In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold.

"Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold.

"Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

Celia rose to her feet, her head still lowered, remaining silent. She didn’t respond, and Lucas didn’t leave either. After a while, she finally spoke in a low voice, “I needed to talk to you earlier.”

“What for? You’re standing here perfectly fine. What could possibly be so urgent?”

Her explanation failed to earn his understanding.

Instead, his tone grew colder. “Didn’t I tell you Yvonne isn’t feeling well and that I’d be with her all day? What’s the point of you doing this on purpose? Celia, I’ve told you before not to harbor those improper thoughts about me. I’m your uncle—it’s impossible! If you pull something like this again, you’ll have to move out.”

With that, Lucas went straight upstairs, slamming the door behind him as he entered his room.

Downstairs, Celia remained standing, quietly watching his retreating figure.

After a moment, she softly murmured, “Uncle, I’m sorry. There won’t be a next time. Because... I’m already dead.”

Her voice was barely audible, and Lucas, already upstairs, didn’t hear her words.

Celia didn’t seem to care.

She sat back on the sofa, lost in thought, memories surfacing uncontrollably.

Lucas wasn’t her biological uncle but a close friend of her father’s.

From a young age, she had loved clinging to him, calling him “Brother.”

Every time, Lucas would patiently correct her.

“Not brother, call me Uncle.”

The year she finally switched to calling him “Uncle” was when she was eight. Her parents were killed in a tragic car accident, leaving her orphaned.

Lucas took her in and brought her to his home.

She became the cherished bloom in his life, showered with his undivided care and devotion.

When she first arrived at the Shaw residence, being in an unfamiliar place left her anxious and sleepless night after night. Lucas would juggle his demanding work schedule while patiently staying up to coax her to sleep.

Her frail health had plagued her since childhood, her life sustained by constant medication. When she turned twelve, the rest of the Shaw family, unhappy with Lucas for raising what they called a “draining burden,” insisted he send her away.

Lucas refused. He was willing to leave the Shaw family estate and set up his own home just to keep her with him.

Later, Lucas singlehandedly founded SQ Corporation, building it into a company rivaling the Shaw Group’s stature. Only then did relations between Lucas and the rest of the Shaw family begin to ease.

When she was fifteen, Celia joined a school-organized field trip, only to encounter a sudden landslide that nearly claimed her life. In her most desperate moment, Lucas risked everything, venturing deep into the treacherous mountains to rescue her.

From a young age, whatever she wanted—no matter how outlandish, even the stars in the sky—Lucas would agree without hesitation to fetch them for her.

But the memory that left the deepest impression on Celia was from the year her parents had just passed away. Her body was exceptionally frail, and one time, she fell seriously ill with a high fever, remaining unconscious for three days in the hospital.

When she woke up, fear overwhelmed her.

She clung to Lucas, crying so hard she could barely breathe, her voice trembling as she asked, “Uncle, am I going to die?”

At that time, he said, “Celia, as long as I’m here, no one can take you away from me. Not even the King of the Underworld himself—if he tries, I’ll snatch you back.”

He made that promise with unwavering conviction, and for the next ten years, he truly protected her, from the age of eight to eighteen. No matter how difficult things became, he never once considered giving up on her.

But today, when a burglar broke into the house and stabbed her over a dozen times, Celia called him repeatedly, only for him to reject every single call to care for Yvonne Jones, who had a fever.

Yvonne had entered their lives three months earlier.

On the night it happened, Celia had stolen a kiss while Lucas was asleep.

He woke up unexpectedly, his expression cold as he demanded to know what she was doing.

When he caught her in the act, Celia decided to confess her feelings boldly.

But all she received in return was his outright rejection, his gaze filled with disbelief and disapproval.

To make her give up entirely, he began going on frequent blind dates.

Finally, he brought Yvonne, a woman who seemed perfect in every way, into their lives and flaunted their intimacy before her daily.

When Celia died, she had made countless phone calls to him.

Yvonne had even answered one. But just as Celia was about to plead for help, Yvonne’s voice interrupted her from the other end.

“Celia, is something wrong? Lucas is making oatmeal for me right now and doesn’t have time to answer your call.”

Before Celia could respond, Yvonne hung up.

At that moment, as the call disconnected, Celia took her last breath. Even after death, her soul lingered, consumed by an unyielding fixation. The anomaly did not escape the King of the Underworld’s notice, and he sought her out. It was then she struck a deal with him.

