived.

[Miss Alvarez, your child's cremation is complete. Please come to retrieve the ashes.]

Each notification shattered something inside her. Her heart went numb.

Staring at the photos of Cedric and Arden on her phone, the dam finally broke. Tears flooded her cheeks.

She could still hear Cyrus' voice from the past, full of tenderness and promises.

“Ylona, we're a family—a family of four. I'll always be your rock and our children's protector.”

Ylona let out a hollow, bitter laugh as she shook her head.

“Cyrus... the children are gone. So is the love. Everything we once had is gone.”

The emotional toll was too much. She fainted, collapsing in the basement. It wasn't until a servant came to deliver food that she was discovered and finally released.

As the evening set in, Ylona woke up. Realizing she was free, she didn't even stop to put on shoes—she ran barefoot to the crematorium.

—

Meanwhile, Cyrus had just returned home. When he heard she had fainted, a flicker of concern flitted through his eyes. He went to check on her only to find her room empty.

“Hah. I knew it. There's no way someone as healthy as her would just faint. It was all just another act,” he snickered.

Beside him, Rylee stoked the flames. “Ylona has always been good at pretending. It's no surprise she fooled the servants too.”

“But she's already been locked up for three days. That's enough. After all, she's still my sister. Even if she wronged me, I won't hold it against her.”

Compared to Rylee's kindness, Ylona seemed more and more unreasonable in Cyrus' eyes.

But then, at around eleven that night—Ylona returned.

Barefoot, with her hair in disarray, she held a small urn in her arms as she walked back into the villa.

Cyrus was downstairs working. The moment he saw her, something stirred in his chest—but it quickly turned to irritation.

“So you pretended to faint just to sneak out and grab a box of ashes?”

“You really are that vicious—just waiting for something bad to happen to Rylee, aren't you?”

Ylona's mind was buzzing. She couldn't help but laugh.

He hadn't even asked whose ashes she was holding—he simply condemned her on the spot.

Even if she told him it was their child—that Cedric's ashes were inside this very urn—he wouldn't believe her.

She was tired.

All she wanted now was to wait for the right moment, take her child, and leave this man forever.

She said nothing and turned to head upstairs.

Cyrus frowned and stepped in front of her.

“There's an auction in Los Angeles tomorrow. You're coming with me.”

Once, Ylona would've been happy to attend those events with him. It was his way of showing her off, of proving she mattered.

But now?

She no longer wanted anything to do with him.

“I'm not going.” Her voice was quiet and drained.

Cyrus' expression instantly darkened. He grabbed her wrist tightly and threatened, “If you don't go, I'll throw that urn away.”