Tricia had no time to respond. She bent over, coughing violently, her knuckles pressing against her trembling lips. The flour they had stuffed into her mouth earlier irritated her throat, triggering a deep, gut-wrenching retch. A moment later, she spat out a mouthful of blood.

Phil’s breath caught. His curse froze in his throat as his gaze fell on the blood-streaked powder pooling on the ground.

His fists clenched, his eyes clouded with a storm of emotions—disgust, resentment, and frustration at his own weakness.

But in the end, all he did was sneer coldly. “Don’t act pitiful. Just because you saved me doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you. If anything happens to my sister, you can bet I’ll kill you myself.”

Tricia wiped the blood from her lips and looked at the garden, now in ruins after the explosion. Her lips curled into a bitter smile. “Just now, your sister nearly killed both you and me.”

Phil’s expression darkened. “Kirsten is still young. She got carried away playing a prank. I’ll deal with her. But you…” His voice sharpened, dripping with contempt. “A vile, disgusting creature like you has no right to judge her. You’re nothing but a maggot crawling in the gutter.”

A maggot in the gutter.

Tricia’s body stiffened, a tremor running through her limbs.

She never thought the day would come when Phil would use such cruel words to describe her.

And yet, in his eyes, Kirsten’s actions—attempting to take their lives—were nothing more than a childish prank.

She looked up at him, her gaze unreadable.

For a brief moment, Phil felt an ache in his chest.

Why?

Why did this woman still have the power to affect him after all these years?

The sight of her vomiting blood had triggered something deep inside him—an instinct, a moment of worry. His first thought had been to take her to a hospital.

But then, he forced himself to remember.

This wasn’t the Tricia he had once loved.

She was his mother’s murderer.

A disgrace addicted to drugs.

There could be no connection between them anymore.

His expression hardened as he met her eyes, his tone cutting like a blade. “From now on, stay out of my sight. Stay away from Kirsten. If I see you again, I’ll make sure there’s no trace left of you.”

Tricia didn’t flinch.

She simply nodded, turned around, and limped away.

She couldn’t fall here.

She wouldn’t let Phil find out she had stomach cancer.

—

Meanwhile, Kirsten had been trembling with fear ever since learning that Phil had been in the garden.

Panic-stricken, she ran to him. The moment she saw him standing there unharmed, she threw herself into his arms and burst into tears.

“Brother, I was so scared! I thought something had happened to you!”

Phil’s jaw tightened. He pushed her away. “If something had happened to me, it would have been your fault.”

His tone was cold.

His disappointment was unmistakable.

Ever since their mother’s death, he and their father had spoiled Kirsten, shielding her from harm. He had never expected that his seemingly well-behaved, sensible sister would go so far as to try to kill someone.

No one else could have set up that gasoline trap.

Only Kirsten had unrestricted access to the garden.

Kirsten’s face paled as she realized the weight of his words. Desperation flashed in her eyes. “Brother, I was wrong! I won’t do it again, I swear! I was just… I was too angry. I wanted her to pay for what she did to Mom.” She quickly pulled their mother’s memory into the conversation, hoping it would soften his heart.

And it did.

Phil’s rigid expression eased ever so slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean you should stain your hands with blood,” he said, his voice calmer now. “You are a daughter of the Knight family. There’s no need for you to resort to such things.”

Kirsten nodded obediently, but as she glanced around, her brow furrowed.

“Brother, where’s Tricia?”

Phil’s voice was devoid of emotion. “I let her go. Don’t trouble her anymore.”

Kirsten’s eyes widened in shock.

“Brother, how can you just let her go?”

Her voice was sharp with disbelief. “Don’t forget, she killed our mother! She’s our mother’s murderer! If you still have feelings for her, can you even call yourself worthy of Mom?”

Phil’s entire body tensed.

His hands curled into fists.

He had convinced himself that he only hated Tricia now.

But Kirsten’s words hit him like a slap, leaving him cold with realization.

Why had he felt anger when he saw her being bullied?

Why had he felt panic when he saw her coughing up blood?

Why did he still care?

Because, deep down, despite everything…

He still loved her.

But she was the woman who had killed her mother.

How could he ever forgive that?

