After confirming with a professional restorer that the emerald bracelet could still be salvaged, Minerva finally came back to herself.

She was admitted to the hospital for tests and kept under observation for two days.

During that time, Yolanda sent her a flood of taunting texts and photos—pictures of Frederick showering her with designer bags, kneeling on the floor to massage her feet, kissing her like he couldn't breathe without her.

Minerva didn't respond to a single one.

Once discharged, she ran into Algernon and Maxine, who had just returned from a business trip.

They brought back armfuls of gifts for Minerva, but flew into a rage the moment they realized Frederick wasn't home.

Before they could erupt into a full-on rant, Minerva quickly cut in. She told them she knew where he was and offered to go pick him up.

Thus, she made her way to Nightfall Club and found the private room where Frederick was. She was just about to walk in when a voice from inside made her freeze.

"Fred, you're not seriously thinking of marrying Yolanda, are you?"

Over the murmur of voices and the clink of glasses, Frederick's drawling, indifferent tone cut through. "Of course not. She's just a tool to provoke Minerva. That's all she's ever been.

"My heart's always belonged to Minerva. Always has, always will."

"Fred, you're seriously loyal. If a girl like Yolanda came onto me like that, I'd have fallen for her in no time. But you've been faking it for this long and still kept your head straight? Mad respect."

"Exactly. Minerva's lucky as hell to have a guy like you, Fred. Loyal and devoted, you're one in a million."

As the chorus of flattery grew louder, Minerva's hands clenched at her sides. Her fingers dug into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

A cold dread crept through Minerva's chest, tight and suffocating. A bitter, almost mocking smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but her eyes were wide with disbelief.

For months, Frederick had been using Yolanda to deliberately and methodically provoke Minerva. Just the thought of it seemed absurd in her mind.

She couldn't make sense of it. She couldn't understand why he would go to such lengths, staging all of this without any apparent reason.

But then his buddies inside handed her the answer she hadn't even been looking for.

"Fred's been bending over backward for Minerva, giving her his whole damn heart. So why doesn't she appreciate it? She was talking in a group chat about how she doesn't want to get married and just wants to enjoy life instead. What the hell does that even mean?"

"She's just keeping Fred on the hook. Everyone knows Fred's been planning a proposal forever. She's banking on the fact that he'll never walk away, so she's free to do whatever she wants."

"If Astrid hadn't leaked Minerva's messages, Fred would still be planning the wedding like a fool. All I'm saying is, if Minerva had half the love Fred has for her, they'd be married by now."

Hearing the conversation, Minerva's mind blanked.

She thought, "A group chat? Something about me saying I didn't want to get married?"

She frantically searched her memory, trying to make sense of it all—only to hear Frederick's cold voice cut through the room, silencing his friends who were still trying to defend him.

"Enough. I don't want to hear any more of this. Whatever's between me and Minerva is not for any of you to judge."

"Alright, alright. We won't bring up your precious Ms. Sowle again. Let's talk about Yolanda instead. Having a firecracker of a woman around must be exciting, right?"

"She's alright. I feel nothing for her," Frederick replied indifferently.

His dispassionate tone only made the others laugh harder.

"Come on, Fred. You don't have to lie to us. Every time Yolanda touches you, you look like you're about to explode. I bet you've blown through a hundred pairs of pants by now!"

"Exactly! And you're still trying to be faithful to Minerva? Love's one thing, and sex is another. She already turned her back on you. So what if you sleep with a few other women?"

Frederick's brow furrowed tightly. "When I say I feel nothing, I mean it. You guys should know better than anyone. There's only one person I've ever cared about, and that's Minerva.

"Every time I got worked up... it was always because of her. She'd be right there, walking around in those dresses, just being herself."

Only then did the room quiet down as realization sank in.

Minerva stood frozen outside, her body feeling weightless, as if the floor had disappeared beneath her.

Nothing felt real.

She suddenly remembered that night at the hotel—how worked up he had gotten. There was also that time in the car when his breathing turned shallow and uneven. She had been there every time.

Her mind was still hazy, but her fingers moved on instinct. She scrolled through her phone until she found the group chat with her old college roommates from a month ago.

One of them had asked, "What's your ideal age to get married?"

"24."

"26."

Minerva had answered, "30."

That one word had triggered a flurry of chaos in the chat.

