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?"

"Gideon, save me!"

Ivy crawled to Gideon’s feet, her tear-streaked face tilted up at him, eyes filled with desperation.

"Sylvie accused me of orchestrating today’s attack!" she cried, her voice trembling. "She said the man in black was my ex-boyfriend and that I told him to do it!"

She clutched at Gideon’s pant leg, her entire body shaking.

"But I swear—I didn’t! My ex-boyfriend has been threatening to kill me! That’s why I ran away from him!" Ivy sobbed harder. "I had no idea he would show up today! I didn’t know any of this would happen!"

Her voice grew smaller, more pitiful.

"But Sylvie threatened to call the police and throw me out…" She clung to Gideon’s arm. "Please, Gideon, help me! I’m terrified! If you make me leave, I don’t know what my crazy ex-boyfriend will do to me!"

Gideon’s gaze flickered between the two women—Ivy, crumpled on the floor, drowning in tears, and Sylvie, standing frozen, her face drained of all color.

After a long silence, he exhaled sharply.

"Sylvie, let it go," he said at last. "This isn’t fully settled yet. Just be more careful next time."

Sylvie’s breath caught.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Forget it?" Her chest tightened, her fingers curling into fists. "She just admitted to sending that man after me! She wanted me—" her voice broke, "—she wanted me to be violated!"

Gideon’s jaw tightened. "Didn’t Ivy explain? She’s a victim too. And you already slapped her—shouldn’t that be enough?"

Sylvie’s body went cold.

She watched in stunned silence as Gideon bent down, gently helping Ivy to her feet, his movements careful, protective. Without another word, he led her into the house.

Sylvie stared at their retreating figures, laughter suddenly bubbling from her lips.

But it wasn’t amusement.

It was disbelief.

It was bitterness, clawing its way up from the depths of her chest.

Her vision blurred as memories came rushing back.

Years ago, fresh out of college, Sylvie had barely earned enough to get by. She and Gideon had scraped together their wages to rent a tiny, windowless basement in New York for $200 a month.

One night, a torrential downpour slammed against the city.

Sylvie and Gideon lay squeezed together on a narrow bed, the only space they could afford.

Half-asleep, she felt something splash against her cheek.

Frowning, she opened her eyes to water dripping from the ceiling.

And it was dripping directly onto Gideon’s side of the bed.

That night, Sylvie had shaken Gideon awake, insisting they switch sides on the bed. The ceiling leaked, and she refused to let him sleep under the dripping water.

"If you don’t move, I’ll break up with you!" she had threatened, arms crossed, lips pursed.

Gideon had only rolled his eyes, grabbed his pillow, and swapped places with her.

"You’re so dramatic," he muttered, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Sylvie had hugged his arm, snuggling close.

"This is what it means to go through hard times together," she had whispered before drifting off to sleep.

That same man, the one she had trusted with her whole heart, now refused to believe her.

Just a simple "forget it"—and everything was supposed to be over?

Sylvie stood frozen, watching as Gideon carefully rolled an egg over Ivy’s bruised cheek. His touch was gentle, filled with concern.

Her nails dug into her palms, her breath unsteady. The bitterness swelling in her chest finally spilled out.

"Gideon… am I really so untrustworthy to you?"

Gideon didn’t even glance up.

"Sylvie, why are you still holding onto this?" he sighed, his voice tinged with impatience. "Ivy is a girl—it’s not easy for her. If we don’t help her, who will? You’re being unreasonable."

Sylvie parted her lips as if to argue, but she stopped herself.

A bitter smile flickered across her face.

She said nothing.

Turning away, she walked back to the room, each step heavier than the last.

That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her vision blurred by the tears that silently soaked her pillow.

The next morning, Gideon took the initiative to invite her for a walk.

Sylvie stood still, staring at him—the man she once knew, yet now felt like a stranger.

Gideon approached with a smile, reaching out to hold her hand as if nothing had happened.

They had barely reached the entrance of the scenic area when his phone rang.

