At the age of twenty-eight, Samuel Westbrook became the uncrowned ruler of Harbor City.

He removed the final man who had tormented me.

He solely controlled Harbor City's 37 docks and 18 satellite casinos.

He gathered wealth daily, his power-wielding all his might.

That same year, I became pregnant with our longed-for child.

Our family and careers flourished.

But just as I was about to share the good news with Samuel,

I received a call from the casino in the middle of the night.

"Sister-in-law, can you come over?"

"There's a commotion here, saying the boss... The boss raped her while we were married."

I thought it was a provocation from an enemy, so I hurried over.

When I arrived, I saw only a frail young girl.

She wore the same wedding ring as mine.

But her face was filled with boldness I had never seen before.

When she saw me approaching, she provocatively stepped on my daughter's portrait. "Who told Samuel not to celebrate my birthday on time at twelve o'clock?"

"I'm going to make a scene, I'm going to!"

——

The pile of portraits was covered in footprints, and the offerings in front of the stage were scattered.

The once bustling casino was now silent.

Several senior managers dared not utter a word.

They all grovelled and coaxed this young woman.

"Who is she?"

The manager hesitated, hesitating for a long time before telling me.

The girl in front of me was Serena Rowe.

She was a university student from Harbor City, under twenty, and Samuel was very fond of her.

I was just wondering why he liked her, when someone pushed my shoulder away.

Looking up again, Samuel had already given me the answer with his actions.

He gently took off his coat and covered Serena Rowe with it, smiling fondly. "Little Ancestor, why are you here in such cold weather?"

"It's not that I don't want to be with you, it's just that today is a long anniversary..."

"Okay, okay, it's all my fault. If you're angry, hit me or scold me, just don't freeze yourself."

When I got the call, I was worried something might have happened to Samuel.

I came in a hurry, wearing only a single layer of clothing.

The evening breeze blew into my heart, chilling me to the bone.

I hesitated, then called out Samuel's name.

He was startled, realizing he'd bumped into me.

But he was only momentarily stunned.

Then, his calm smile returned.

"Sophia Nielson? Why are you here?"

"Did our little girl call you here? Don't pay attention to her. She's young and just likes to make trouble."

After saying that, he patted Serena Rowe's butt.

He chuckled softly, "Go back to your room and wait for me."

"You go home too. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

He was so calm, as if betrayal were a matter of course. Seeing I didn't move, Samuel stepped forward and brushed the snow off my shoulder.

"Be good, don't argue with that little girl."

The lights in the room flickered, and I vaguely remembered.

The year we were most in love, Samuel held me and swore to the light.

I will never let you down, even until we grow old together.

If you betray me, you will die a miserable death.

Pursing my lips, I grabbed a nearby vase and smashed it on Samuel's head.

Along with the blood came Serena Rowe's screams.

She threw herself into Samuel's arms like a frightened deer, timidly saying she was scared.

Samuel's head was still dripping with blood, but he held Serena Rowe tightly, not wanting her to see his miserable state.

His tone also took on a hint of discontent.

"Serena is timid and can't stand being scared."

"Go back first, don't make such a scene."

I threw the bloody vase shards at Samuel again.

He sneered, "How can anyone call that ugly?"

"Back then, I was stabbed eighteen times saving you; my intestines spilling out."

"You held my entrails with one hand and carried me on your back for miles across a blood-soaked road with the other. It was a horrific sight."

The mention of those bloody memories made the girl in Samuel's arms tremble.

Samuel immediately covered her ears, his brow tightening.

"Don't say that around her."

"She's not like you. If she hears that, she'll be terrified and won't sleep."

Of course, she was different.

At her age, had I seen Samuel beaten...

I would have drawn my knife and cut him down, risking my life.

Perhaps she feared I'd expose what happened before.

Samuel sighed and signaled his men to leave.

The girl was fragile, clutching the hem of his coat, unwilling to let go.

She only left after Samuel soothed her with patient words. When everyone had gone, Samuel sat before me. He lit a cigarette; the smoke obscured his face. His voice was calm, impassive. "You're an old fool—why argue with a child?" "I said you're the only one I love, but I'm still a man and have needs." He flicked ash from his cigarette. His eyes lingered on my reddened, frost-bitten chest, then looked away. "Look at all those scars, they're terrible." "Every time you stand naked before me, I see those wounds, great and small, and I feel..." He paused, but the word came precisely. "Disgust." Samuel rose slowly. He placed a jade token—bought with blood—into my palm. "But don't worry, I only love you." "No matter who else I am with, you have my place." "I've fought half my life; now I want to settle and live decently." For years, he had told me to wait. Wait until he owns all the docks. Wait to reach the peak. Then he'd retire and live well with me. For that promise, I endured beatings and scorn. Even pierced by bloody wounds, I never thought to quit. I pictured a quiet life for three, at peace. What Samuel pictured was a handsome wife and concubines, contentment and ease. I breathed, sensing the man before me both familiar and strange. The boy who endured insults for me, who swore to fight and massacre in Tongwan. The Samuel who had pulled me from a trash heap and promised a home. Now he seemed like another person. My fingertips stroked the gun's cold muzzle. I inhaled and told him, "Let's get a divorce." At nineteen, I would have raged. I would have stabbed the two in the act again and again and thrown them into the sea. But now... I touched my belly; bitterness rose in my throat.

