Anyone who betrayed me had only one ending in my hands—death.

But that day, the rain fell too heavily, too muddied.

And I hesitated.

My father’s final words were:

“Sweetheart, it’s fine if you were crazy before. But from now on, you must treat Adrian as the sharpest knife in your hand.”

The day my father died, it was Adrian who, heedless of his own life, wiped out every rival in a single bloody night.

He elevated me to the rightful throne of the Crime Boss.

The downpour of blood splattered across him as Adrian wiped it from his face, like a demon risen from hell.

Without hesitation, he handed me the Family Crest Medallion that symbolized leadership.

“Coco, what’s yours will always be yours—no one can take it away.”

In Newport City, in the dreaded underworld, within the Hayes family’s territory—

True loyalty was the cheapest, and yet the most precious thing of all.

I ejected the magazine, kicked him into the mud.

Forbade anyone from covering him with an umbrella.

Let the rain drench him pale.

“Come back when you’re clean.”

“Adrian, there will never be a next time.”

For the next three years, whenever Adrian was in Newport City, he always came home before ten.

He gave me a yacht named after me, anchored in Hudson Bay, set to sail only for me.

He brought my favorite singer to Madison Square Garden, holding a private concert just for me.

We kissed atop Twin Peaks Hill, and wandered alleys for nothing more than a glass of iced lemon tea.

Everyone in Newport City feared Adrian.

But they all admitted one thing—Adrian loved me deeply.

Yet when I saw that woman’s unchanging smirk, I knew.

Adrian didn’t love me deeply—he had simply learned how to protect her better.

The hatred dragged my heart down like molten lead.

As my father said, Adrian was a good knife.

But the hand gripping him was not mine.

I wiped away my tears, pulling out the gun I hadn’t touched in three years.

The first shot shattered our wedding photo.

The glass split down the middle, separating Adrian’s hand from mine.

The second shot pierced the helm of the “Victoria,” our yacht on Hudson Bay.

Our love could never restart.

The third shot destroyed the TV replaying the Madison Square Garden concert.

I wanted no love tainted with pretense.

Clara had calculated everything perfectly—except one thing.

Even if a madwoman pretends to be tame, she’s still a madwoman.

What’s mine can only ever be mine.

Either obey me—or die.

The day the U.S. media exposed my marital scandal with Adrian, the yacht “Victoria” was publicly auctioned.

One clueless bidder shouted, “One dollar!”

I grabbed the mic, thrilled as the gavel fell.

“One dollar—it’s yours!”

When the butler handed over the transfer papers in front of everyone, I received a call from Adrian.

“Coco, what game are you playing with me now?”

“Do you want those mansions on the hill, or that crown from the auction? Say the word, I’ll even pluck the stars for you.”

Adrian’s way of coaxing could truly intoxicate.

But the sweeter the words, the more poisonous they felt.

I narrowed my eyes, glancing at the message just sent by my men.

“I want nothing—except for you to come back.”

“And play this game properly with me.”

Adrian came home three days after the scandal broke.

Flying back from Switzerland, almost at the fastest speed possible.

The moment he stepped through the door, Mr. Harris pressed a gun into his hand.

He carried his suitcase, staring at me in confusion.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

I toyed with the grip of my pistol, eyes sharp, beckoning him closer.

The next second, my men dragged Clara forward.

After days of hunger, she still held her head high the instant she saw Adrian.

She defied me fearlessly, shouting, “Victoria Hayes, I’m not afraid of you!”

“If you dare touch me, Adrian will never forgive you!”

I rose lazily from my chair, watching Adrian’s blood-red eyes.

Then shoved the barrel of my gun against Clara’s mouth.

Ignoring her struggles, I tilted my head toward Adrian.

“Two choices: kill her yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

I smiled faintly, my nails trailing across her cheek.

“Only then, her death won’t be so pretty.”

Across the long mahogany table, Adrian’s fury gradually cooled.

He met my gaze with icy calm.

“And what if I choose neither?”

“Victoria, are you really going to go against me?”

At that moment, my brow twitched.

Adrian already knew my answer.

Since we were ten, Adrian had always been the one to take care of me quietly.

Ruthless to outsiders, soft as a saint to me.

The only times he ever confronted me were when I crossed his bottom line.

When I lost control, pulled a gun at the wrong time.

He couldn’t stop me, but he also couldn’t bear to knock me out.

Instead, he threw his own body in front of those who had broken my taboos.

“Coco, if you have to shoot, shoot me.”

“Don’t hesitate.”

My aim was notorious in the underworld.

Adrian didn’t fear death—he’d point at his own head.

