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.”

A knock echoed through the Knight family’s door.

When Kirsten saw the police standing outside, her face turned pale with fear.

Had they already discovered that she had ordered someone to run Tricia down?

But to her surprise, they weren’t here for her.

“We need to see Phil.”

Phil stepped forward, immediately recognizing the man in uniform.

“Officer Blake, it’s been a long time.”

This was the same officer who had handled his mother’s case all those years ago.

Officer Blake gave him a curt nod. “Mr. Knight, it has been a while. I’m here today because I need your help with something.”

Phil frowned slightly. “What is it?”

Without a word, Officer Blake handed him a photograph.

In the image, a snowy field was speckled with blood. Etched into the snow was a string of numbers: 755143.

The moment his eyes landed on those digits, Phil froze.

Officer Blake caught the shift in his expression. “Mr. Knight, do you recognize this number?”

Phil hesitated before looking back at him, suspicion flickering in his gaze.

“This is the password for all of Tricia’s personal belongings. Why don’t you just ask her directly?”

Officer Blake’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He wanted to tell Phil the truth. But Tricia had left a final request, and he had no choice but to keep the truth from him.

“She’s… not in a position to answer my questions right now,” he said carefully. “But this number is linked to a major case. Please, Mr. Knight, tell me what 755143 really means.”

A memory surfaced in Phil’s mind—

A moment from long ago, when he had asked Tricia the very same question.

“What does 755143 mean?”

She grinned at him, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Look at the keypad. The nine-square grid. Type out your name and ‘I love you.’ PLKILY—it matches 755143. Clever, right? Only you and I will ever understand it.”

“Mr. Knight?” Officer Blake’s voice pulled him back to the present. “What does it mean?”

Phil lowered his gaze. His throat tightened as he forced out the words.

“It means… Phil, I love you.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, Officer Blake let out a quiet breath and tucked the photo away.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Knight. Goodbye.”

As he turned to leave, Phil couldn’t stop himself from calling after him.

“How… is she?”

Officer Blake paused at the threshold. His fingers twitched as he wiped the corner of his eye.

“She’s doing well.”

Then he strode away without looking back.

Phil stood motionless, unease creeping into his chest.

Officer Blake was hiding something. He was certain of it.

But what?

The officer’s visit stirred old memories, reminding him that he hadn’t visited his mother’s grave in a long time.

So, that afternoon, he bought a bouquet of fresh flowers and drove to Glenwood Cemetery.

When he arrived at her tombstone, his steps halted.

There, resting against the cold marble, was a wilted bouquet of lisianthus.

His breath caught.

He knew exactly who had placed it there.

His family always brought chrysanthemums. The only person he had ever told about his mother’s favorite flower was Tricia.

To confirm his suspicion, he went to the cemetery office and requested the latest surveillance footage.

The moment Tricia appeared on the screen, he knew.

She had been there.

Just as he was about to ask the security guard to turn it off, the footage continued—

And then, in the background, a large truck barreled straight toward her.

His stomach lurched.

“Wait,” he ordered sharply, gripping the security guard’s mouse to pause the video.

He watched as Tricia dodged the first hit.

But the truck didn’t stop.

It reversed—aiming to finish the job.

Phil’s hands curled into fists.

This wasn’t an accident. This was a premeditated attempt to kill her.

His eyes flicked to the date in the footage.

It was the same day he had thrown her out of the Knight family villa.

That same day, his sister had tried to burn Tricia alive with gasoline.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

Could this truck… could this attempted murder also be connected to his sister?