He handed you a flower, and you blushed—ready to trade the rest of your life for it.

For eight years, Sylvie Harrington had devoted herself to Gideon Clarke, chasing after him like a moth drawn to a flame.

But this time, she didn't blush. She didn't hesitate. She threw the flower to the ground, crushed it beneath her heel, and walked away without looking back.

The moment Gideon heard that Sylvie had returned to the city, the rosary in his hand snapped, scattering onto the floor.

——

Meanwhile, at a plastic surgery hospital, a woman stepped through the doors.

She was dressed plainly, but her features were flawless. Her voice was calm yet shocking:

"Doctor, I want to change everything about me. A completely new face."

Out of professional ethics, the doctor instinctively refused.

Sylvie said nothing—she simply reached into her bag, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and placed it in front of him.

The doctor’s hesitation wavered. His eyes gleamed with greed.

She then slid a confidentiality agreement across the desk.

"Sign it. No one can know about this."

Without a second thought, the doctor grabbed the pen and scribbled his name.

"Come to the hospital at 2 PM next week," he instructed. "Skip the reception desk. Take the elevator straight to the third-floor operating room."

Sylvie smiled, thanked him, and walked out of the hospital. As she stepped into the sunlight, she dialed another number.

"Hello, I'd like to arrange a 'fake death' service for next week."

A gentle customer service voice replied, "Understood. I'll process your request."

Hanging up, Sylvie lifted her gaze to the sky. The sun was blinding, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

"Gideon, I’m letting go. And this time, I’m taking my freedom with me."

Then, she glanced at the photo in her hand—her so-called best friend wrapped in Gideon’s arms.

Her lips curled into a cold sneer.

Let’s see how long you can keep this secret.

Half a month ago, Ivy Winslow, Sylvie’s best friend—who had been distant for a long time—suddenly reappeared at her doorstep.

She claimed she was heading to Scottish Highlands for a while and needed a place to stay.

Sylvie wasn’t pleased, but she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

At least, not until she noticed the red agate tied around Gideon’s waist.

“Oh, this?” Gideon brushed his fingers over the stone without even glancing at her. “Your best friend gave it to me. Said it was a thank-you gift for letting her stay the night.”

Sylvie froze.

Why was she thanking him instead of me?

Doubt crept in like a slow poison, seeping into her mind. And once a woman starts to doubt, she sees everything more clearly.

That night, she woke up to the sound of soft footsteps.

Through the dim corridor light, she saw two figures entwined—shadows overlapping like lovers caught in a secret dance.

Gideon’s hand cupped the back of Ivy’s head, his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Why are you up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” His voice was hoarse, tinged with something dark and unrestrained.

“You’re asking me? Weren’t you the one waiting for me at the door?” Ivy pouted, playfully hitting his chest.

Gideon let out a low chuckle. Without another word, he lifted her chin and crushed his lips against hers—biting, devouring, consuming.

A sharp spark ignited between them.

“Aren’t you afraid Sylvie will find out?” Ivy gasped, breathless and dazed.

Gideon smirked. “Her? She’ll never know. And even if she does… she’ll never leave me.”

Ivy blinked up at him. “How can you be so sure? I even joked once that she should give you to me, and she actually laughed it off.”

Gideon scoffed, his tone laced with disdain.

“Huh. Does she dare? She’s just a follower—someone who clings to me, nothing more. Why waste our time worrying about her?”

Then he silenced any lingering doubts with another kiss, deep and possessive, his tongue forcing its way into hers—no hesitation, no guilt, only reckless indulgence.

Ivy braced her hands against Gideon’s chest, panting softly. Slowly, she tilted her head up, surrendering to the scorching kiss of the man who did not belong to her—yet, at the same time, completely did.

In the darkness, Sylvie stood frozen, watching the intimate entanglement unfold before her. Her vision blurred, her fingers clenched at her sides, yet her body refused to move.

Until—

Her heel brushed against the door.

A faint sound, almost imperceptible, but enough.

Gideon's movements halted instantly. His eyes flickered with vigilance as he turned toward the disturbance.

"Who’s there?" His voice, low and sharp, sliced through the silence.

