Early the next morning, Blake got up ahead of time and prepared a full breakfast table himself.

This was one of his usual tactics.

"Helena, come down and eat."

He deliberately sat close beside me.

"Victoria just got back from abroad. She's not familiar with anything yet, which was why I neglected you. I'm free today, so I'll stay home and have a proper meal with you."

As he spoke, he picked up a slice of bacon with his fork and held it to my lips. "Don't be angry. I'll make it up to you for Lily. Whatever you want, I'll buy it for you."

I stared at the bacon, my stomach churning.

He had probably forgotten that bacon was Victoria's favorite.

As for me, after killing too many people, I could no longer stand the sight or smell of meat.

At that moment, Blake's phone rang.

The moment he answered, Victoria's sweet, cloying voice came through. "Blake, look! The puppy really loves the new toy you bought!"

The screen showed a poodle tearing into a rabbit plush.

That was Lily's birthday gift–the one she had begged for three whole months.

Blake had always said he was too busy to buy it.

Even until the day she died, Lily never even got to touch it.

So he was not busy; he had simply bought it for someone else's dog.

Victoria's voice continued, light and cheerful, "Look how happy it is, biting so hard."

I stared at the screen, killing intent rising in my eyes.

Blake noticed my expression and hurriedly ended the call, then quickly explained, "I lost a bet to Victoria again. Her dog's been a little depressed. That toy was just to keep it occupied.

"Oh, don't be so petty, Helena. It's just a toy."

'Just a toy.'

Lily would never play with it again.

As he spoke, he pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it toward me, his tone casual, almost dismissive, "Buy whatever you want for Lily. Ten, a hundred–it doesn't matter. No limit on the card. Consider it compensation for you both."

I looked at him and laughed.

Then, I slowly reached out and picked up the card.

"That's more like it. Be good–"

Crack! I snapped the card in half and threw it into the trash.

Blake's expression froze, then twisted into fury. "Helena! Don't push your luck!"

He slammed his hand against the table and stood up. "If you've got the nerve, don't spend a single cent of mine. From today onward, you don't get a dime from me."

I ignored his shouting and turned to leave.

Back in my room, I took out an encrypted phone and called my father.

"Father, I'm coming back to Sicily. I'm ready to take over the family."

"Are you sure? Once you return, everything in New York will be gone. Can you let go of that man?"

I did not hesitate. "I can."

There was a long silence on the other end.

"Good. That's my daughter. I'll come for you tomorrow."

After hanging up, I removed my wedding ring–along with everything Blake had ever given me–and threw them into the fireplace.

The flames swallowed everything, turning our past into ash.

'Blake, we're done.'

…

The next morning, the bedroom door was pushed open.

Victoria walked in, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

The smile on her face was no longer timid; it was the smile of a victor.

"Still angry, Helena?"

I ignored her, holding the wooden horse that contained Lily's ashes, staring at my daughter's portrait.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Helena, your daughter died such a miserable death.

"That day? Blake was with me, completely lost in it. I saw your call.

"But I hung up. Then I turned off my phone. Are you angry?"

The next second, her wrist tilted.

Hot coffee splashed out, spilling directly over the portrait.

Lily's smiling face blurred instantly.

"Oh no, my hand slipped."

Victoria covered her mouth in mock surprise, her eyes filled with malicious delight.

The last thread of my restraint snapped.

"You're just itching to die."

I shot to my feet, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her onto the coffee table.

Bang!

The table shattered, fragments piercing into her back.

Victoria let out a piercing scream.

I gave her no chance to struggle. I pulled the dagger hidden at my waist and raised it, about to sever her fingers.

"You hung up that call, huh? Then you don't need this hand anymore."

Just as the blade was about to fall, the door burst open.

"Stop!"

Blake rushed in and drove his foot hard into my lower abdomen.

Thump! I was sent flying, crashing heavily against the wall.

After six years together, Blake knew every old injury on my body.

That kick landed precisely where I was weakest. The old wound tore open instantly, and I choked out blood.

Victoria threw herself into his arms, sobbing pitifully. "Blake… I only came to bring Helena a cup of coffee… She lost control and tried to cut off my hand…

"Don't blame her… It's my fault… I shouldn't have come… She's just too upset…

"I'm not hurt, really…"

Blake saw the blood seeping through Victoria's back, and the concern in his eyes was impossible to hide.

"Helena, how could you be so vicious?!

"Victoria is an artist. Her hands are meant for the piano! How could someone like you–who only knows violence–hurt her?!"

I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing myself up against the wall, and wiped the blood from my lips.

