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?

Phil immediately launched an investigation.

The results came back quickly.

It really was Kirsten.

“Why did you hire someone to kill her?”

His voice was cold, sharp enough to send shivers down Kirsten’s spine.

She opened her mouth to deny it, but the moment Phil threw stacks of evidence in front of her, her prepared excuses lodged in her throat.

“She killed my mother! I wanted revenge—what’s wrong with that?!”

Fearful that he might uncover more than just this, she quickly turned defensive, trying to take moral high ground.

“Brother, why are you always protecting her? Do you still love her?”

“That’s impossible!” Phil denied it immediately.

“Then why do you care so much about her?” Kirsten pressed, unwilling to let it go.

“I don’t care about her,” he said stiffly. “I care that you’re going down the wrong path. Didn’t I already tell you—don’t get blood on your hands?”

He forced himself to suppress the storm of emotions her words had stirred.

He couldn’t still love Tricia. He couldn’t afford to love her.

It would be an insult to his mother’s memory.

“You bullied her first, then treated her like a stray dog. When that wasn’t enough, you tried to burn her alive with gasoline. And when that failed, you hired a car to kill her.”

His voice turned steely.

“Kirsten, do you really think this is the way a woman should act?”

Kirsten let out a silent breath of relief.

So he only knew this much.

Putting on a pitiful expression, she whined, “Brother, I just couldn’t stand it. How could she still be walking around, alive and well, after our mother died?”

Phil clenched his jaw.

A flash of Tricia’s bloodied lips overlapped with the memory of his mother’s lifeless body in a pool of red.

A throbbing pain pulsed through his temples.

She had killed his mother.

And yet, he still shamelessly… loved her.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to bury those feelings once and for all.

“I warned her last time. She won’t show up in front of us again.” His voice was distant.

“That’s good.” Kirsten smiled sweetly. “Brother, don’t worry, I won’t do anything like this again. You focus on your work—I’ll leave you alone now.”

Without waiting for a response, she slipped out of his studies, moving as if she were running for her life, afraid that lingering any longer would expose her further.

Phil exhaled slowly, forcing himself to shove every thought of Tricia out of his mind.

He had more important things to focus on.

But that very night, he ran into something related to her once again.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop arranging business meetings in this damn place?”

His eyes darkened as he glared at the Beehive Club’s glowing sign, directing his frustration at his assistant.

The assistant quickly bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. The venue was chosen by Mr. Mike—it was too late to change it.”

This was a crucial deal for the Knight Corporation.

Even if he hated it, he had to go in.

Yet, the moment he stepped inside, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the staff carrying trays of drinks.

Was she here?

Would he see her?

But by the time the contract was signed, Tricia never appeared.

“Excuse me.”

A few glasses of alcohol had left his mind in a haze. He stepped out, hoping the cool night air would clear his head.

And then—

Just as he turned the corner, he overheard two club waiters chatting.

“You’ve been throwing up every day. You should really get checked. Remember our old colleague? He kept ignoring it, and by the time he went to the hospital, he found out it was stomach cancer.”

“Who was it? Is he still working here?”

“Tricia something… Oh! Tricia!”

At the sound of her name, Phil froze mid-step.

Before he even realized it, his body had moved faster than his mind.

He strode up to the girl and enunciated each word carefully.

“Who did you just say has stomach cancer?”

The waitress gasped. “P-President Knight?”

She took a nervous step back, startled by the intensity in his gaze.

Quickly, she stammered, “It—it’s one of our old colleagues. Tricia.”

It was really her.

A sharp ringing filled his ears.

His voice turned hoarse. “Did Tricia tell you to say this in front of me?”

Was this her way of making him feel guilty?

Was she trying to make him… forgive her?

The two waitresses shook their heads frantically.

“No! She hasn’t worked here in a long time.”

He asked again and again, but their answers never changed.

It wasn’t a lie.

Tricia… had really been diagnosed with stomach cancer.

Phil clenched his fists and turned to his assistant.

“Go to the hospital. Find out if it’s true.”

The next day, a medical report was placed on his desk.

For a long moment, he just stared at it.

Then, finally, he reached out—

And opened it.