For years, his promises were a steady drumbeat: wait, he said, endure a little more; the docks will be mine and danger will pass. I believed him because we had bled together, because when enemies came, he carried me as if my life alone mattered. I forgave punches, insults, late nights, and the way he sometimes watched other women with a greedy smile that tightened my stomach. I washed his wounds and mended his pride; he built an empire on my patience. At night, I imagined a small house, sunlight on a table, a child's laugh through the rooms. I held faith because love had been our shelter. But love can not restrain appetite, and appetite has teeth. The man before me spoke of settling, yet his hands still reached beyond comfort; his heart left room for others. That was the betrayal I could not accept and my trust.

That year—here in this casino—Samuel and I had hidden our not-yet-one-year-old daughter from enemies. To survive, we closed up in a box and covered her mouth. We held her until she stopped breathing. That day, Samuel's cries echoed across Harbor City. He swore on his severed finger to avenge our daughter's death.

I bow to the heavens as well.

If, one day, Maggie Westbrook could forgive me.

If one day she would come back into my arms.

I promise I will change, become good, and never kill again. Now, Samuel is the ruler of Harbor City, the owner of this casino.

He can reattach a severed finger and abandon old vows.

He can let his lover trample whole stacks of photographs.

But I cannot.

I want to build a blessed life for my child.

I want to bury these old wounds behind us.

Then I can take our child to a place without strife or betrayal and live out the rest of my days.

Samuel refused the divorce.

Not because he was unwilling to let her go.

But because his little girl called, suddenly saying she was afraid of the dark.

He dashed over, barely letting me finish a sentence.

That impatient bastard could not wait to send me a taunting video.

In the bright, spotless, floor-to-ceiling window light, Samuel was half-kneeling, washing her feet.

I knew this house.

When Samuel and I first came to Harbor City to make a living, we stood at the base of this building and looked up.

I had imagined standing by that window, sharing this view with my lover, and dying without regrets. Now Samuel could buy the whole building.

But the woman who lived there was not me.

More than a decade of blood and violence could not withstand the gentleness laid before my eyes.

I endured it again and again, but in the end, I could not.

I cleared the portraits, lit incense, and called a subordinate.

At dawn, a gift box arrived at Samuel's desk containing Serena Rowe's severed finger.

The blood, still wet, shone crimson and blurred the glittering ring.

Samuel's eyes burned with rage.

He bound the subordinate who worked for me and dragged him to me, saying sternly, "Sophia, this is going too far."

"Serena is just a child." "Child?" Those two light words stabbed my chest like a blade. I sneered and shook my head. Our child, our Maggie, is now buried underground. Every night I miss our daughter; every night Samuel is absent, I fear enemies hunting me. I fear Samuel, who hasn't yet returned, will be in danger. I fear he will suffer the same fate as Maggie. But what about him? He holds Serena Rowe and laughs at my frantic, wounded love. I clenched my fists and croaked, "Sign the divorce papers and I'll ...

"I'll cut off her fingers, her ears, her nose."

"I want to see whether her body or yours has more organs left." Samuel smiled with confident certainty. "You won't." "Sophia, I know you. You love me too much to tear us apart from a child."

Before he could finish, a girl's soft moan came over the line.

Samuel struck the man on the ground with one blow.

He hurried away, still longing for Serena Rowe.

After that incident, Samuel guarded Serena Rowe even more closely.

I held nothing back.

If I could not find her, I would destroy her.

In seven days, I hit thirty-seven docks and eighteen satellite casinos.

Wherever Serena Rowe had been, I smashed and burned it.

One day, while I was raiding a casino, my man called.

"Sophia, something terrible is happening! Someone is trying to demolish Miss Maggie's grave!"

"What?"

My eyes widened instantly, and I drove straight there, tires screaming, heart pounding like a drum. Memory after memory flashed — the child's laughter, the box, the silence. When I reached the cemetery gate, my hands shook, but my steps were steady. I would not let them desecrate her resting place. Not now, not ever. I promised myself blood for blood if anyone dared touch that grave. No second chance.