After my family went bankrupt, I was sent to the bed of Capital City's newest power player.

He locked me in his room for two weeks. Two weeks of him taking what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Until I got pregnant.

The day after the doctor confirmed it, he drove my parents to the rooftop.

I knelt at his feet, forehead striking the floor again and again, begging him—for the baby's sake—to let them live.

He looked down at me like I was filth.

"Eight years ago, if your mother hadn't seduced my father, my mother wouldn't have lost control and killed him." His voice was ice. "She wouldn't have stood on that eighteenth-floor ledge in despair. She was pregnant, did you know that?"

His gaze dropped to my stomach. The cold in his eyes could have frozen blood.

"Now it's just one life for another."

I broke after that. He had me declared mentally unstable and locked away in the psychiatric hospital. Every day was a new kind of torture.

Until his precious little canary got pregnant. Then he had me brought back.

"Rebecca Fox used to be your family's housekeeper's daughter," Mason Blackwell said. "Now she's carrying my child. It's your turn to serve her."

This time, I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

Because I was already dying.

But after I actually died? That man who hated me to the bone—he wept and begged me to come back to him.

——

I wiped the blood from my lips and had just swallowed my painkillers when the door exploded inward.

Mason seized my wrist, his expression glacial.

"Chloe Harding." Each syllable was a blade. "You knew Rebecca is allergic to flowers. And you still filled the living room with them?"

His grip tightened until my bones ground together.

"Don't think that because I spared your life, I still have feelings for you. If you try anything against Rebecca—" His voice dropped to something lethal. "I will end you."

Before I could speak, he forced a handful of soybeans into my mouth.

"You wanted to trigger her allergies?" A cruel smile. "Let's see how you like it first."

The beans lodged in my throat. I choked, coughing violently.

Mason's brow furrowed. His hand moved toward the water glass—

Then stopped.

Instead, he slammed his palm against my back. The force sent me crashing into the table. Something in my ribs cracked.

The soybeans slid down into my stomach. Within a minute, my face swelled, the allergic reaction visible in real-time.

I felt nothing.

No—I chose to feel nothing.

I raised my hand and slapped myself across the face.

"I'm sorry. I failed to take proper care of Miss Fox. I'll remove the flowers immediately."

I didn't defend myself.

What was the point? In his eyes, I was already damned beyond redemption.

From the moment I returned to the Blackwell estate, Rebecca had made a game of humiliating me. Mason never saw it. Or maybe he just didn't care.

When Rebecca accidentally spilled soup on the floor, Mason made me kneel and lick it clean.

When she dropped her ring into the pool, he forced me into the frozen water in the dead of winter. Two hours. I nearly died.

Even those flowers—Rebecca had ordered them placed there herself. Just to see what Mason would do to me.

And now he stared at me, disgust carving deep lines into his face.

"Don't think bowing your head makes this go away, Chloe." His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "Rebecca is seven months pregnant. Your little stunt nearly made her miscarry."

He stepped closer.

"You're going to kneel in the memorial hall. You'll stay there until she's discharged from the hospital. I don't care if it takes days."

I nodded. My body was already broken—what was a little more?

I turned toward the door, dragging myself forward.

His hand shot out, yanking me back.

"You did this." His grip was bruising. "And now you're putting on this pathetic act? Who exactly is this performance for?"

I met Mason's bloodshot eyes and caught my reflection in them—a fleeting, ghostly glimpse.

For a moment, I saw us at eighteen again.

Back then, I never imagined we'd end up here.

I had loved him once. And hated him too.

On the day I first became a mother, he dragged me into hell.

He made me watch as my own mother pushed my father off a building.

Then he forced her to confess her crimes to my face—before she threw herself after him.

After that, he locked me away in the psychiatric hospital. Broke me down, over and over.

The child in my womb was the only hope I had left.

But when I was seven months pregnant, Mason had me strapped to an operating table.

"When my mother died, the baby inside her was seven months along too. Your family owed her one last life. Now we're even."

I begged. I screamed. I wanted to die with my child.

Mason had them bind my hands and feet.

"Your life belongs to me. You don't get to die without my permission."

The memories crashed over me. My head dropped lower.

"I'm sorry."

Mason grabbed my collar and yanked me up.

"Chloe, isn't this what you wanted? To compete with Rebecca for my attention?" His lip curled. "Fine. I'll give you the chance."

Before I could react, he kissed me—hard, brutal, knowing full well I was allergic.

Then he shoved me away.

His eyes raked over me with cold contempt.

"Chloe Harding. You're nothing special after all."

"Someone like you doesn't deserve love. You exist to atone. That's all."

He stepped over me and walked away without looking back.

I clutched the medical report in my pocket.

And laughed.

Pancreatic cancer. Late stage.

The doctor said I had a week. Maybe less.

I watched his retreating figure and finally exhaled.

This penance is almost over.

I knelt through the night.

By the next day, Mason finally returned to the Blackwell estate—with Rebecca in his arms.

