Terrence's cold gaze swept toward the source of the noise. When he saw me, his hand instantly dropped from Sienna's waist.

Almost guiltily, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and walked toward me.

"Why did you suddenly come back here?This place is full of shady people—why didn't you bring anyone with you?"

The concern in his words sounded no different from before. But after watching him hold Sienna so intimately, every gesture of his only filled me with disgust.

The hand that once always reached for me now hovered in the air.

"I just felt like coming back. What about you?"

My indifferent question cut off whatever reprimand he had been about to unleash.

He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Sienna chimed in sweetly, "I just got back to the country. I asked Terrence to show me around. Surely you're not jealous over something so small, right?"

Seven years had passed. I was now the wife of a powerful CEO. Yet Sienna's gaze toward me was still the same—contempt wrapped in disdain.

Bolstered by her family background, she even stole what belonged to others with self-righteous ease.

"Denise, why aren't you saying anything?"

Pouting, she tugged at Terrence's sleeve. "Help me explain to her. I was young and foolish before, and I already apologized. Tell Denise not to be angry with me anymore..."

Her sickeningly coy words made my hands tremble. I finally cut her off. "Have you said enough?"

Delighted that she had gotten a reaction, Sienna burst into tears, throwing herself against Terrence's chest.

"I told you, I was just a silly girl back then. Besides, most of it wasn't even me—it was my friends! Why do you still hate me so much?"

Heart aching, Terrence brushed away her tears.

"Denise, that's enough. Don't go too far!"

The urge to argue burned in me, but his sharp rebuke smothered it to embers.

Even though I had already decided to leave, why did my chest still ache so violently?

Why—when he knew exactly how much I hated her—would he ask me to forgive, to erase the past as if it never happened?

Back in our senior year of high school, because Sienna's crush once spoke a few extra words to me, I became her target.

Every morning, my desk was filled with vile things: dead rats, bloody sanitary pads, even used condoms.

My homework mysteriously vanished after I handed it in.

Rumors spread that I was selling myself outside of school. Boys from other classes came to me, asking crudely how much I charged per night.

After school, her lackeys would drag me into the girls' bathroom by my hair.

They snapped humiliating photos, singed off my eyebrows with a lighter, pressed cigarette butts into my skin as if I were an ashtray.

The sound of sizzling flesh mixed with their laughter, scars were carved into my back—scars that would never fade.

When Terrence first saw them, the man who hadn’t shed a tear even when his own legs were broken trembled as he kissed each mark.

Hot tears fell onto my back, searing straight into my heart.

He whispered, “Denise... just give me a little more time. I'll hunt down everyone who ever hurt you and make them pay."

And he did as he promised.

The powerful, untouchable Terrence avenged me, except for one person.

The one who escaped was Sienna, conveniently studying abroad.

And it was on this last step that Terrence lost his way—because he fell in love with the very woman who once tormented me.

My silence stretched too long, and he mistook it for dissatisfaction.

His eyes lingered on me for a few seconds. The words of reproach circling his lips softened into a curt, "Get in the car."

Sienna wiped her fake tears and smiled sweetly, playing innocent. "I knew Denise was kind. She would definitely forgive me."

She reached toward me, her hands lacquered in the same blood-red polish I remembered all too well.

Instinctively, I stepped back.

But then, like the venomous creature she was, her fingers dug sharply into the soft flesh of my waist.

I gasped, raising my hand to shove her off.

She took the chance to stumble backward deliberately.

And in Terrence's eyes, the scene became something else entirely—not her cruelty, but my petty act of revenge.

Terrence immediately pulled Sienna into his arms, his voice dripping with concern.

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

His gaze swept anxiously over her body before he carefully brushed away a smudge of dirt from her calf.

Sienna bit her lip, insisting she was fine, yet her timid eyes kept darting toward me.

After confirming several times that she was unharmed, Terrence finally turned to me, his brows furrowed.

"Denise, you've gone too far! Sienna already apologized. Why won't you let go of the past? Besides, those things back then were done by others—Sienna was at most just a bystander!"

Hearing his biased words, my fists clenched tight. My nails dug so deep into my palms that only the pain kept me from breaking down.

"A bystander?" I scoffed.

Of course Sienna never dirtied her own hands.

As the queen bee, she only needed a single glance, and countless classmates would rush to do her bidding.

Terrence knew the truth—every last detail of it. Yet with just a few words from her lips, he dismissed my years of suffering as if they were nothing.

"Come on, don't fight. It's all in the past."

Standing behind him, Sienna played the part of the peacemaker, her lips speaking persuasion but her face was clouded with mockery.

I swallowed my fury and knelt to gather the scattered belongings on the ground.

She pretended to help, then deliberately stepped on the model plane.

Crack.

The fragile toy shattered into pieces.

Staring at the broken remains, I couldn't hold back anymore.

My hand shot up, ready to slap her—but Terrence was faster. His foot slammed into my shin, sending me crashing into the pile of precious keepsakes I had just gathered.

Sharp plastic pierced my back, pain flaring hot and raw.

