Mia’s words seemed to spark an idea in James. Without hesitation, he yanked me up from the bed, his grip firm and unyielding, and pressed my head against the phone to unlock it with Face ID.

The beep of success was a cruel sound. James wasted no time, scrolling through the settings and erasing his number from my emergency contacts.

“There,” he said coldly. “You’re in a hospital now. If anything happens, talk to the doctors. I’ll cover the bills, but don’t contact me again.”

He tossed the phone onto the bed, his disdain evident, then turned to Mia. Together, they began walking out of the room.

“James,” Mia said softly, glancing back at me with a mock expression of worry. “Are you sure this is okay? What if… she really doesn’t make it?”

James chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with scorn. “You’re overthinking. If she wanted to die, she’d have done it three years ago. She doesn’t have the guts for it.”

Mia let out a sigh of relief and turned to me with a sweet yet condescending smile. “Charlotte, take care of yourself, okay? James and I are going to celebrate the New Year. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you in a couple of days.”

Their footsteps faded, leaving the room silent but for the sound of my ragged breathing. I curled up under the quilt, my tears soaking the pillow as sobs wracked my body.

James was right. I should have died three years ago—in that disaster that took everything from me.

The weight of despair consumed me, and I spiraled into another panic attack. The piercing alarm of the ECG monitor echoed through the room, a frantic cry for help.

Doctors and nurses burst into the ward, their faces tense. “She’s in distress! Prepare for emergency resuscitation!”

“Charging, defibrillation at 200 Hz—clear!”

The doctor’s urgent voice faded as my consciousness blurred, and I slipped into an abyss of endless darkness.

In that darkness, memories from three years ago resurfaced—the disaster that shattered all my happiness.

I found myself reliving those days with James. We have known each other since childhood, growing up side by side. It wasn’t an exaggeration to call us childhood sweethearts.

That fateful summer, James had a fierce argument with his parents and, in his anger, insisted on running away. He dragged me along, and we ended up hiding in an abandoned mine.

We stayed there for an entire week, with no word from our families. At first, we were stubborn, believing they would come looking for us. But as the days passed, hope dwindled.

Finally, we ran out of food. The hunger and cold were unbearable. My body weakened, but I forced myself to carry James on my back, trembling as I dialed my parents for help.

The moment my parents heard where we had been, they came rushing to find us.

“You foolish child! I thought you were just out playing with James,” my mother cried, her voice thick with worry and heartbreak.

When I ran away with James, I was terrified of worrying my parents, so I left a note at home saying I was just going out to play with him for a few days.

I reassured my mom as she arrived, asking with concern, "I’m fine, Mom. Did you bring the things I wanted?" I comforted her, thinking I’d send them away once I had what I needed.

But my father, face tight with anxiety, wasn’t as understanding. “Do you still want to keep making trouble? No, you two need to go back today,” he insisted.

He stormed into the mine to look for James, his frustration palpable.

“Traitor! Charlotte, you’re a traitor!” My father’s angry voice echoed as he dragged James out of the mine, who was clearly unwilling to go.

Seeing James' resistance, my mother stepped forward, trying to calm him down.

“James, your parents are worried about you. Come back with us.”

But James, stubborn as ever, seized the moment when my father was distracted. He slammed the car door on my dad’s hand and ran back toward the mine.

Ignoring his injury, my father immediately ran after him, leaving my mother to hold my hand, urging me to wait outside.

Minutes later, James emerged from the mine, his face full of panic.

He pointed urgently at the mine. “Aunt Marie, go save Uncle Lester!”

My mother didn’t hesitate. She sprinted into the mine, and I immediately followed. James tried to stop me, but I was too quick, and he had no choice but to come along.

The mine was thick with smoke, and the scene inside was chaos. My father was pinned under a mass of falling rocks, his body struggling but immobile.

My mother rushed toward him, but another wave of rocks struck her, sending her crashing to the ground. Blood pooled around her, and she lay there, weak and on the verge of death.

“Charlotte, go! It’s dangerous here! Leave with James! Quickly!”

My mother screamed at me with all her strength.

Ignoring the thick smoke and choking dust, I ran into the mine, desperate to reach her. The moment my hands touched her, the entire mine collapsed.

The smoke engulfed me, and rocks rained down, knocking me unconscious.

When I finally regained consciousness, I saw the anxious face of James' mother.

"Charlotte, you’re awake. You almost gave your aunt a heart attack."

I tried to sit up, my voice weak with concern. "Aunt Lorie, where's my mother? Where's my father? Are they okay?"

Her face instantly shifted to panic, but she quickly forced a smile.

"Charlotte, your parents are fine. They're in another ward," she reassured me, though her words sounded hollow.

I could see through her attempt to comfort me. I didn’t believe her flimsy explanation. "Take me to see them," I insisted.

Seeing that she could no longer hide the truth, she called out to James, standing outside the door, and ordered him to kneel in front of me.

"Charlotte," James' mother said, her voice trembling, "your parents are gone. It’s all James' fault. But don’t worry, the Donovan Family will take care of you."

Hearing this, it felt as though I had been struck by lightning. My mind went completely blank.

After a brief moment of numbness, panic gripped me, and I began to scream uncontrollably, lashing out at the people around me.

The mining disaster that took my parents had already left me with deep scars, and now I was sinking deeper into the abyss of panic disorder.

To "make it right," the Donovan Family arranged a marriage between James and me. James showed no resistance to this arrangement. In fact, over the past three years, he had treated me with kindness and care.

But everything changed when Mia entered the picture.

Mia was the daughter of the Donovan Family’s live-in nanny. She came to live with them just a year after I got engaged to James. Aunt Lorie, who had a great fondness for Mia’s mother, agreed to let her stay with the Donovan Family, understanding how hard it was for Mia’s mother to raise her alone.