"Wait, what? Didn't Frederick say he'd marry you as soon as you were old enough? Why wait till you're 30? What's he supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Oh, please. Let him deal with it. Minerva's gorgeous. She's got guys lining up for her around the block. It's not like she needs Frederick."

"Exactly! If you ask me, settling down while young is overrated. We should be enjoying our freedom while we can—flirting, having fun, breaking a few hearts. That's the thrill of life, isn't it?"

"Okay, hear me out. Why not just date every guy in your circle who's into you? Go full femme fatale mode. Let them worship you while you forget what mornings even look like."

Minerva remembered she had been in the shower while all that nonsense was blowing up.

By the time she returned and saw the influx of messages, she had replied with a single line.

"My ideal is to get married at 30. But if it's Federick… I'd marry him at 20."

Minerva had always known that Astrid Preston harbored feelings for Frederick.

What she hadn't expected was for Astrid to secretly screenshot one of their group chats—just a random, unserious conversation between friends—and send it to someone else behind her back.

But what hurt Minerva most wasn't Astrid's betrayal. It was the fact that Frederick would rather take that out-of-context, cropped-up nonsense at face value.

Instead of coming to her directly for the truth, he went so far as to stage an entire performance with another woman—just to provoke her.

Everything they had built over the past two decades seemed to mean nothing to him. Her love and sincerity didn't even earn her a moment of his trust.

The thought was so absurd that it felt unreal. Minerva's chest tightened. It was as if a pair of invisible hands had wrapped around her lungs and were slowly squeezing the air out of her.

Minerva was struggling to breathe.

She gasped for air, her steps unsteady as she turned and walked away.

Stumbling out of the club, she made it back to the parking garage. She climbed into her car, hands trembling as she fastened the seatbelt and reached for the ignition.

Just as the engine roared to life, the passenger door suddenly flew open.

Yolanda slid into the seat beside her without a hint of shame, insisting on hitching a ride. No matter how many times Minerva told her to get out, she stayed put, smug and unmoved.

Minerva's head was still spinning from everything she had just heard. She didn't have the energy to argue, so she simply put the car in gear and drove off.

As soon as the car hit the winding road into the hills, Yolanda pulled out her phone, snapped a few selfies, and suddenly started taunting her.

"Minerva, it must eat you alive that your childhood sweetheart picked me over you in just a month. After 20 years with you, he still chose me. That's gotta sting."

Minerva's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a moment, but she didn't respond to the provocation.

Yolanda couldn't stand Minerva's high-and-mighty attitude and immediately grew frustrated. She pulled out a photo and waved it in Minerva's face, eager to show off and prove her point.

"I bet you don't even know what this is. It's the latest diamond ring released by Caldwell Auction House. It cost 700 million, you hear? Frederick bid on it himself.

"He's going to propose to me at his birthday party. I can't wait to see if you'll still pretend like it doesn't bother you when that day comes."

Frederick's birthday happened to be the same day the legal paperwork would be finalized, officially making her and Frederick siblings.

She had already made up her mind to let him go. Whatever ridiculous show he wanted to put on after that wouldn't concern her anymore.

So she gave Yolanda a calm, polite reply. "Congratulations."

To Yolanda, it sounded like mockery. Her face flushed red with fury.

Before she could snap back, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and she noticed a car following behind them. Her anger gave way to smug satisfaction.

"Wanna make a bet? Between you and me, Frederick will always pick me," she said, leaning forward.

Minerva had no interest in any kind of bet, let alone this one. She didn't respond.

But in the next second, Yolanda suddenly lunged forward like a madwoman, grabbing the steering wheel.

The car jerked violently, weaving sharply across the narrow mountain road in a wild zigzag before smashing straight into the hillside.

With a loud bang, Minerva's vision flooded with red.

She felt herself float, light and untethered, as if her body were no longer part of this world.

Her vision blurred and fractured into shadows. The pain soon faded as her consciousness began to slip.

And just before everything went dark, she saw a familiar face.

Frederick had stopped the car beside her and opened the driver's door, his eyes filled with raw despair and heartbreak.

Minerva instinctively called his name, but he froze in place.

After a tense few seconds, he snapped out of it and walked over to the passenger side to carry the unconscious Yolanda away.

He left behind only one sentence. "If you're still conscious, call an ambulance yourself. I'm going to save my girlfriend."

Watching his car disappear down the road, Minerva smiled bitterly, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with sorrow.

Summoning the last of her strength, she dialed Algernon's number. The moment the call connected, she slipped into endless darkness.