"Enough! Why do you keep targeting Sienna? What's the point?"

He didn't notice the blood seeping through my clothes. Didn't notice my lips turn pale, or my trembling frame.

"That was my brother's things!" My voice cracked. "And she destroyed them like that!"

For a moment, Terrence froze. But quickly, his expression hardened again. "It's just a model. I'll buy him a better, more expensive one."

I looked up at the man I had known for seven years—and felt as if I were staring at a stranger.

He had forgotten.

Forgotten that he was the one who gave my brother that model for his birthday. Forgotten that Denver's dream was to become a dashing airline pilot.

But my brother was gone.

A new model plane could never reach his hands again.

The will to argue drained from me. Silent, I turned to leave. But by then, Terrence was already behind the wheel.

Seeing me walk away, he quickly pulled the car in front of me to block my path.

"I told you, stop being stubborn. Look at you—so pale. You must've skipped breakfast again, didn't you? Come on, let's grab lunch together."

I pressed my lips shut. With the divorce certificate already being processed, I didn't bother fighting him.

Numbly, I slid into the backseat.

The passenger seat had long since become Sienna's throne.

Even the car's perfume had changed—sweet, cloying, nauseating.

Inside, only their voices filled the air, her silvery laughter like needles piercing my ears.

In truth, ever since Sienna returned to the country, I hadn't had a single night of peace.

To take my place, she came at me relentlessly. She bribed servants to slip allergens into my food. Sent packages of dead rats, drenched in blood, to our home to terrify me to divorce Terrence immediately.

She even went as far as drugging me unconscious, staged compromising photos, and spread them across social media. Even kidnapped my brother, forcing me to sign a divorce agreement.

Each time, Terrence swore he would make her pay. Each time, he promised me it would never happen again.

And yet, in the end, he climbed into bed with the woman I hated most.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes. The pain in my back made it impossible to focus.

Suddenly, a piercing screech of brakes tore through the air.

My eyes flew open—a massive truck was barreling straight at us from the side.

Terrence jerked the steering wheel, but the collision was unavoidable.

The violent impact sent the entire car into a brutal shake, airbags bursting open in an instant.

My head slammed against the seat, dizziness flooding my senses.

Instinctively, I wanted to check if Terrence was safe. But he didn't spare me a single glance.

Every shred of his attention was on Sienna. He even used his body as a shield, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Sienna, are you still with me?" His voice trembled with panic I had never heard before, blood dripping down his forehead that he didn't bother to wipe away.

In his arms, Sienna whimpered, shivering like a wounded bird. "Terrence, my hand hurts... my head too..."

They were performing their tragic love story in the front seat.

And I—the one hurt the most—sat forgotten in the back.

Without the protection of an airbag, the force of the crash threw me hard against the door, then slammed me back again.

My head smashed into the window, glass shattering into glittering shards. The wound on my back tore wider, warm blood soaking rapidly through my clothes.

Only then did Terrence glance toward the rear seats.

Hesitation flickered in his eyes... but in the next heartbeat, he turned back to Sienna.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. Onlookers rushed forward, prying at the mangled doors, shouting for help.

"Save Sienna first!" Terrence's urgent cry cut through the chaos, as if he had completely forgotten that I was still trapped, bleeding, barely conscious.

My vision blurred, crimson flooding every corner. I struggled to scream for help, to make him remember me.

Just once—I wanted the man I had saved years ago to save me in return. But Terrence carried Sienna carefully out of the car, murmuring soft reassurances.

He didn't look back. Not once. Not even for a single heartbeat of hesitation.

The numbness of blood loss crept through my limbs.

As darkness closed in, one last bitter thought surfaced: He once promised, when proposing, that he would never let me get hurt. Yet he couldn't keep that vow for even a single year.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed.

"You're awake!" The nurse's voice quivered with excitement. "If you haven't woken up soon, Mr. Hanson was ready to buy out the entire hospital just for you!"

Her eyes softened with envy. "You're so lucky to have a husband who loves you this much. He even had people redecorate your ward so you'd feel more comfortable. And every day, he brings fresh flowers—never the same kind twice."

I turned my head.

On the bedside table, the vase was brimmed with blooming crabapple blossoms—the one flower I hated most.

"Really?" My lips curved in a cold smile. "He loves me that much?"

Oblivious, the nurse pulled out her phone and eagerly showed me a video that had gone viral online.

"Of course! Look—this proves how much he cares! He risked his life to pull you out of the wreckage."

The shaky footage, taken by a bystander at the crash scene, showed Terrence cradling someone from the passenger seat, carrying her out with painstaking care.

Her face was hidden, but her delicate frame was unmistakable.

The comments overflowed with admiration—praising him as a true man, a devoted husband, a lover who cherished his wife above all else.

Yet the woman he rescued so tenderly... wasn't me.

While the internet envied the love I supposedly had, I had been left bleeding and dying inside that car.

A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "Yes... he really does love me."

The nurse's smile faltered. She quickly excused herself and slipped out of the room.

Moments later, Terrence entered, carrying yet another fresh bouquet.