The wound on Ivy's leg healed slowly. A dull ache pulsed day and night.

When the doctor removed the gauze to check on the healing progress, he frowned and warned her repeatedly.

"You need to watch what you eat. No alcohol, no spicy food, nothing that could cause inflammation. Not even a little. Otherwise, your wound will get infected easily, and the scar will get even worse."

Caesar stood beside her, listening closely and nodding. "I understand, doctor. You can trust me."

Back home, Caesar loosened his tie and called Ivy as she started walking up the stairs slowly.

"There's an important party tonight. Florence is coming, too. It's her first time at an event like that, and she doesn't know the rules. Keep an eye on her."

Ivy didn't stop. Her shoulders stiffened a little. "Sure."

The banquet hall was all sparkling, smelling nice, and full of shiny smiles.

Ivy wore a simple black evening gown and did her best to blend into the background.

Florence wore a bright pink dress and stayed close to Caesar's side, looking around with wide-eyed curiosity.

Whispers stuck to Ivy like flies, buzzing around her without stopping.

"Look. The original and the replacement both showed up."

"It's obvious that Mr. Shepherd is spoiling the younger one lately. He takes her everywhere."

"Ivy's probably about to lose her place. A decade or not, men are men in the end."

Each line was a blade, slicing a heart that was already bleeding.

When Ivy stepped out of the restroom, she barely had time to focus before a hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her into a corner.

Caesar's face was dark, impatience and anger set deep in his eyes. "Where did you go? Didn't I tell you to watch after Florence?"

His grip hurt. But before Ivy could say anything, he was already dragging her back toward the center of the hall.

The air was tight with tension.

The burly Mr. Smith had a damp patch spread across his chest. He stank of alcohol as he pointed at Florence, who stood there trembling with red eyes while he yelled angrily at her.

"Are you blind?! Do you think you can afford to pay for this suit?"

Florence shrank behind Caesar immediately, crying like a frightened child. "Caesar, I didn't mean it. He… He touched me first, so I just..."

Caesar's expression sank. He pulled her closer and faced Mr. Smith, saying, "It's just an accident, Mr. Smith. There's no need to make a scene. I'll pay ten times the cost of the suit. I'll apologize on her behalf."

"Apologize?" Mr. Smith sneered.

He was clearly drunk and in no mood to simply let things ease.

"That isn't how you show favor for someone, Mr. Shepherd! Apologies should be sincere! Have her..." He pointed at Florence. "Drink all this wine! Every last drop of it! Otherwise, we're not finished unless that happens!"

He was holding a full bottle of hard liquor.

Florence let out a strangled scream and held Caesar's arm. "I don't want to! I can't drink that. I'll die!"

Caesar's brows turned into a furrow.

Mr. Smith chuckled, his filthy gaze sliding between Ivy and Florence. "How about this, Caesar? You choose. One of them drinks."

"Either her…" He first pointed at Florence. Then, he pointed at Ivy. "Or her."

Every eye in the room locked on Caesar. His jaw tightened. His gaze flicked between them.

He hesitated for less than three seconds before pointing at Ivy. He didn't even look at her as he said in a low and cold voice, "She can drink it."

Ivy thought her ears were ringing.

The doctor's warning was echoing in her head.

The unhealed wound on her leg still throbbed.

But he had forgotten.

Or… He simply didn't care anymore.

Ivy looked at Caesar. All of his attention was on the shaking Florence in his arms. He patted Florence's back, murmuring to her, and never glanced Ivy's way.

So… This was what it felt like when a heart finally died.

Ivy's lips formed a smile, but no one was sure if it was really a smile out of joy or something else.

She did not speak. She did not look at anyone. She stepped forward and grabbed the bottle.

The first quaff tore down her throat like burning fire.

Her stomach lurched.

One quaff.

Two quaffs.

Three quaffs...

The sneers around her blurred into noise. All she could see was Caesar's back as he shielded Florence.

Ten quaffs. Not a drop left in the bottle.

