I woke up to the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant.

The light above my head was so blinding I could barely open my eyes. Voices drifted in and out through the haze.

"Miss Meyer really had a stroke of bad luck this time," the doctor sighed, a trace of pity in his tone. "Those kidnappers were after the jewelry you bought at that charity auction."

"Idiots," Jeydon's voice cut through the air—cold, arrogant, heartless. "That necklace was for Krisha. How could it possibly be in Cheska's possession?"

My vision swam. So the reason I was kidnapped... was because Jeydon flaunted his love for Krisha.

Hot tears pricked my eyes. I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to stay awake, to stay conscious.

"She was just caught in the crossfire," Jeydon said lazily, as if he were discussing the weather. "But she did break Krisha's legs first and tried to run her over. Let's call it even."

My whole body went rigid.

Even now he could speak of my pain so casually?

The doctor hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. After a moment, he changed the subject.

"When will her parents arrive? She needs surgery as soon as possible."

"They're on their way," Jeydon replied coolly. Then his next words sent ice through my veins.

"While she's under anesthesia... sterilize her."

The doctor froze.

"What?" His voice rose sharply. "Are you insane?"

"Why make such a fuss?" Jeydon sounded annoyed. "Only Krisha is worthy of bearing my child."

"I've already sacrificed my true love to marry Cheska. Isn't that enough? What, does she actually think she deserves to carry my child too?"

And as if that weren't enough, he added, almost cheerfully, "Besides, when Krisha gives birth, the child will be registered under Cheska's name. She can be a mother without ever having to give birth herself. Isn't that a blessing?"

Monster!

My chest trembled violently, rage boiling up until I could barely breathe.

This... this was the man I had loved for twelve years? The man who caused my kidnapping and injuries... now wanted to treat me like a stray animal, casually ordering my sterilization!

"Stop arguing," Jeydon snapped as the doctor tried to refuse. "Her parents will be here any moment. Go prepare the operating room."

Their footsteps faded down the hall.

I forced myself upright, pain splitting through my skull. I ripped the IV needle from my hand and clenched my jaw until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I couldn't stay here.

The entire floor had been cleared, it was empty. I leaned against the wall, inch by inch, each step soaking my hospital gown in cold sweat.

Then, through the elevator doors, I saw two familiar figures. My knees went weak. Tears blurred my vision.

"Dad... Mom..."

They rushed forward, catching me before I could fall. My mother's tears splashed onto my cheeks, burning hot.

"Cheska, my baby, what did they do to you?"

Choking back the sob in my throat, I whispered hoarsely, "We have to go now."

Without another word, my father scooped me into his arms and ran.

Only when we were in the car did I realize how drenched I was—my hospital gown clinging to me, the pain from my wounds flaring with every breath.

Outside the window, the world blurred into streaks of light and motion. I caught a glimpse of the date on the dashboard—three days had passed.

Three days...

I'd been held captive for three days, and while I suffered in some dark, filthy room, Jeydon had been planning how to rob me of my right to become a mother.

My parents took me to another hospital. I lay on the new bed, watching the IV drip fall one slow drop at a time.

Calmly, I told them everything—every word I'd overheard, every cruel thing Jeydon had said.

My father exploded with fury, wanting to confront him immediately. But I grabbed his wrist and shook my head.

"If you go now, we'll only lose more. Please, just wait. Let me recover first."

Just four more days.

Four days from now... I will make Jeydon watch as everything he loved turned to ashes.

I woke from a nightmare with my hospital gown damp against my skin.

The ward was so quiet the monitor's beep was the only sound. My mother sat hunched at the bedside, dark bruises shadowing under her eyes.

"My daughter needs to rest. Mr. Crawford, it's not appropriate for you to visit now." My father's voice came from the doorway—firm, uncompromising.

Jeydon had found me.

Of course he had. In Seattle, there was no one Jeydon couldn't find.

"Uncle Simon, I only wanted to see her," his voice sounded concerned—low, soft, gentle—the same voice that had ordered a man to sterilize me like an animal.

"My daughter needs to rest. Mr. Crawford, it's not appropriate for you to visit now."

By evening, my parents' phones began to ring one after another. They exchanged a look, grabbed their coats, and my mother said, "Cheska, we have to go to the office. Rest for now. I'll have a caregiver watch you."

As soon as they left, the ward door opened quietly. I didn't want to see Jeydon's face, so I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

"Don't pretend." A syrupy, sweet voice slipped into my ear and I snapped my eyes open.

Krisha sat smiling like a painted flower. "I knew you were awake." She rolled her wheelchair closer. "You refused to see Jeydon, so I gave him an idea. If your company hits a snag... your parents will have other things to worry about."

Her perfume was cloying enough to make me nauseous. "Their love for you is kinda overrated," she taunted.