Sylvie instinctively stepped back, pressing herself into the shadows.

Gideon pushed open her bedroom door, peering into the darkness. Seeing nothing out of place, his gaze eventually landed on Sylvie, lying with her back to him, seemingly deep in sleep.

His footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.

Each rustling step against the floor felt like a hammer pounding against Sylvie’s chest. Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she forced herself to remain still, eyes shut, body steady.

A gentle whisper ghosted against her ear.

"Sylvie… I know you’re awake."

Her eyelashes twitched involuntarily.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she rolled over lazily, smacked her lips, and absentmindedly scratched her head—playing the role of someone lost in deep slumber.

Gideon studied her face for a moment longer before pulling back with a satisfied chuckle.

"You sleep so soundly," he murmured, as if reassuring himself.

Stepping away, he turned to Ivy, who had been standing at the doorway, arms crossed, lips pursed.

"Are you really that scared of Sylvie finding out?" she asked, dissatisfaction lacing her voice.

Before he could respond, a rustling sound came from outside the window.

Both turned their heads sharply—just in time to see a dark figure dart past.

A stray cat.

Gideon exhaled lightly, then cast Ivy a glance. "Don't overthink it. Sylvie is still my girlfriend, after all. I don’t want her to know… just yet." His tone was almost affectionate, but there was something cold beneath it.

"Now, go to sleep."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Ivy watched his retreating figure, an exaggerated pout on her lips—but a glint of resentment flickered in her eyes.

—

The next morning, Sylvie sat across from Gideon at breakfast.

Every time he looked at her, she averted her gaze, her fingers gripping her spoon a little too tightly.

Sylvie hadn't been able to gather her thoughts since last night. The scene replayed in her mind like a cruel joke. How was she supposed to face Gideon now?

A few years ago, he had been nothing more than an obscure gaming streamer.

She still remembered his first live broadcast. The tiny, dimly lit rental house. The flickering screen. The deafening silence in the chatroom.

There had only been three viewers.

Knowing how much his pride meant to him, she had secretly asked her friends to join and support him.

That night, he streamed for four hours, pouring everything he had into the game. By the end, he had earned a mere 10 dollars—more than 6 of which had come from her friends’ donations.

She had been with him through every struggle, sacrificing everything to follow him—even to the remote Scottish Highlands region.

And now, he could so easily hold another woman in his arms?

A bitter taste rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She refused to let her emotions betray her.

Silently, she turned back to her room and locked the door behind her.

---

That afternoon, Gideon left for the chapel, and Ivy claimed she was going for a walk.

Sylvie was left alone in the house.

The silence felt heavier than usual.

Then—

A faint rustling sound.

Sylvie stiffened.

She turned toward the window, her pulse quickening.

CRASH!

A stone shattered the glass.

Before she could react, a dark figure leaped through the broken window.

A gust of cold air swept in as the intruder lunged at her.

A rough hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream.

“Where is she?”

The voice was low, chilling—like a ghost demanding its sacrifice.

Sylvie struggled, kicking wildly, but the strength difference was overwhelming.

The man's piercing gaze raked over her, sharp and predatory.

“You’re quite pretty,” he sneered.

His fingers dug into her clothes, yanking at the fabric.

Then—his breath, hot and vile, touched her neck.

A sickening kiss.

Disgust surged through Sylvie.

She thrashed wildly, her desperation mounting.

Tears welled in her eyes.

No—

Just as despair threatened to consume her, something shifted—

A powerful grip yanked the intruder away.

Gideon grabbed the man in black by the shoulder and yanked him back, landing a powerful punch to his face. The intruder staggered but quickly regained his footing, and the two men locked into a fierce struggle.

Sylvie’s hands trembled as she fumbled for her phone, her heart pounding in terror. She quickly dialed the police and pressed herself against the wall, watching helplessly as they fought.

The man in black was tall and overpowering. Within moments, he forced Gideon to the ground, pinning him down with crushing strength.

“You’re overconfident,” the intruder sneered, his cold eyes glinting with malice. He raised his fist, ready to deliver a devastating blow.

CRACK!

A vase shattered against the back of his head.

Stunned, the man in black staggered, momentarily dazed.

