I began packing my luggage. Moments later, Frank rushed in, panic evident on his face. "Ms. Rossi, have you seen the news?"

I pulled out my phone to check the trending news. Then, I saw the top finance headline in bold text.

"Leon Vincent's Ward, Isabella Rossi, Accused of Repaying Kindness With Betrayal—Suspected of Leaking Core Pharmaceutical Data, Causing Vincent Group Over 100 Million Dollars in Losses."

The accompanying image was my university ID photo. The next news alert immediately took over the screen.

"Socialite Elena Harrington Hospitalized Due to Emotional Distress as Vincent Group Stock Plunges—Blamed on Betrayal by Leon Vincent's Ward, Isabella Rossi."

The photo showed her in a hospital gown, leaning weakly near a window with tears in her eyes. Her talent for drama and framing was unreal.

I switched off my phone, folded the last outfit I had packed, and put it into my suitcase.

Subsequently, I learned that the Drake family, Vincent Group's business rivals, who had long coveted the latter's shares, had seized the moment to strike. They demanded Leon publicly sever ties with me immediately, or they would cancel a multi-billion-dollar deal.

At that moment, Elena's call came through to Leon's phone.

She cried, pleading, "Leon, for the sake of the Vincent family, you must cut ties with her! Tell everyone she has nothing to do with you and with us! If you don't, the company's finished!"

At 3:00 pm, Leon held an emergency press conference. Facing the media, he made a public statement. "We deeply regret Ms. Isabella Rossi's actions. Everything she did was purely personal and had nothing to do with me or the Vincent family.

"From this moment on, I'm officially terminating all guardianship over her. Given the 12 years I acted as her guardian, I won't pursue any legal action against her."

I stared at the TV screen and at the man I had loved for ten years. Right now, he felt like a complete stranger.

I picked up a pen and wrote on the last label stuck to the safe: 99/99.

"This is the last time, Leon. We're even now."

What flashed through my mind at that moment was the fire at the orphanage 12 years ago. He had come through the flames like some kind of angel and pulled me out, saving my life.

He sent me to the best schools, let me study medicine, which I loved the most, and watched me hold up that trophy I had worked so hard for—the same one he was once proud of.

I still remembered the way he had cupped my face, looking so serious when he vowed, "Once the time comes, we'll get married. I'll give you the grandest wedding in all of New Lyon and make you the happiest woman in the world."

We had a deal, a 99-debt contract. Once he either abandoned or commanded me 99 times, the debt would be settled.

For years, he never used a single one. But in just two short years after I turned 18, he abandoned me 99 times. Now, he had pushed me away for good and made me lose our baby, just to protect another woman.

As the final touch, he reciprocated with the most public, brutal humiliation possible. My heart died right along with that unborn child.

I opened the drawer and took out the documents I had already prepared—my ID and passport. Then, I picked up a silver box, which consisted of the broken trophy, the abortion report, and the ledger page marked "99". Along with the key to the safe, I handed it all to Frank, who was waiting at the door.

I didn't keep a single thing Leon gave me.

I turned to Frank and said, "Please tell Mr. Vincent the debt has been paid."

I glanced one last time at the luxurious penthouse I had lived in for 12 years and added, "And tell him I never want to see him again."

A plain sedan carried me away, headed for the port. There, a medical research vessel bound for Azara awaited me.

…

Night fell, and Leon returned to the penthouse.

The lights, once always left on for him, were now off. The person who used to wait for him, no matter how late, was gone.

For the first time, the air felt suffocatingly still. He looked around, then snapped at Frank, "Where's Isabella? Why isn't she home?"

Frank, eyes full of sorrow, silently handed over the silver box in his hands. "Mr. Vincent… Ms. Rossi said not to look for her anymore. She left this behind before leaving."

Leon opened the silver box, and the first thing that caught his eye was the shattered trophy. He reached in and pushed the fragments aside, revealing a folded piece of paper underneath.

It was the hospital report for the termination of pregnancy. Beneath that, weighed down by the report, was a torn page from a ledger.

On it, bold, harsh handwriting chronicled every single wound—from the first, all the way to the 99th. At the very end, a heavy, deliberate line read, "99th time: Public execution."

The 99-debt contract he had once used to fool an innocent girl and the 99 gifts he had given had now become marks on my tally of pain.

His hands started trembling uncontrollably. The silver box slipped from his shaking fingers, and the broken trophy pieces and abortion report scattered across the floor.

Leon stood frozen. For the first time, his heart twisted with a strange, ripping agony. A guttural, painful groan escaped his lips.