His face remained expressionless, but his heart pounded in his chest. He forced his voice to remain steady as he said, “Don’t talk nonsense. I only let her go because I don’t want you getting hurt. Tricia is a nobody now—she’s been to prison, she has no future. But you… you have a bright one ahead of you.”

Kirsten let out a breath of relief.

She had been afraid that Phil still had feelings for Tricia.

But she wouldn’t listen to his command.

She wouldn’t leave Tricia alone.

Because there was something much bigger at stake.

Her secret could never be exposed.

And as long as Tricia was alive…

That secret was in danger.

She had to get rid of her.

After sending his sister away, Phil stood in the wreckage of the garden, staring at the charred remains of roses. His mind drifted back to memories of Tricia.

Years ago, they planted this rose garden together.

They had even buried a bottle of daughter’s red wine beneath the soil, a batch they had brewed themselves.

"Brother Phil, when we have a child in the future, let’s dig it up when they turn eighteen and celebrate their adulthood together."

"What do you think we should name our children if we have them?"

"How about Allan for a boy and Aileen for a girl?"

"Who do you think they’ll take after? I think, no matter what, they’ll be beautiful—just like you."

Even after all these years, her voice was still vivid in his mind.

They could have had so many beautiful futures.

Now, none of them will ever come true.

For years, he had lied to himself, keeping this rose garden as if preserving it would somehow preserve the past. As if it would stop time from pulling them further apart.

Now, it is gone.

Perhaps it was for the best.

They could never go back.

Phil turned and walked away.

Back in his studies, he powered on his computer and systematically erased every file, every photo, every trace of Tricia.

Then, he opened his desk drawer, where he had hidden all the gifts she had given him over the years. One by one, he tossed them into the trash.

He was determined to wipe her from his life completely.

Until he reached the last item.

A diamond ring.

Phil froze.

This was the engagement ring he had designed himself, painstakingly carved by a master jeweler.

For a long moment, he simply stared at it.

Then, with a deep breath, he walked to the artificial lake beside the villa and, without hesitation, threw it in.

The water rippled, swallowing her last piece.

"Tricia, from now on, we are nothing to each other."

From this moment forward, they were strangers.

—

Tricia staggered out of the Knight family’s villa, her steps unsteady.

She didn’t return to the club.

Instead, she went to the cemetery in Glenwood.

She had no family, no one to turn to.

After some thought, the only person she could confide in was Phil’s mother.

Standing before the tombstone, she placed a bouquet of fresh flowers down and ran her fingers lightly over the engraved portrait. The woman in the photo was smiling gently.

Tricia let out a shaky breath and whispered, “Aunt Kara, when I die, we’ll be neighbors.”

She laughed softly, though it was tinged with sorrow.

“I don’t know if you’d be angry or happy to have me here with you.”

“But… I hope you’ll be happier.”

She spoke for a long time, pouring out everything she had kept bottled inside.

By the time she left, the sky had turned an ominous shade of gray.

Twilight settled over the winding mountain road.

There were no taxis.

No people.

She had no choice but to walk.

Then, suddenly—

A heavy truck roared from behind, its headlights blinding.

Before her mind could register the danger, her body reacted on instinct.

She dove to the side, rolling into the drainage ditch just beyond the guardrail. The rush of wind from the passing truck whipped against her skin, and the impact sent her tumbling onto a pile of jagged gravel.

Pain exploded in her lower back.

Tricia gritted her teeth, forcing herself to move.

With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the truck’s license plate, and sent it to Officer Blake.

The moment she hit send, the sharp screech of tires cutting against asphalt split the air.

Her heart dropped.

The truck was reversing.

A chill ran down her spine.

If it succeeded, she would be crushed beneath its wheels.

Someone wanted her dead.

She didn’t have time to think about who.

Acting fast, she raised her phone to her ear and called out in a clear, strong voice, “Uncle Police, are you picking me up at the foot of the mountain? Okay! Come quickly! I was in a car accident!”

The driver hesitated.

If the police were already nearby, he couldn’t afford to linger.

A second later, the truck jerked forward, its engine roaring as it sped away.

Tricia exhaled in relief.

Her body went limp.

Darkness swallowed her.