Minerva felt like she had been trapped in a dream for far too long.

In that dream, she returned to the day of her coming-of-age ceremony. A 19-year-old Frederick stood beside her, and under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he fastened his family's heirloom necklace around her neck.

She looked down, hoping to see what the necklace looked like—but there was nothing there, just an empty stretch of skin. When she reached up to touch it, her fingers brushed against something wet and cold, like the trace of a tear.

The startlingly real sensation pulled her scattered consciousness back together, piece by piece.

In the darkness, a voice broke through—shaky and choked with tears. "Minerva, please wake up. Don't scare me like this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone in the hills…"

That familiar voice guided her toward a glimmer of light.

With great effort, she forced her eyes open. The first thing she saw was Frederick's face, his eyes wide with disbelief and joy.

But within seconds, every trace of emotion vanished from his face. His expression morphed back into that casual indifference he now always wore.

Seeing him switch so suddenly, Minerva almost believed she was still dreaming.

But then he spoke, his words cutting through that illusion. "You're awake? My parents said your injuries were serious and insisted I check on you, but you seem fine to me."

If she hadn't already learned the truth, his dismissive tone might have fooled her again.

She looked at him in silence. "Frederick, I never knew your acting skills were this good," she thought.

But Minerva no longer had the strength or patience to be part of his performance. It didn't matter how long he planned to keep up the farce. Soon enough, they would officially become siblings.

She parted her dry lips, her voice hoarse. "If you've got things to do, go and take care of them."

Frederick froze for a moment, unsettled by something in her voice.

Whenever she got hurt or upset, it used to take him a long time to talk her down.

But now, it was like she had become someone else entirely.

Just as he was about to press further, a text from Yolanda popped up on his phone.

Glancing at the message, he shrugged and forced a lazy smirk. "Yeah, I've got stuff going on. I'll have my mom look after you."

He stood and headed for the door. Just before stepping out, he turned back, his voice carrying something unreadable.

"Oh, by the way—don't forget my birthday's the day after tomorrow. Make sure you come. I'm planning to propose to Yolanda that day."

Thinking of the diamond ring Yolanda had flaunted, Minerva could already picture Frederick on one knee, asking her to marry him.

She managed a faint smile, her voice barely audible. "I'm leaving. I won't get to see the grand finale of the show you directed yourself."

Of course, Frederick didn't hear her. He had already disappeared down the hallway.

The doctors diagnosed her with a mild concussion. After she stayed one more night at the hospital, Algernon and Maxine came to take her home.

Back at the Davison residence, they handed her a paper envelope. Inside was the revised birth certificate showing her name filed under their family, legally making her Frederick's sister.

Maxine's eyes softened as she looked at her. "Minerva, everything's been finalized. You've just been in an accident. Why don't you delay your trip a few days until you're feeling better?"

Minerva stared at the document in her hands, where the line now officially labeled her and Frederick as siblings. She exhaled quietly and shook her head.

"It's better to leave today. My friend has already taken time off to pick me up. I don't want to trouble them again."

Hearing that someone would be there to meet her, Algernon and Maxine looked a little more at ease. They helped her with her luggage and drove her to the airport soon after.

On the way over, the older couple started talking about Frederick again.

"I've no idea where your brother ran off to. We haven't been able to reach him. We were hoping he'd come home for his birthday, and we'd tell him then that you've officially joined the Davison family as his sister."

Seeing how frustrated they were, Minerva quickly tried to calm them.

"He's probably hanging out with friends. It's fine if he doesn't come to see me off. Dad, Mom, can you please hand him the gift I left in my room?"

They nodded and continued fussing over her with heartfelt reminders and last-minute advice. Minerva listened carefully, committing every word to memory.

When the boarding announcement echoed through the departure terminal, she waved them goodbye and walked into the security checkpoint without looking back.

Just before boarding the plane, she tried calling Frederick's number. She wanted to tell him herself that she was now legally part of the Davison family. But the call rang endlessly, and no one picked up.

Just as the line disconnected, a message came through.

It was a photo from Yolanda, taken at a party.

In it, Yolanda was kissing Frederick.

Minerva glanced at it, but not a flicker of emotion stirred within her.

Quietly, she typed out a text and sent it over. "Frederick, from today onward, we are officially siblings. I wish you and your fiancee a lifetime of love and happiness."

As if on cue, the plane began moving down the runway.

Without waiting for a reply, Minerva powered off her phone completely.