"Sylvie," he said, already turning away. "A fellow practitioner just asked for help sorting out some scriptures. I’ll go assist him first. You go ahead, I’ll catch up later."

Without waiting for her reply, he walked off, his figure blending into the crowd.

Sylvie stood motionless, watching his retreating back.

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, then lowered her head and stepped into the scenic area alone.

The Scottish Highlands landscape remained breathtaking, unchanged.

But the people beside her were no longer the same.

Sylvie strolled around aimlessly, her interest fading as she stepped out.

A sudden urge pulled her toward the chapel where Gideon practiced.

"Excuse me, which prayer hall is Gideon in?"

"He didn't come today."

The chapel attendant looked at her with confusion.

"Alright, I see."

Sylvie nodded in thanks, but a sense of unease crept into her heart. A bad premonition took root, making her restless.

She hurried back home, torn between rushing to confirm her suspicions and dreading the truth that might await her.

Reaching her doorstep, she placed a trembling hand on the handle, ready to push it open.

Then, a soft gasp came from inside.

Her hand froze. Her heart pounded.

Slowly, she leaned toward the door, peeking through the narrow gap.

Her breath caught.

Inside, Ivy lay atop Gideon, her delicate skin deliberately exposed. Her slender fingers traced lazy circles on his chest.

"Don't you want this to happen too?" Ivy's voice was low, laced with temptation. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes smoldering with intent.

Gideon chuckled, his tone deep and hoarse. "Isn't this what you wanted? It’s much easier without that nuisance around."

Ivy said nothing, only offering a sly smile.

She inched closer, her breath warm and sweet against his skin. Her lips hovered near his Adam’s apple, her gaze innocent yet filled with mischief. The air between them thickened with anticipation.

Gideon grasped Ivy’s wrist, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a deep swallow. His breath came hot and heavy, the hunger in his eyes burning uncontrollably.

With a low growl, he flipped her beneath him, pressing his lips to hers in a feverish kiss.

The room filled with breathless sighs and hushed gasps—sounds that pierced Sylvie like a dagger.

She stood frozen, eyes hollow, as if her soul had been wrenched from her body. Tears, long held back, finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks, soaking into her clothes.

But she remained unmoving.

Then, as if the weight of her sorrow became too much to bear, her knees gave way, and she collapsed silently to the ground.

Her fingers trembled as they clutched the hem of her shirt—a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything. Curling in on herself, she buried her face in her arms, her sobs muffled but uncontainable.

She wandered the streets like a ghost, her steps sluggish, her expression lifeless.

Eyes dull, gaze unfocused, she looked as though she had been hollowed out, left as nothing more than a fragile shell. Only the tears staining her cheeks proved she was still alive.

Then, she took a misstep.

Her foot caught on a stray stone, sending her sprawling onto the pavement.

Pain shot through her palms as her nails dug deep into her flesh, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside her chest.

And then—memories came rushing back.

...

Years ago...

Sylvie was still in college, home for the summer.

That night, just as she was preparing for bed, a knock sounded at the door.

She opened it to find Ivy standing outside, alone.

“There’s a power outage at my house,” Ivy said with a pitiful look. “Can I stay here for the night?”

Sylvie’s parents had gone to the countryside, leaving her alone. Without hesitation, she agreed.

In the middle of the night, a faint sound stirred her awake.

She cracked open her door just in time to see Ivy slip into her father’s room.

Curiosity gnawed at her, and she crept closer, peering through the narrow gap.

Inside, Ivy stood with her back to the door, dressed in shorts and a camisole.

“Uncle,” she cooed, her voice dripping with something Sylvie couldn’t quite place, “can I keep you company tonight?”

Sylvie’s father turned, his face impassive.

“Little girl, go back to sleep,” he said, his voice calm, dismissive.

But Ivy didn’t move.

Instead, she took a step closer, eyes locked onto him.

“Uncle…” Her voice softened, almost pleading. “Haven’t you been lonely all these years without your wife?”

Slowly, she reached out, her delicate fingers trailing over his shoulder.

Her gaze shimmered with something unsettling—pitiful yet calculating.