Gideon seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength, he pushed himself up, grabbing a shard of glass and plunging it into the intruder’s side. The man let out a strangled cry before collapsing to the floor, motionless.

At that moment, the wail of sirens pierced the night air.

The police burst in, weapons drawn. In seconds, they restrained the attacker, twisting his arms behind his back and hauling him toward the patrol car.

Sylvie, still trembling, barely registered the voices around her.

Gideon wrapped his arms around her.

"It’s okay. Don’t be afraid," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

The warmth of his embrace broke through her frozen state, and the dam of emotions she had been holding back shattered.

She sobbed uncontrollably.

---

When they returned home, Ivy was already waiting, her face pale with worry.

The moment she saw them, she rushed forward.

"Sylvie! Are you okay? How did this happen? It’s my fault—I should’ve stayed home with you!"

Sylvie looked at her, her expression unreadable.

Something felt… off.

Ivy's anxiety seemed genuine, but an unease gnawed at the back of Sylvie’s mind.

That night, as the house fell silent, Sylvie lay awake, a lingering sense of suspicion keeping her on edge.

Then—

A faint creak of footsteps.

Sylvie's eyes snapped open.

She stayed perfectly still, listening as Ivy slipped out of bed and made her way to the balcony.

Carefully, Sylvie pushed aside her blanket and crept toward the door, straining to hear.

A flick of a lighter. The faint glow of a cigarette.

Then—

"Hey, are you out?" Ivy’s voice was low, almost a whisper.

Sylvie’s breath hitched.

"You were too careless," Ivy continued, exhaling a stream of smoke. "I gave you a chance, but you still messed it up. A weak woman, and you couldn't even handle her. Who do you think is to blame?"

A pause.

"Enough talking. We’re in this together. Don’t contact me again. Just wait for another opportunity—I’ll deal with Sylvie myself."

Ivy flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it underfoot. When she turned around—

She froze.

Sylvie stood in the shadows, her eyes locked onto Ivy with an icy gaze.

Ivy swallowed hard, forcing a nervous laugh.

"Sylvie… why are you still awake?"

Ivy's face flickered with panic for a brief moment, but she quickly masked it and turned toward the room.

"You called that man earlier today, didn’t you?"

Sylvie’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade.

Ivy stopped in her tracks. "What? No—how could I?"

"No?" Sylvie’s grip tightened around her phone, her body trembling. "That man… was your ex-boyfriend."

Ivy’s breath hitched.

"I was almost assaulted today. And you—" Sylvie took a step closer, her voice shaking with rage. "You ordered him to do it!"

She held up her phone, her fingers white from the pressure. Displayed on the screen was an old photo—Ivy, smiling, pressed close to a man. The same man who attacked Sylvie that night.

She had found it by digging through Ivy’s old social media.

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then—

Ivy smirked.

Gone was the pretense of panic.

"So, you found it?" She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Then there's no point in hiding it."

Her gaze turned mocking, filled with undisguised malice.

"Yes. I ordered him to do it."

Sylvie’s heart pounded. The sheer cruelty in Ivy’s voice made her stomach churn.

"But what can you do to me?" Ivy tilted her head, her lips curling into a sneer. "He didn’t actually succeed, did he?"

Sylvie’s entire body shook with fury.

"Why?" she demanded, her voice hoarse with disbelief.

Ivy’s expression darkened, a twisted smile still playing on her lips.

"I just don’t want you to have an easy life."

The final thread of restraint snapped.

Sylvie lunged forward and struck her hard across the face.

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the room.

Ivy staggered, clutching her cheek as she crumpled to the floor. Tears welled in her eyes, but Sylvie couldn’t tell if they were real or just another act.

"Sylvie…" Ivy’s voice trembled, suddenly pitiful. "I’m sorry! Please don’t drive me away! I—I was a victim too! I didn’t know things would go this far!"

Sylvie froze, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift.

Was she lying again?

Before she could react, a deep voice cut through the tension.

"What’s going on?"

Sylvie whipped around.

Gideon stood in the doorway, his gaze shifting between them. His brows furrowed.

"Why are you two still awake in the middle of the night?"