"Oh, you'll regret this, Blake. You'll regret not letting me cut off her hand today."

Blake's expression turned dark.

"Since you like fighting so much…"

He raised a hand.

"Take her to the underground ring. Let my men teach her what the rules are."

…

The underground fighting arena reeked of blood and sweat. Huge iron cages surrounded the space, each holding starving, roaring beasts.

I was thrown into the central octagon.

The noise was deafening. The crowd was waiting for a slaughter.

Blake sat in the upper stands with Victoria in his arms, looking down at me from above.

"Helena, kneel and apologize to Victoria now, and I'll let you out. This ends here. You'll still be my wife."

I stood in the cage, my back straight as a spear.

I glanced at them with disdain. "In your dreams."

Blake's face darkened instantly. "You're asking for death."

He gestured coldly. "Teach her the rules. Leave her breathing."

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Victoria's eyes.

Three heavily built Muay Thai champions stepped into the cage.

They looked at me like prey, their lips curling with crude smiles as they lunged forward together.

What Blake did not know was that, since childhood, my father had made me train under masters of combat. I learned skills meant to kill.

Soon, the sound of bones snapping echoed through the arena.

In less than 10 minutes, all three champions lay on the ground, their limbs broken. Not one of them could even cry out.

A flash of shock crossed Blake's eyes.

Perhaps he remembered the day he first saved me, when I was covered in wounds, yet still looked at him like death itself.

Victoria screamed, clutching her chest, trembling. "Blake… I'm scared… My hands won't stop shaking… Will I never be able to play the piano for you again…?"

Blake's face turned cold. He stood abruptly. "All of you–get in there! Don't stop until she apologizes!"

In an instant, over a hundred of his men, armed with clubs, flooded into the cage.

A black mass.

This was no fight; it was a massacre.

A bloodthirsty smile curved at my lips. "Come."

The next several minutes became a nightmare the arena would never forget.

I was covered in blood, yet I crushed my way forward, stepping over bodies, forcing my way out of the cage and straight toward Blake.

I charged toward Victoria, killing intent burning in my eyes. "I'm going to kill you."

Victoria screamed. "Blake! Save me! She's a monster!"

Blake panicked. He had never seen me like this.

He pulled Victoria behind him and raised his gun, aiming at me with trembling hands.

"Helena, I'll wipe out your entire family if you touch her!"

I let out a cold laugh and kept moving forward.

Bang!

A gunshot was heard.

Blood mist burst from my left leg.

My body staggered, and pain tore through me, but I bit my lip and refused to fall.

Blake looked at me, a strange irritation rising in his chest.

Unable to suppress it, he reached into his coat and pulled out the wooden horse that held our daughter's ashes.

"Humble yourself, Helena, and I'll find you the best doctor. Even if your leg is ruined, I'll take care of you for the rest of your life. If you refuse to apologize, well…

"This is Lily's favorite toy. I'll burn it right now."

As he spoke, he walked toward the lit fireplace, raising his hand as if to throw it in.

In that instant, everything I had been holding together shattered.

"Don't!"

Ignoring the piercing pain in my leg, I dropped heavily to my knees.

Again and again, I slammed my forehead into the blood-soaked floor, each impact dull and heavy.

"I'll apologize! I'll apologize to Victoria!

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have hit her. I won't do it again!"

Blake froze mid-motion, his hand suspended in the air. His throat moved as if he wanted to say something.

However, Victoria suddenly rushed forward like she had lost her mind. She snatched the wooden horse and screamed sharply, "Why keep something so cursed?!"

She turned and threw it straight into the raging fire.

"No–!"

A raw, tearing scream ripped from my throat.

"Blake! Do you even know?! Lily died because she hung up that call!

"That wooden horse isn't a toy! Inside… are Lily's ashes!"

Blake froze. The color drained from his face instantly.

He shook his head, clinging to denial.

"You'd even make up a lie like this–cursing your own daughter–to avoid punishment?! Helena, you're beyond salvation.

"Lock her in the basement; no one lets her out until I say so."

The struggle had already drained all my strength.

Two bodyguards dragged me away.

As I passed Victoria, I caught the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.

Deep into the night, the basement was cold and damp, filled with the smell of mold.

Blood seeped slowly from my wound. My body grew colder, my consciousness fading.

I no longer had the strength to struggle or call for help.

I could only curl up in the corner and wait for death to come.

…

Just as my awareness was about to be completely swallowed, the heavy iron door of the basement was kicked open from the outside.

A tall figure rushed in.