I was dragged back to the abandoned warehouse near Chicago and locked inside for three whole days. I nearly thought I would die there.

By now, the visa should have been approved. Ryan’s mother had already wired one hundred million dollars into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. All I needed to do was leave Ryan, go abroad, and I could use it. I was so close to escaping this nightmare with my brother. I couldn’t die here.

On the fourth day, Sophia Reed suddenly appeared, wearing a hospital gown and carrying a metal canister. She smiled with twisted pride. “Evelyn, want to know where your brother’s kidney went?”

My teeth ground together as I glared at her. She popped open the canister, and a foul stench hit my nose—inside was shredded meat.

“My kidney is perfectly fine,” Sophia whispered in my ear, her voice as venomous as a snake. “That night at the factory, I stabbed myself and faked the injury. Your brother’s kidney? I had it ground up into pet food—for my dog. And guess what? My dog loved it.”

“You monster!” I lunged at her, but her bodyguard shoved me down.

Her face darkened, and she slapped me hard, the crisp sound echoing through the warehouse. “Ungrateful bag woman! Did you think your brother was worth anything? He was just your bargaining chip with Ryan. Now that he’s dead, you’ve got nothing!”

In my pocket, the recorder I’d secretly asked Mr. Brown to buy was still running—capturing every poisonous word.

At that moment, my phone rang. It was the hospital. I struggled to answer, and a nurse’s panicked voice cried, “Ms. Lane, your brother has a severe post-surgery infection. He’s critical! Come quickly—if you’re late, it will be—”

“Too late?” Sophia snatched the phone, laughing cruelly into the receiver. “Good! Better if he’s dead—no use wasting a hospital bed!” She hung up and smashed the phone to the ground, the screen spiderwebbed with cracks.

I shoved past the guard and ran like a madwoman to the hospital. But by the time I reached the ward, Aaron had already stopped breathing.

His eyes were still open, as if waiting for me.

The doctor said that in his final moments, he kept whispering, “Sis, don’t let them wrong you.”

“Aaron…” I collapsed over his body, tears streaming onto his cold face.

While handling his paperwork, a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. My vision blacked, and I tumbled down the stairs.

When I woke again, I was back in the hospital.

The doctor stood by my bed, his voice heavy. “Ms. Lane, you were pregnant. But from the fall, the child didn’t survive. I’m sorry… it may be difficult for you to conceive again.”

Pregnant? My hand trembled over my flat stomach, tears pouring once more.

My brother was gone. My child was gone. The last ties I had in this world—gone.

I pulled the recorder from under my pillow, replaying Sophia’s venomous laughter. Ryan’s cold face still burned in my memory.

Slowly, I sat up. The last trace of warmth in my eyes was gone.

“Ryan, Sophia,” I whispered, voice flat and cold. “Everything you owe me—I’ll take back, piece by piece.”

I called Brown. “Uncle Brown, one last favor. Help me get access to the Hayes family’s surveillance footage.”

Outside, the sky grew dark. I clutched the recorder, my nails digging into my palms.

The hospital door swung open. Ryan walked in carrying a bouquet of blood-red roses.

The overwhelming fragrance hit my nose. My throat tightened, and I coughed, hives spreading on my skin.

I was allergic to roses. Since I was fifteen, when I’d landed in the hospital after eating rose jam, I had warned him countless times. Back in our Queens apartment, he’d laughed while bundling me in blankets, saying, “I’ll never buy roses again, just to keep you safe.”

But now—he had forgotten.

Ryan shoved the roses into my arms. When I pulled back, his smile faltered.

“Evelyn, I know you’ve been upset lately, but Sophia just had a kidney transplant. She’s weak. You should give way to her. Do you remember what your mother said when she entrusted you to me? ‘Ryan, from now on, you’re the one Evelyn can rely on most.’ Tell me—which of my actions hasn’t been for your own good?”

“For my own good?” My grip on Aaron’s urn trembled. “You mean taking his kidney was for my good?”

Ryan frowned. “Why bring that up again? Sophia was the victim. Aaron’s medical bills depended on the Hayes family. If you keep this up, I’ll stop his treatment right now. Do you want him dead?”