Ivy set the empty bottle down hard on the table. Her throat burned so badly she could barely force any words out. Her chest felt hollow, like someone had dug straight through it and left a void in its place.

"Is that enough?" Ivy asked, her voice hoarse.

Mr. Smith froze, clearly not expecting her to finish it so thoroughly.

He simply snorted and waved it off.

Only then did Caesar seem to notice Ivy was done drinking from the bottle. His brows tightened for a moment, but Florence sobbed again, and his attention snapped right back to her.

Ivy turned and stumbled away, heading straight for the restroom.

She shoved the door shut, braced both hands on the cold sink, and retched hard, but nothing came out.

She was in so much pain that cold sweat broke. Her fingers shook as she lifted her skirt to check the wound, searching for fresh blood, for any sign it had split open.

She leaned toward the spot that hurt most. Without thinking, she blew on it softly, the way she used to when she was a child and had no one to comfort her but herself.

Suddenly, the adjacent stall was filled with the labored breaths of a man and a woman.

Caesar's voice, thick and hungry, came first. "You little witch… You really know how to get to me."

Florence's laugh was soft, teasing, broken by gasps. "What about Ivy?"

"What about her?" Caesar's voice dropped, then turned muffled, followed by the sound of kissing and the rustle of fabric. "Right now, you're the only one that matters."

The sounds grew louder.

They didn't even care where they were.

Ivy froze even as she bent over, the pain hit her so sharply she could barely breathe.

The banquet slowly quieted as it wound down.

Someone suggested a group photo, and laughter rose as people drifted toward the center.

Caesar found Ivy standing alone in the shadowed corner.

There was almost no color in her face. He walked over, his voice softer now, with a faint edge of guilt. He raised a hand like he was going to touch her cheek, but she tilted her head and avoided him.

His hand hung in the air for a moment before he let it back down. "Does your leg still hurt a lot?"

He lowered his voice.

"When we get back, I'll contact Professor Weaver. He has a new specialty drug from overseas. It's supposed to be best for scars. I won't let you end up with one."

Ivy raised her eyes. They slid over his face, calm and empty, then drifted past him to Florence, who was lifting the hem of her dress and hurrying over.

Both their faces were faintly red from alcohol.

Ivy saw it clearly. Bitterness rose in her throat.

"Okay," she said softly.

Caesar looked surprised by how obedient she was.

In the past, she would have fought him, demanded answers, cried, and made a scene. He studied Ivy's excessively calm face.

"You seem to have quieted down recently," he commented, his voice holding a curious hint.

Ivy didn't answer.

Quiet?

She had screamed herself hoarse before. She had cried. She had confronted him.

All it got her was his cold shoulder and his growing impatience, and then even more tenderness toward Florence.

As if her pain was proof she was childish and worthless.

Now, she was going to leave soon.

The visa approval would come soon.

None of this mattered anymore.

Even arguing with him in the final moments felt pointless.

The crowd pressed in as the photographer called for everyone to look at the camera.

Boom!

A deep, terrifying blast tore open above them. The crystal chandelier shook violently, then turned dark. The whole banquet hall started to shake.

"Aaaah!"

Screams, sobs, and the crashing sounds of falling objects swallowed everything around them in an instant.

Chunks of the ceiling broke loose and crashed down. People scattered in panic in all directions.

They were standing near the center, the most dangerous place to be.

A thick decorative plaster slab dropped straight toward them with a rushing whistle.

In that split second, Caesar's expression changed. He grabbed Florence almost on instinct and yanked her into his arms. He covered her with his own body as they dove under a heavy dining table, where it was safer.

Ivy had been right beside him. She even felt the wind of his movement as he lunged away.

She froze, stunned by the sudden disaster as she stared at Caesar and chose to protect someone else without any hesitation.

Ten years…

Memories flashed before her like a film.

Him in his expensive suit, reaching a hand out to her like a beam of light in that run-down apartment building.

His clumsy fingers tied up her hair.

The sweetness of the first slice of cake he ever bought her.

The love that had once existed in his eyes through those ninety-nine proposals.

Love and hate knotted together across ten long years.