When they passed the memorial hall, he stopped.

His gaze landed on my face, now covered in angry red welts from the allergic reaction. His brow furrowed.

"Chloe. Rebecca wants congee. Made by your hands."

"And if you pull any tricks this time—if you hurt her or the baby—" His voice dropped, glacial. "I won't show mercy."

I looked at Rebecca's swollen belly, rounded and ripe.

I pressed my forehead to the cold stone floor.

"I understand. Caring for Miss Fox is my duty. I wouldn't dare do anything untoward."

Rebecca gazed down at me—broken, kneeling, pathetic—and her face bloomed with satisfaction.

"Oh, sister." She drew out the word like a blade. "I heard that when you lost your baby, it was seven months along too." She rested a hand on her belly. "You wouldn't want me to end up like you, would you?"

Mason let out a cold laugh.

"Someone like her was never fit to carry my child."

"That baby was a blood debt her family owed mine. Nothing more."

I lowered my head until my forehead touched the ground.

I had never denied it. My family owed the Blackwells a debt that could never be repaid.

I still remembered the day his parents died—how Mason's hands closed around my throat, squeezing, trembling.

His eyes were red-rimmed, swimming with tears.

"Do you have any idea? If your mother hadn't seduced my father—if she hadn't sent those photos to my mother—none of this would have happened."

"My mother was seven months pregnant. Seven months. That was my little sister. She never even got to see the world."

"How can I not hate you, Chloe? I want to kill you."

He spoke the cruelest words.

But his hands... they slowly loosened.

He knelt on the ground, his palms marked with the crescents of his own nails.

I knew—from the moment his parents died.

Our love had curdled into nothing but endless hatred.

A war that would only end when one of us stopped breathing.

I kept my head bowed as Mason walked past me, Rebecca cradled in his arms.

Clatter.

A small box landed at my feet.

Allergy medication.

I'd been born with hypersensitive skin—my list of triggers could fill a medical textbook. When Mason first learned about it, he'd started carrying these pills everywhere.

I picked up the box, popped it open, and placed a white tablet on my tongue.

Bitterness flooded my mouth instantly.

Just like my wretched life.

The red welts on my skin began to fade. I struggled to my feet and made my way to the kitchen.

Once the congee was ready, I carried it up to the second floor. I was about to enter when I heard voices drifting through the door—low, intimate.

"Mason, why do you keep that woman around? The one who killed your whole family?" Rebecca's voice dripped with false concern. "Don't tell me you still have feelings for her."

I heard the soft pop of a button being undone.

"I keep her close for a reason." Mason's voice was flat, unreadable. "To torment her. Day and night. So she can never live, never die—only remember the debt her family owes me. Forever."

A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

My grip on the door handle tightened until my knuckles went white.

I know.

This hatred will only end when I'm dead.

Good thing I'll be gone soon.

That night, I was heading back to my room when a sound split the sky.

Fireworks.

Brilliant cascades of light bloomed across the darkness. I stood there, transfixed by the fleeting glow.

Then a voice slithered up behind me—familiar and razor-edged.

"Beautiful, aren't they? The fireworks made from your family's ashes?"

I spun around.

Rebecca's eyes gleamed with triumph.

My pupils contracted. "What did you just say?"

She sauntered closer, lifting one manicured finger toward the bursting colors overhead.

"A monk told me your family's vengeful spirits were haunting my baby. That's why I've been so unwell." She smiled, serene as a saint. "He said the only way to protect my child was to deal with your family properly."

She paused, savoring the moment.

"So I had your parents' ashes—and your baby's—made into fireworks. To bless my child." Her smile widened. "And to make sure their souls never find peace. Not in this life. Not in the next."

I lurched forward, a scream tearing from my throat.

"Why? Why would you do this to them? My parents—whatever their sins—they helped you once! Why couldn't you let them rest in death? Why scatter their bones to the wind?"

My hand hadn't even touched her when she crumpled backward.

The next second, a crushing force slammed into me.

Mason caught Rebecca in his arms, his gaze slicing into me like a blade.

"Chloe." His voice was ice. "I warned you. Touch her again, and I will end you."

I stared at him—at the hatred carved into every line of his face—and something inside me finally shattered.

I fell to my knees before him.

"Mason." My voice cracked. "I'll do anything you want. Anything. Just—please—let my family keep one shred of dignity. That's all I'm asking."

He went still.

Rebecca immediately wound her arm through his.

"Mason, when I was hospitalized for the baby, I visited the chapel. The monk said vengeful spirits were latched onto us—that the only way to protect our child was to grind their bones to dust and scatter them so they'd never reincarnate." She pressed closer to him. "That's why I had her family's ashes made into fireworks."

I bowed my head to the floor. Once. Twice. Again and again, until my forehead burned.

"Mason. Every sin is mine. Mine. They're already dead—let the debt die with them." My voice broke into a sob. "I'll bear all your hatred. Every last drop. Just... please... leave their remains in peace?"