He didn’t even know Aaron was already gone—dead the very day Ryan “sought justice” for Sophia.

Looking at his self-righteous face, the itching in my throat turned to stabbing pain.

I hugged the urn tighter. “Fine. I won’t argue.”

Thinking I’d yielded, Ryan’s expression softened. He patted the sofa beside him. “That’s better. Tomorrow there’s an auction at the New York Art Center. Come with me, clear your mind. We’ll pick some jewelry for Sophia. Get along with her.”

I said nothing. My eyes drifted to the suitcase in the corner. After the auction, I would leave for good.

At the auction, Ryan escorted Sophia ahead of me. She wore a champagne-colored gown, glancing back with mocking eyes, while I trailed like a shadow.

As Ryan bid on one extravagant piece after another for Sophia, I felt nothing anymore.

“The next item: the final work of the late painter Edward Lane, Spring Rain Returns, starting bid: fifty thousand.”

The canvas unfurled—stone paths, paper umbrellas, the misty Pacific Northwest rain, every stroke delicate enough to reveal the bamboo ribs of the umbrella.

It was my father’s painting.

Years ago, when Ryan was amnesiac and hunted by enemies, I had no choice but to sell this piece for his medical bills. Crying, I told him, “One day, we must buy it back.” He had held me then, wiping my tears with his knuckles, and promised, “I’ll remember, Evelyn. I’ll bring it back for you.”

“Fifty thousand.” I raised my paddle, my voice trembling.

Sophia’s face darkened. She whispered something into Ryan’s ear, then raised her paddle. “Eighty thousand.”

“This painting means everything to me,” I pleaded softly. But the hundred million in my offshore account was inaccessible, and even if it weren’t, Ryan would block me.

Sophia only smirked, tracing Ryan’s arm with her finger. “Evelyn, it’s an auction. Compete fairly. Ryan said if I want it, he’ll give it to me.”

“One hundred thousand,” I bid again.

“One hundred fifty thousand,” Sophia countered, leaning closer to Ryan. “Ryan, I love this painting too. Won’t you buy it for me?”

Ryan’s gaze lingered on the painting, then on me. For a fleeting second, his eyes wavered, perhaps recalling his promise.

But seconds later, he raised his paddle firmly. “Two hundred thousand.”

A fragile hope flickered in my heart—maybe he hadn’t forgotten.

But then, taking the painting from the staff, Ryan turned and shoved it into Sophia’s arms. “Here, Sophia. It’s yours.”

Sophia’s face lit up. Hugging the canvas, she suddenly smirked at me. In front of everyone, she stumbled against me, gripped both edges of the painting, and ripped it in two.

The sound tore through me.

“Oh no,” she feigned panic, tears brimming. “Evelyn, I didn’t mean to!”

“Sophia!” I lunged, but Ryan yanked me back, his grip bruising my wrist. His eyes burned with anger. “Enough! It’s just a painting! If it’s ruined, I’ll buy another! Stop scaring Sophia!”

“That was my father’s last work! I sold it to save you!” My tears splashed onto his hand. “You promised me—you said you’d bring it back!”

“I’ve made countless promises. How could I remember them all?” Ryan flung me aside, and I stumbled into a display stand. A vase toppled, shattering, shards slicing my ankle.

Before I could steady myself, his palm cracked across my face.

I pressed my burning cheek, staring at his frozen hand and Sophia’s smug smile.

And I laughed.

By the end of the auction, whatever last hope I had for Ryan shattered like that painting.

Back at the mansion, I pulled out the recorder, the DNA report from the pet food, and the surveillance footage Brown had secured. I mailed everything to my lawyer.

Then, I dialed Mr. Warren, Ryan’s rival.

“Mr. Warren,” my voice was calm, stripped of all emotion. “I’d like to make a deal with you. I believe you’ll be interested.”

Hanging up, I held Aaron’s urn and headed for the airport.

As the car left the city, I glanced back once at the glowing skyline.

My phone buzzed. Ryan’s name flashed on the screen.

I switched it off and tossed it into a roadside trash bin.

Aaron, we’re going home.

As for Ryan and Sophia—what they owe us, I’ll make them pay back with interest.