In exchange for her soul being obliterated and barred from reincarnation forever, she bargained for seven days to return to the mortal world and settle her affairs.

Celia walked to the calendar hanging on the wall. If Lucas had been observant, he would have noticed this calendar only had seven days.

She tore off a page, her voice soft as she murmured, “Uncle, today marks the first day of my farewell to you.”

The next morning, Celia rose early and left the house to settle her affairs.

Her death had been abrupt, and it wasn’t until last night, after hours of searching online, that she realized how many loose ends needed tying up.

But now that Lucas had someone he wanted to build a new family with, as his adopted daughter, she felt like nothing more than a burden. She didn’t want to leave him with the trouble of dealing with her aftermath.

At the registry office, when she explained that she wanted to terminate her own records, the clerk was incredulous and confirmed with her repeatedly.

“Miss, a record can only be terminated when someone passes away. Are you sure about this?”

Celia forced a wry smile and nodded. “I’ll be gone from this world in six days.”

Hearing this, the clerk assumed she had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. They gave her a look of pity, then glanced at her file and shook their head regretfully.

She was only eighteen.

The clerk didn’t press further and proceeded with her request.

After canceling her records, Celia arranged for a memorial portrait, purchased a casket, and even picked out a funeral outfit for herself. At each stop, she encountered curious or pitying looks, but she paid them no mind.

Her only thought was to ensure everything was arranged perfectly, so Lucas wouldn’t have to trouble himself with any of it later.

By the time she returned home, it was already evening. As she stepped through the door, she spotted Yvonne in the kitchen, wearing an apron and busying herself with dinner preparations.

Yvonne greeted her warmly as she walked in. “Celia, you’re back! I cooked tonight and was waiting for you to eat together.”

Noticing the bags in Celia’s hand, Yvonne’s curiosity piqued. “What did you buy?”

Celia shook her head without answering and headed upstairs to put her things away. Once everything was stored, she came back down and joined Yvonne in the kitchen.

“Let me help you.”

The two worked together in the kitchen for a while, chatting pleasantly. When Lucas returned, the villa was peaceful. There were no arguments or tense silences, only a surprisingly harmonious atmosphere.

Seeing this, Lucas couldn’t hide his astonishment. He knew Celia’s feelings for him all too well—her emotions were always written plainly on her face. In the past, she would never have gotten along with Yvonne so amicably.

Now, dinner was ready, and the three of them sat down at the dining table. They began their meal together in an unexpectedly calm and cordial manner.

During dinner, Yvonne remained exceptionally warm and attentive, frequently adding food to Celia’s plate.

“Celia, try this shrimp. It’s especially tender. I made it just for you.”

As her plate piled high with food, Celia hesitated. Though she now had a physical form, she was, after all, no longer among the living.

When she struck her deal with the King of the Underworld, he explicitly told her that during these seven days, while she could remain in the mortal world, she was forbidden from consuming human food.

Her hesitation was obvious, and she continued to avoid eating the dishes Yvonne served her.

Seeing this, Lucas noticed Yvonne’s growing awkwardness. His gaze hardened as he shot Celia a warning look.

“Yvonne made this for you. Eat it,” he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.

Celia stayed silent but eventually picked up her plate, forcing herself to eat the food in front of her.

The moment the food slid down her throat, a searing pain erupted in her stomach as if her insides were being scorched by fire. Unable to endure it, she bolted for the bathroom, retching violently until the pain subsided slightly.

The sudden commotion left Yvonne teary-eyed, her voice tinged with grievance as she turned to Lucas. “Does Celia not like me?”

At her words, Lucas’s expression darkened. He patted Yvonne’s hand in reassurance. “Of course she likes you. Let me check on her.”

He stood and followed after Celia.

In the bathroom, Celia leaned against the sink, the pain in her stomach gradually easing. She glanced at her pale reflection in the mirror and exhaled softly.

It seemed her condition wouldn’t allow this after all. Perhaps she should find an excuse to leave the table soon.

With that thought, she turned and opened the bathroom door, only to find Lucas standing outside, his expression stormy.

Celia froze, assuming he was there out of concern. Gathering herself, she spoke up. “Uncle, I’m not feeling well. You should go back and finish dinner. I’ll just head upstairs to rest.”

She expected him to return to Yvonne after her explanation.

Instead, his face darkened further, and when he finally spoke, his words left her stunned.

“When I saw you and Yvonne getting along earlier, I thought you’d finally learned to behave. But it turns out you’re still up to your old tricks—throwing tantrums just to embarrass her.”

