The intense pain made Elara gasp, but she didn't cry out, not even a flinch.

She just looked at Dante quietly.

This man who once promised to protect her from any harm, who vowed to shield her from all storms, was now roughly handling her, his anger so palpable it felt like he wished he could choke the life out of her, all for another woman's lie.

"Get out."

A tall male nurse, assigned by Julian, stepped in front of Elara like a wall.

His face was grim, muscles tense. He spoke to Dante, "This is the ICU, sir. Please show some respect. Otherwise, I'll call security to have you thrown out."

Dante froze for a moment, seemingly surprised that an outsider would dare to stop him.

He pointed at Elara, his finger trembling.

"Elara, she's your own sister! How could you be so cruel, capable of even pushing her down the stairs!"

"She fell on her own," Elara's voice was hoarse, defending herself.

She knew it was useless to explain. It always had been.

"Still lying! You're a liar!" Dante shoved his phone into Elara's face.

On the screen was a photo of Serena in her luxury hospital room, tears streaming down her face, a tiny bandage on her forehead.

The caption read: 'My heart aches from the betrayal of someone I trusted most. Why does family become a weapon?'

Elara let out a mocking laugh. "She typed a few lines, and you believed it?"

She knew explanations were futile, yet she hadn't expected him to be so biased.

Dante looked at Elara's disappointed expression, his mouth opening as if to speak.

Could this really be something more to it?

But then, his phone rang.

It was a special alert tone, Serena's personalized ringtone.

Dante glanced at it, his face instantly changing.

"Serena's having heart palpitations... Damn it."

He turned and left in a hurry, not sparing Elara another glance, not asking "Does your wound hurt?" or inquiring about who gave her the blood transfusion.

He didn't even know the blood bag that saved her wasn't from the hospital, let alone a donation from the Vane family.

He didn't know Elara had Rh-null blood.

He never cared. All he knew was her blood could save Serena, but he never thought about who would save her.

Only after his back disappeared down the corridor did Elara expressionlessly pull out the IV needle from her arm.

Blood welled up, dripping onto the white sheets like plum blossoms in the snow.

But she felt no pain.

"Miss Vane, you can't move! You just had surgery!" the nurse exclaimed, shocked.

"I want to be discharged," Elara said, pressing her wound, her gaze as firm as rock. "Help me contact the police. I need to file a report."

"A report?"

"Apply for a restraining order," Elara said coldly, a glint of ice in her eyes.

An hour later, Elara walked out of the police station.

Her phone vibrated.

It was a text from Dante.

'Stop acting out. Serena is terrified. Take a taxi home. And Elara, you owe Serena an apology. You need to make amends, or... I can't guarantee I'll be able to shield you from Father's anger. He's furious.'

Elara looked at the message, a mocking smile curling her lips.

Shield me?

He would soon find out who really needed shielding.

The call from the police station reached home before Elara did.

As she pushed open the heavy, carved oak doors of the Vane estate, she wasn't met with warm lights, but by her father's whip cracking across her face.

"Crack!"

The expensive crocodile leather belt lashed viciously across Elara's shoulder.

Blood instantly stained the bandages, soaking through the thin shirt.

"You dared to call the police?!"

"You want the whole world to laugh at the Vane family? And apply for restraining orders against Leo and me? You must be tired of living!"

Her mother sat on the leather sofa, tea in hand, watching with cold eyes.

"She's an ungrateful wretch. We should never have given birth to her!"

Serena huddled in her mother's arms, seemingly trembling, but a hint of subtle satisfaction and mockery played on her lips.

Another lash, cutting through the air.

Elara didn't dodge, didn't cry, not even a whimper.

She stood there, straight as a corpse devoid of pain, letting the belt fall.

"Speak! Admit you're wrong! Just admit it, and I'll stop!"

Her father roared, Elara's silence fueling his rage further.

"I'm not wrong."

Elara looked into his eyes. Even seeing her battered and bleeding, there wasn't a trace of fatherly love.

"You abused me, imprisoned me, exploited me, and stole my work. These are facts."

"You! Still playing tough!"

Her father’s veins bulged with anger, raising his hand to strike again.

"Enough!"

Dante finally came down from upstairs.

He rushed over, grabbing his father's wrist.

"Uncle, please, stop. You'll kill her if you keep hitting."

He turned, his gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked, swaying Elara. A heavy sigh escaped him, laden with a weariness for the situation and a flicker of pain for the girl he once knew.

"Elara, look at yourself. Just apologize, back down a little, and this can all be resolved. Why are you being so stubborn? You weren't like this before." His tone was laced with a subtle sorrow, as if remembering a gentler past.

"Apologize?" Elara looked at Dante, her eyes hollow like two black holes.

The hatred accumulated over two lifetimes reached its peak at this moment.

With her love gone, only endless disgust remained.

"Dante, you disgust me."

Dante's expression froze.

He had never heard Elara speak to him like this.

Her father seized the opportunity, broke free, and raised the belt high, this time aiming for Elara's face.

"You want to die? Ruin your face and see if you're still so stubborn! I'll grant your wish!"

Elara didn't flinch, staring directly at the belt about to fall.

"Kill me then. If you break the blood bag, Serena will die too."

The belt stopped abruptly in mid-air.

Her father's hand trembled. He was scared.

Not of Elara dying, but of losing the blood supply for his precious Serena.

The punishment didn't last.

At the crucial moment, Serena suddenly "fainted" right on cue.

The whole family's attention instantly shifted. Doctors, nurses – it was chaos.

Elara, enduring the sharp pain, retreated to her room.

She pulled out her phone. There was an unread message from an encrypted number, a set of coordinates.

"Three days from now, midnight. The last boat at Pier 24. Bring your people, the rest is on me. – J"

Three more days.

Three days, and she'd be free.

The next day, Dante arrived.

He held a gold-embossed invitation.

"Elara, good news."

He sat by the bed, reaching out to touch her hair. She turned her head, avoiding his hand.

He awkwardly withdrew his hand, holding up the card.

"The All-American Young Painters' Gold Award. The committee just notified you."

It was the highest honor in the art world, a dream for countless young artists.

In her past life, Elara had been locked up at home, "sick," missing the award ceremony. Dante had pulled strings, and the award had been passed to Serena, bringing her fame and fortune.

This time, he was telling her?

Elara’s eyes widened in disbelief as she took the invitation.

"I know you've always wanted this recognition," Dante's tone softened, like coaxing a spoiled child. "This is your chance to finally get the recognition you deserve, but you'll need to be smart about it. Just accept the award obediently, and then publicly thank Serena for her constant inspiration. Say she gave you the motivation to create. If you do that, I can guarantee you'll be safe from Uncle's anger, and I'll make sure this whole mess gets dropped. This will be our fresh start."

So that's it.

She was still meant to be a stepping stone. Just this time, from behind the scenes to the front, a public stepping stone, to gild Serena's name.

"Fine," Elara said softly, her gaze fixed on the window, her voice flat.

Dante breathed a sigh of relief, a satisfied smile spreading across his face, thinking she'd caved.

"I knew you were sensible. Darling, I love you." He stood up, straightening his suit. "After the award ceremony, we'll get married, okay? I've already picked out the date, next month."

Elara didn't reply. She turned her head, gazing at the clear blue sky outside, watching seagulls soar.

"Dante."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what color the sea is?"

"Blue, why? What's this about?"

'No,' Elara thought.

It's the color of freedom. And she would never marry him.

"It's nothing," she closed her eyes. "I need to rest now. Please leave."