And in the end, there was nothing left.

Then, Ivy saw it.

Another sharp chunk of debris was falling in a straight line toward the back of Caesar's head.

She didn't have time to think, and her body moved before her mind did. She rushed forward and shoved him hard, forcing him out from under the table where he was still curled around Florence.

Almost at the same time...

Bang!

Heavy debris and broken decorations crashed down and swallowed her.

Caesar went sprawling. When he turned back, he was shocked to see what had happened.

Where Ivy had been was now a mound of rubble. Only one pale hand stuck out, limp, fingers slightly curled.

He stared, blank.

"Caesar, I'm scared! I'm so scared!" Florence sobbed in his arms, yanking him back to the moment.

Rescue workers rushed in and started searching through the wreckage. They were found quickly enough.

Medical staff checked through them quickly, voices clipped and urgent. "Stretchers! Two injured here! The ambulance can take two more! Move!"

Caesar helped Florence to her feet. She was shaking and crying.

Almost without thinking, he pointed toward Florence's face urgently and said, "Take her first! She just had a skin graft on her face. She can't risk an infection. We can't afford to make mistakes."

Only then did he look at Ivy on the ground, her breathing faint. His brows turned into a frown as he spoke quickly, like he was trying to calm her.

"Ivy, hang in there. I've had them call a second ambulance. Stay with me. You'll be fine!" He paused, tightened his hold around Florence, and added, "Florence scares easily, and she's really shaken. I have to stay with her."

Ivy, lying in cold rubble, heard every word as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

That was how the last tiny spark in her heart went out completely.

Of course.

It was always the same.

She couldn't even feel disappointment anymore. The only sensation that was left behind was numb, bitter pain.

She knew this was coming, right?

With the last of her strength, she moved her head in the smallest nod, like she understood, like she agreed.

Seeing how "sensible" she was, Caesar seemed to relax. He stopped hesitating, wrapped his arms around the sobbing Florence, and followed the stretcher toward the exit, never looking back once.

Ivy lay in darkness and silence, listening to footsteps fade and the ambulance siren rise into the distance.

She slowly lost consciousness.

Ivy struggled to open her eyes. It took a while before her vision focused once again.

She turned her stiff neck, little by little.

The hospital ward was very quiet.

No one was there.

Her throat was painfully dry. She tried to sit up for water, but the moment she moved, it felt like her body was starting to fall apart. Sharp pain shot through her bones, especially her back and the leg that had been pinned under the debris.

The door opened softly.

Caesar's secretary, Morgan, walked in with a folder in his arms.

"Ms. Rivers, you're awake?" Morgan hurried over. "You've been unconscious for three days. The doctor says you have multiple soft tissue injuries and a mild concussion. You need plenty of rest."

Ivy opened her mouth. "Where is he?"

Awkwardness flickered across Morgan's face as he pushed his glasses up.

"Mr. Shepherd flew out yesterday afternoon and took Ms. Lane to Alpsland in Northvia. The auction was scheduled a long time ago, and Ms. Lane was really looking forward to it. Mr. Shepherd didn't want to disappoint her, so… If you need anything, just tell me. I'll handle it. He has authorized me to do so."

Even though Ivy's heart had been dying for a long time, hearing it still felt like someone drove something sharp into her heart. The pain still spread.

She had thrown herself in front of falling debris to save him.

She had nearly died.

And yet, he hadn't even waited by her bed for her to wake up.

Pain, when pushed far enough, turned into numbness.

She looked at Morgan and nodded slowly and said hoarsely, "I understand. Thank you."

Morgan seemed to relax. He set the folder and a few health drinks down on the bedside table, repeated the doctor's instructions, then left in a hurry.

The room went silent again.

Ivy leaned back against the pillow, staring for a long time before she finally reached for the phone beside her.

The bright red notification on Facebook glared at her. She tapped on it without thinking.

Her feed was flooded with Florence's updates.

Grids of photos appeared.

Luxury first-class cabins. A hotel terrace overlooking Skyburg's beautiful lakes and mountains. The inside of an auction house.