"I told you not to speak of my parents again." I stared at her coldly. "Clearly last time's lesson didn't stick."

"Oh—you're already angry?" She clutched her chest melodramatically. "Don't be impatient. It's not over yet."

Suddenly she slapped her own cheeks twice. "Miss Meyer, I truly was wrong!" She wiped at her eyes and slid from the wheelchair to kneel beside the bed. "Please, forgive me..."

Immediately, the ward door was flung open. Jeydon saw the scene at once.

"Cheska!" He hauled Krisha to her feet and turned on me with fury. "What have you done now?"

I only felt a wave of powerlessness, 'I'm already like this, what else can I do?'

Jeydon choked on his words. "You're injured, yet you still make trouble for Krisha—"

His words trailed off mid-sentence. He inhaled slowly, then pushed Krisha out of the room. When he returned, he sat by my bed and let his fingers brush my cheek as if comforting a child. "Your complexion looks even worse," he murmured. "Come home with me."

I watched him without expression.

He sighed and softened his tone even more. "It's my fault you've suffered so much." He gripped my hand. "Don't worry. I'll make it right."

He went on, voice wrapped in honey. "I've arranged the best surgeon. He will perform a small surgery on you, and your injuries will recover quickly without leaving any marks."

My heart dropped. He had not abandoned his plan. The word "operation" rang in my ears like a bell.

I pushed myself up on trembling arms. "Jeydon."

"I'm here."

The next instant, I grabbed the glass vase on the bedside cabinet and hurled it at him.

The vase shattered against his temple. Blood trickled down his brow. I smiled, and said each word like a verdict. "You can do the surgery yourself!"

That night, my parents took me home.

When the house fell silent, I went to the bookshelf and pulled down twelve photo albums.

Jeydon and I had grown up together.

I used to cheer for him at every basketball game, vote for him in every debate competition, and even learned photography just to capture every radiant moment of his youth.

He never lacked admirers, but after every game, he would only take the bottle of water I offered. After every victory, he only accepted the bouquet from my hands. And the photos he shared online—every single one was taken by me.

Back then, I believed I was capturing love through my lens.

Now I realized, I was only doing what a well-trained maid might do for her master.

I gathered all those photos and the engagement tokens his family had given, packed them carefully, and decided to return them myself the next morning.

In three days, I would be marrying another man. Before that, I needed to sever every tie with the Crawford family.

"Woof!"

The soft yelp of a puppy froze me the moment I stepped into Crawford residence.

Jeydon was crouched on the lawn, cupping a tiny white puppy in his hands while Krisha played with it.

The scene looked warm and domestic beneath the sunlight—yet my fingers tightened on the cardboard box until the edge split.

Not long ago, this same man had killed my dog in one of his cold rages. Now, he was gifting another to Krisha like a treasure.

The puppy suddenly shuddered and vomited.

Krisha gasped, grabbed a blue scarf from the dog's bed, and began to wipe it.

The sight hit me like a blade. That was the scarf I had stayed up three nights knitting for Jeydon's birthday.

When I'd shyly given it to him, he'd said, "I love it. I'll keep it safe."

I had never seen him wear it. But I had often seen Krisha's gloves on his hands.

So this was where my scarf ended up—a rag in a dog's bed.

Then Jeydon suddenly reached for Krisha's wrist. My heart clenched.

"Let the maid handle it," he said in a tone of practiced gentleness. "You shouldn't touch filthy things."

I stood frozen, feeling my blood running cold.

"Cheska?" He finally noticed me, instinctively pulling Krisha behind him as if to shield her. "What are you doing here?"

Krisha peeked out from behind his shoulder, feigning innocence. "Miss Meyer, don't misunderstand. I forgot that scarf was yours. Jeydon told me I could take anything from his closet, so I just... grabbed it by accident."

I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Jeydon. "I came to return something."

I placed the box on the ground. "The engagement token and your photos are all here. I told you before—I'd let you go. Let's call off the engagement."

For a split second, surprise flickered in his eyes. Then he chuckled.

"Stop joking." He walked closer, arrogance curling around his words. "Marrying me has been your lifelong dream, hasn't it?"

He tapped my forehead lightly, as if scolding a stubborn child. "Let's forget the past. Take these back."

I stepped back. "If you won't accept them, I'll just throw them away."

"Suit yourself," he scoffed. "If you can bear it, go ahead."

Without a second's hesitation, I lifted the box and poured the photos onto the ground.

His face finally changed—something strange flickering behind his calm.

Could it be... she really mean it?

No. Impossible!

"Cheska!" He reached for my wrist, but I shook him off.

Then I took out a lighter.

In the next moment, twelve years of love went up in flames.

The fire burned bright and fierce, and for the first time, I could breathe.

'Jeydon—when this fire dies, the ugliest chapter of my life will end with it.'