From that moment on, I felt like everything I had in the Donovan Family was slowly slipping away, unseen and unnoticed, as Mia quietly took it all.

Mia was everything I was not—gentle, sensible, and obedient. She could make Aunt Lorie and Uncle Dan laugh with just a few well-chosen words. Everyone in the Donovan Family adored her, except for James.

At first, James looked down on Mia, seeing her as nothing more than a rustic girl.

Since Mia transferred to the class where James and I were studying, James began to bully her relentlessly, finding every opportunity to embarrass her.

Despite the harsh treatment she faced at school, Mia never mentioned it when she returned to the Donovan Family. Instead, she showered James with praise in every possible way.

Over time, James' attention and care toward Mia grew, far surpassing any concern he had for me.

I sensed the growing distance between us and, in a desperate attempt to reclaim my place, I began to trouble Mia, thinking that as the future mistress of the Donovan Family, I could put her in her place.

I believed that by doing this, I would make Mia hesitate and somehow win James back. But instead of bringing us closer, everything I did only pushed James further away and gave Mia more opportunities to gain his favor.

I still remember the anniversary of my parents' death this year. James came to me, fuming with anger.

In front of my parents' grave, he pointed at my nose and shouted, "Charlotte, you’ve gone too far! How could you call Mia a bastard?"

His baseless accusation left me stunned. Friends and relatives who had come to pay their respects to my parents quickly stepped in, trying to calm James down.

"I don't know whether Mia is a bastard, but I do know that you're a jinx who killed your own parents," James spat.

The attempts of relatives and friends to calm him down only seemed to fuel his anger, and he insulted me without restraint.

In a burst of frustration and pain, I slapped him across the face. The sharp sound of the impact silenced the moment, leaving Uncle Dan and Aunt Lorie, who were standing beside him, frozen in shock.

"James, you say this to me in front of my parents' grave? Do you have any conscience left?"

James, stunned by the slap, raised his hand to retaliate, but Uncle Dan and Aunt Lorie quickly motioned for the bodyguards to step in and pull him away.

On the way back to the Donovan Family villa, Uncle Dan turned to me with a cold expression. "Charlotte, you were too impulsive today. You shouldn't have said that about Mia, and you definitely shouldn't have slapped James in front of so many people."

I quickly denied it, not wanting him to misunderstand me. "I didn’t say that."

But when I saw the deep helplessness and disgust in his eyes, I realized that my words and actions had already left their mark.

Once home, I locked myself in my room and refused to eat or drink. For three days, Aunt Cecille—whom I had brought with me from the Wilson Family—was the only one to visit.

"Miss, calm down. This isn’t the Wilson Family," she said, her eyes red from concern.

I looked at her, voice shaky. "Aunt Cecille, where are James and the others?"

Her hesitation made me press harder. "Tell me, where did they go?"

"They went to celebrate Miss Anderson’s birthday," Aunt Cecille replied reluctantly.

"Miss Anderson? Who is Miss Anderson? How come I don’t know anything about her?"

Aunt Cecille seemed panicked, kneeling before me. "Miss, please, this is the Donovan Family. Just lower your head for now. Please beg Mr. Donovan to marry quickly, or… sooner or later…"

I remained silent, unshaken by her pleas. Seeing that I wasn’t moved, Aunt Cecille sighed, left the food by my door, and walked out, shaking her head.

I felt an overwhelming sense of grievance when I saw the cold leftovers left by Aunt Cecille. But how could I, someone who had always prided myself on being strong, bow to James? Let alone beg the Donovan Family to rush my marriage to him.

But everything changed when I witnessed that scene with my own eyes. I couldn’t sit still any longer. Determined, I pushed every possible avenue to advance the date of my wedding with James. After much effort, it was finally set for a week after New Year's Day.

Recalling that day, an endless wave of anger surged within me, like a raging fire burning away the darkness. As my consciousness cleared, I began to hear the doctor’s voice: "Rescued. Vital signs stable. Transferred to ICU for observation."

In the ICU, surrounded by medical equipment, I suddenly realized that James wasn't as important to me as I once thought.

I called out loudly for the nurse, asking her to help me hold the phone. My hands shook as I dialed the number. The familiar voice on the other end broke through the numbness, and tears welled up in my eyes.

I regretted everything. I wanted to escape it all.

I stayed in the ICU for three days before the Donovan Family finally arrived. Seeing me so frail, Aunt Lorie started to wipe away her tears.

"Don't worry, I'm lucky. I didn’t die," I said coldly, pushing away her sympathy.

"Charlotte, don't say that. You will definitely get better," Aunt Lorie said, her voice soft as she fed me porridge. But I could no longer detect any trace of genuine heartache in her eyes.

When I stayed silent, she tried to explain herself. "I thought you were celebrating the New Year with James. I didn't know you had an accident. James was supposed to come today, but there are some things at the company he needs to handle personally. He'll come to see you tomorrow."

"I'm tired and want to rest. Please leave for now," I said, my voice flat.

Seeing that I wasn’t moved, Aunt Lorie placed the bowl of porridge down and left.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my friends' circle.

To my surprise, James had taken Mia to Uncle Dan. In the photo, they were hugging each other, looking every bit like a couple in love. As I stared at their smiling faces, I couldn't help but feel that they looked so perfect together.

A message popped up on Instagram: "When are you being discharged? I’ll book your flight."

"About a week. I’ll book the earliest flight in seven days."

After replying, I set my phone down, lost in thought about the arrangements I needed to make before leaving the country.

The next day, James stood in front of me, looking reluctant, as Aunt Lorie had urged him to come.