Florence smiled sweetly, leaning into Caesar's side in every shot. Caesar turned toward her, his eyes full of tenderness Ivy had not seen in a long time.

[Caesar says the cheese fondue here is the most authentic.]

[The sunset in Alpsland is so beautiful! Of course, it still can't compare to the sunset someone gave me.]

The photo showed a massive diamond necklace Caesar had given her.

[Ahhhh! I never thought he'd really bid for this emerald jewelry set for me! He said it matches my temperament.]

The photo showed a set of masterwork jewelry set studded with emeralds.

Each post drove another spike into Ivy's heart, a thorn in her eyes.

The last update was from an hour ago.

No long caption. Just a close-up photo.

Two hands overlapping on a table.

The hand underneath was slender and well-defined. Caesar's.

The hand on top was delicate and fair. A blazing pink diamond ring sat on the ring finger.

The caption was only two words, but it tore straight through Ivy's last line of defense.

[I do.]

Ivy knew that pink diamond.

Back when they had flipped through the auction catalog together, Caesar had pointed at that stone and whispered in her ear, "Ivy, this one's the best. It suits you. When it's our hundredth proposal, I'll use it to propose to you."

So the hundredth proposal hadn't been late. He was simply proposing to someone else.

Ivy's heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy grasp and then shattered. It was so painful that she folded in on herself. Tears spilled out, soaking the pillow in seconds.

She lay alone in the cold hospital room.

On her phone screen, financial and entertainment headlines kept flashing across the headline.

[Shepherd Group CEO spends a fortune to please his beloved!]

[Expensive pink diamond appears at Alpsland auction! Likely to be Mr. Shepherd's token of engagement!]

[A live Cinderella story? Caesar Shepherd has a new love and may be heading for the altar!]

Every word mocked the decade she had spent with him, turning them into a cruel joke.

Over the next few days, it felt like Caesar had disappeared. Not a text. Not a call. It was like Ivy didn't exist.

Florence, though, kept posting more photos, like she was afraid Ivy might forget.

The two of them hug at the foot of the snowy mountains.

Spoon-feed each other at an upscale restaurant.

Hotel selfies with Caesar's sleeping face blurred in the background...

-

A week later, Ivy was discharged.

Her visa approval sat quietly in her inbox.

She stood at the hospital entrance and pulled out her phone. After a long hesitation, she still dialed Caesar.

It rang for a long time before someone finally picked up.

Noise swelled in the background, like he was at some bustling event.

"Hello?" His voice sounded distracted, with a hint of annoyance at being interrupted.

"It's me." Her voice was hoarse.

"Yeah? What is it? The doctor said you can be discharged? Have Morgan pick you up," he said quickly.

"When are you coming back?" she heard herself ask.

There was a short pause. Florence's soft, coy voice drifted through. "Caesar, who is it? Come on, this is really delicious!"

Caesar was pulled away from the phone, but his indulgent tone still leaked through. "It's nothing important. You eat first."

Then his voice became clear again, filled with irritation.

"Florence isn't done having fun yet. She wants to stay a few more days. There's also a meeting regarding a merger I need to attend here. I'll come back soon. You go home first. If you need anything, tell Morgan."

Standing on the crowded street with the phone in her hand, Ivy let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh. "Alright."

She ended the call.

The last trace of hope went out for good.

She went back to the villa.

The place she had lived for a decade. The place she had once believed to be her home.

She started packing, taking only the documents she truly needed.

In the end, she went into the study and sat at Caesar's wide desk. She pulled out a clean sheet of paper and picked up the fountain pen he used most.

The pen tip hovered over the page for a long time.

There were so many things she wanted to say that were stuck in her chest.

In the end, she wrote only a few short lines.

She folded the letter, slipped it into a plain envelope with no name, and set it in the most obvious spot on the desk.

When she was done, she stood up and grabbed the handle of her old suitcase as she looked around the house one last time.

Then, she turned and closed the door.

The lock clicked softly.

It shut out the past.

And shut out everything.