When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed.

The first thing she saw was Officer Blake, his face filled with worry.

“You haven’t been exposed, have you? Why would someone try to kill you?”

Tricia’s breath hitched.

Only one name came to mind.

Kirsten.

But if she implicated Kirsten, it would bring back the murder case from years ago.

And when that happened, Phil’s true identity would also be exposed.

Everything she had worked to conceal all these years would be for nothing.

Tricia lowered her gaze, her voice calm and detached. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just a coincidence. You know how those big trucks are—they have high insurance payouts. If they kill someone, they can claim insurance. But if the person survives, they have to pay out of pocket.”

Officer Blake considered this and nodded. “That’s possible.” He sighed and advised her to take care of her injuries.

“It’s just a scratch,” Tricia said, shaking her head. “Nothing serious. I’ll be back at the club tonight.”

She didn’t know how much time she had left.

But however long that was, she intended to make use of it.

That night, she took her medical records to Mike, explaining why she had failed her task earlier.

“Manager Mike, I have stomach cancer. I won’t live much longer. I just want to save enough to buy myself a decent burial plot. If there’s any way to make quick money, please help me.”

Mike called the hospital to confirm her diagnosis. Then he decided to keep her.

A woman fresh out of prison, riddled with a terminal illness—what a waste it would be not to use her.

People like her were the easiest to control.

So he gave Tricia a small job.

With Officer Blake’s help, she completed it flawlessly.

Her efficiency earned Mike’s trust.

Finally, the day arrived for their most important operation.

This time, the deal would take place at the extravagant wedding of a wealthy heir in the neighboring city.

The event required an enormous shipment of flowers. The drugs would be hidden among them.

Even the elusive drug lord himself was expected to make an appearance.

Tricia passed the intel to Officer Blake, coordinating the plan to take them down in one decisive strike.

But she never expected to see Phil there.

“Tricia,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Didn’t I tell you never to show your face in front of me again?”

He hadn’t expected to run into her—not here, not now.

Tricia’s heart clenched.

She had to get him out of here. If anything went wrong, Phil would be caught in the crossfire.

“I needed money,” she said, feigning indifference. “A sponsor paid me to attend this wedding. It has nothing to do with you. If you hate me so much, then leave. That way, you won’t have to see someone as ‘vicious and disgusting’ as me.”

She deliberately provoked him.

“Or,” she sneered, “do you secretly miss me? Following me everywhere I go?”

Phil’s face darkened. “Tricia, don’t flatter yourself. Just looking at you makes me sick. If I’d known you’d be here, I wouldn’t have set foot in Seattle.”

With that, he threw his gift aside and turned to leave.

Tricia exhaled in relief.

But deep inside, her chest ached.

If this was their last meeting, would it really have to end like this?

Not a single kind word.

Not even one good memory to hold onto.

Then, chaos erupted.

Sirens wailed.

A swarm of police officers stormed the wedding venue.

Panic spread like wildfire.

“Why are the cops here?!” someone shouted.

Mike bolted.

Tricia chased after him, trying to hold him down before he could escape.

“You damn bitch,” he spat, kicking her viciously. “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

She refused to let go.

Mike’s face twisted in fury. He turned to his men and barked, “Kill her. We’re not getting out of here anyway—we might as well take her down with us.”

A group of thugs surged forward, their faces twisted with rage.

Everything at the wedding—tables, cutlery, bottles—became their weapons.

A knife and fork pierced through Tricia’s hand. A lit cigarette seared into her back. A wine bottle shattered against her ribs.

Pain swallowed her whole.

But she didn’t beg for mercy.

She had expected this.

She had always known this day would come.

The only regret—

Her last words to Phil had been so cruel.

She wished she could take them back.

She didn’t know how long it lasted.

At some point, snow began to fall.

Tiny flakes, fine as salt, drifted down from the sky.

A thin layer of frost settled on her lashes.

Phil’s face flickered through her fading consciousness.

With the last of her strength, she traced a string of numbers into the snow.

Before everything went black, she heard the police rushing in—

Heard Officer Blake’s voice, shouting for her to hold on.

Her lips trembled, forming the final words of her life:

“Don’t… tell Phil.”