“Uncle, I wasn’t…” Her face grew even paler, a sharp ache spreading through her chest. She forced a faint smile, trying to explain herself, but he coldly interrupted her before she could finish.

“I don’t care what your excuse is. You’ll go back and finish that meal.”

Without another word, Lucas grabbed Celia’s arm and dragged her back to the dining table, firmly seating her in a chair before returning to Yvonne’s side.

Celia glanced up at him, watching as he tenderly soothed Yvonne. When he noticed her gaze, he turned to glare at her, a silent warning in his eyes.

Swallowing her bitterness, Celia picked up her plate and, despite the searing pain in her stomach, forced herself to eat every bite.

Tears fell silently onto her plate as she lowered her head. Each mouthful felt like swallowing fire, the burning sensation crawling down her throat and mingling with the salty sting of her tears. She couldn’t tell which hurt more—her stomach or her heart.

The meal dragged on in strained silence, with Celia enduring her agony while Lucas and Yvonne shared their intimate exchanges.

Finally, it was over.

Just as Celia set down her utensils, the sound of a car pulling up outside broke the tension.

“That must be my things arriving!” Yvonne exclaimed with a bright smile as she rushed toward the door.

Lucas turned to Celia, his tone flat but firm. “From now on, Yvonne will be living here with us.”

He watched her closely as if expecting an outburst or a refusal. His expression seemed to say he wouldn’t tolerate any objection.

But Celia, who had already cried herself dry earlier, had long since calmed herself down. She nodded calmly. “I understand.”

Her composed reaction took Lucas by surprise, leaving him unsettled. A strange unease crept into his chest, but before he could dwell on it, Yvonne returned, naturally slipping her arm through his.

“Lucas, which room will I be staying in?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Lucas offered her a doting smile. “Let me show you around. You can choose any room you like.”

The three of them went upstairs, accompanying Yvonne as she picked a room. After asking where Lucas’ bedroom was, she walked straight toward the room next to his.

Watching her head toward that direction, Celia felt a sudden sense of foreboding and hurried after her.

When she stepped into the room, she saw Yvonne looking around before heading straight to the wardrobe.

“Lucas, I think this room is perfect. I’ll take it,” Yvonne announced, her hand reaching for the wardrobe door.

Panicked, Celia rushed forward, blocking her movement before she could open it.

“No! This is my room. I won’t allow it.”

Seeing Celia’s intense reaction, Lucas frowned instinctively and scolded her. “What’s with this reckless behavior? If Yvonne likes this room, just let her have it. I’ll have the staff clean out another room for you.”

But no matter what he said, Celia stayed put, her back pressed firmly against the wardrobe, refusing to give in.

Frustration flashed across Lucas’ face as he forced himself to suppress his growing anger. “I swear, I’ve spoiled you so much you’ve forgotten your place!”

The tension between them grew, neither willing to budge until Yvonne finally intervened to diffuse the situation. “It’s alright, Lucas. If Celia doesn’t want to give it up, I’ll just choose another room.”

Lucas glanced at Celia, still stubbornly guarding the wardrobe, and let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fine. If she won’t give it up, then you can just stay with me.”

Hearing that, Yvonne blushed and shyly buried her face against his chest. Without another word, Lucas wrapped an arm around her and led her out of the room.

As they left, Celia caught a glimpse of Yvonne glancing down at her hand, puzzled. “That’s strange. There’s blood on my hand, but I don’t think I’m hurt…”

Moments later, Lucas ordered the staff to move Yvonne’s belongings into his room. The house buzzed with activity as staff members carried luggage back and forth, but Celia paid no attention. Her hands trembled as she quickly shut the wardrobe door again.

Only Celia knew where the blood on Yvonne’s hand had come from— it was from the wardrobe.

Inside the wardrobe was her own lifeless body.

Celia locked the door to her room and pulled out a roll of duct tape, securing the wardrobe tightly shut. The King of the Underworld had warned her: if her body was discovered before her seven days were up, she would vanish prematurely.

Once everything was sealed, she let out a shaky breath and went to the living room to pour herself a glass of water.

On her way back, she passed Lucas’ room. Through the slightly ajar door, she glimpsed Lucas and Yvonne locked in a passionate kiss.

She froze for a moment, her grip tightening around the glass. Closing her eyes, she turned away, unwilling to look any longer.

Walking straight to the calendar on the wall, she tore off another page of the countdown.