More than once, my finger pulled the trigger, the muzzle smoking.

Adrian closed his eyes, and somehow the bullets always missed.

When I finally threw the gun aside in frustration, he would rush forward and hold me.

Using his body to steady me.

Eyes full of irrepressible joy.

“Be good, I know you won’t hurt me.”

I’d bite his hand in rage, showing my ferocity.

“Adrian, try using yourself as leverage one more time!”

But Adrian never listened. He always shielded others.

Sometimes I thought Adrian was sent from above to suppress me.

Without him, I’d have been killed by my enemies dozens of times, buried beside my father.

But this time, the person he wanted to protect couldn’t be saved.

“Adrian, since you won’t choose, I’ll choose for you.”

I pressed the barrel into Clara’s palate.

Her mind went blank, nearly fainting from terror.

“I’ll give you three seconds…”

“Three…”

Faster than the countdown was Adrian’s move.

He twisted Harris’s arm, pressing the gun to his temple.

For Clara, Adrian dared to threaten my man.

A man who had raised me, prepared everything for me, practically like my own uncle.

Fury tore through me. “Let him go, Adrian!”

His jaw tightened, unable to meet my eyes.

“Give Clara back to me.”

“Please, Coco.”

Even at that moment, he still called me by my nickname.

Was it to make me feel even more disgusted?

I forced down the surge of hatred in my gut and leveled the gun at Clara’s left leg from the small of my back.

With a bang, blood sprayed across my cheek.

Ignoring the red haze in my eyes, I roared,

“Adrian, you know exactly how insane I am!”

“I swear, if you lay one more finger on Harris, she’ll die even worse!”

My finger rested on the trigger. I watched Adrian’s startled gaze and smiled.

I was betting he’d relent—beg for peace.

But the moment I yanked Clara by the hair,

a bullet tore through the palm of my right hand.

The drilling pain flooded my brain a breath too late.

The gaping hole was so deep I could see bone, shredded flesh sloughing off like pus with torn tendons.

As I trembled from the agony, Adrian’s men burst through the door.

The roses he had planted for me were trampled into the dirt under their boots.

He scooped Clara into his arms—payback for those eighteen stabs three years ago.

“The second time, Coco.”

“No matter how much I indulge you, I will never allow Clara to fall in front of me again!”

Adrian rushed out with the woman.

His men formed a wary circle around me, not sparing a glance for the bloody crater in my right hand.

Jaw clenched, I collapsed bonelessly onto the sofa.

I stared at my right hand, the fingers refusing to curl no matter how I tried—despair swallowing me whole.

No one knew better than Adrian how much I’d paid to hold my place in the underworld, licking blood from the knife’s edge.

I’d held a gun since seven, won the shooting championship in Newport City’s underground, and survived countless close calls with this hand.

My bullets were the noose around our enemies’ necks, the ladder beneath my feet.

Now it was ruined.

Nearly twenty years—gratitude or hatred, it no longer mattered.

Adrian, there is no “later” for us.

When the doctor came to stabilize me, Adrian’s people let him through, no resistance.

After a rough dressing, the doctor’s face turned grim.

“You need surgery immediately.”

“Ms. Hayes, even if you never hold a gun again, we must ensure it doesn’t affect your daily life.”

“Any further delay and you could lose the hand!”

I said nothing and pushed myself toward the door.

I was stopped at the front entrance of my own mansion.

“Mr. Cole has given orders. Ms. Ward’s surgery isn’t finished.”

“Ma’am, you can’t leave yet.”

Through the carved door, I stared at the layers of men surrounding the estate—and fell silent.

Adrian truly lived up to his so-called “knight’s code” in the underworld.

To save Clara’s life, he would do anything—

even if it meant turning me into a cripple from this day on and handing over generations of the Hayes empire.

I gave a cold laugh and dialed Adrian in front of everyone.

“Adrian, I’m leaving. I’m getting treatment.”

Silence for a few seconds on the line. Then his voice went cold.

“Wait.”

“Clara’s still in emergency care—the bullet hasn’t been removed.”

“Coco, if I let you out now, do you think she’ll survive?”

Everyone in Newport City knew I paid back blood for blood.

His men straightened at once, guns raised to block my way.

“Ma’am, don’t make this harder on us.”

Sweat beaded down my forehead.

I dropped the phone and said, ice-cold, “Hayes family, listen to my order.”

“Kill anyone who dares stand in your way today.”

I drew a long-unused combat knife from my back.

Bloodshot-eyed, I let go of reason completely.

Anyone who blocked me—I slashed for their throat and heart without hesitation.