That meticulously prepared candlelight dinner ended in a suffocating, deathly silence.

I forced down the medium-rare steak, bloody and raw. The meat was tender, but in my mouth, it tasted like wax. The metallic tang of blood rose in my throat, mirroring the exact feeling I had for the man sitting across from me—pure nausea.

Late that night, the bedroom lights went out.

Julian wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm breath dusted the nape of my neck as his hands wandered restlessly under the hem of my nightgown.

"Elara..." His voice was low and husky, thick with desire and an urgent need to possess, as if he needed to physically confirm that I still belonged to him.

In the past, I would have shied away in mock coyness, overjoyed, thinking this was proof of his love. But now, the image of him and Seraphina in his office replayed in my mind—disgusting and vile. I felt like my whole body was covered in spikes.

"I'm tired, Julian." I pushed his hands away cold, stiffened my body, turned my back to him, and pulled the duvet tight.

A suppressed sigh came from behind me, tinged with disappointment. Julian didn't force the issue. He just tucked me in, his arm still draped loosely over my waist. "Okay. Sleep. Goodnight."

Listening to his breathing even out, I opened my eyes in the darkness.

By the moonlight, I studied his sleeping profile—the face I had loved for three years. Now, it just looked like a stranger’s. A monster’s.

I quietly pulled out my phone, dimmed the brightness to the lowest setting, and opened an airline app.

Two one-way tickets to Zurich. One for me, one for my father in the nursing home.

The moment my finger hovered over "Confirm Payment," I didn't feel the relief I expected. My heart was pounding like a war drum.

Julian, the judgment day you’ve so carefully prepared will be the day I make my escape.

Early the next morning, Julian mysteriously drove me out to a private equestrian club on Long Island.

"Do you like it?" He pointed to the row of expensive thoroughbreds in the stable, his eyes full of doting affection. "I remember you said you loved riding before the Vance family went bankrupt. I booked the whole place today just to make you happy."

I looked at him and sneered internally. He was really investing a lot of capital to play the role of the "devoted fiancé."

Julian helped me mount the horse, his movements gentle and careful, as if I were a fragile treasure. I looked down at him from the saddle and suddenly asked:

"Julian, since we're getting engaged, when are we going to city hall to sign the marriage license?"

The smile on Julian's face froze. His eyes darted away, avoiding mine. He busied himself adjusting the reins, speaking in a casual, offhand tone.

"Elara, you know I don't believe in the institution of marriage. That piece of paper doesn't matter... as long as we're together, nothing can separate us."

He paused, then added, "Besides, at the engagement party in seven days, I'm going to give you the grandest promise in the world. That means so much more than a marriage certificate."

I didn't say a word. I just coldly pulled my hand out of his grip.

A promise? More like a promise to send me to hell.

Just then, a commotion broke out nearby.

Bodyguards were escorting two figures toward us. It was Seraphina in her wheelchair, and her shrewd-looking mother—Linda.

"Oh my, isn't that Elara?" Linda cried out with exaggerated surprise, her voice shrill. "Seraphina heard Julian brought you riding and insisted on coming to watch."

Seraphina was wearing a white lace dress with a cashmere blanket over her legs. Even in a wheelchair, she looked like a fragile, innocent little flower.

"Julian!" She called out sweetly, her gaze hooked onto him. "The doctor said being around animals is good for my mood. I want to pet Elara's horse too."

Julian glanced at me instinctively, frowning slightly. He seemed worried I'd be upset about them ruining the atmosphere. But he still walked over and pushed her wheelchair closer. "Careful. Don't get kicked."

Supported by Julian, Seraphina reached out a trembling hand, acting like a gust of wind could knock her over.

The moment Julian turned around to grab a carrot to feed the horse, Seraphina looked up at me. Those eyes, usually brimming with tears, flashed with a vicious, icy glare.

In a split second, a silver glint flashed in her hand. She jammed a long needle hidden between her fingers straight into the joint of my horse's leg!

Neigh—!

The horse screamed in agony and reared up on its hind legs, going berserk.

"Ah! Help!" Seraphina threw herself backward, landing heavily on the grass with a scream.

"Seraphina!"

Julian dropped the carrots and sprinted over like a madman. He didn't even spare a glance at me, dangling precariously from the saddle, fighting the reins of a panicked beast. He dove straight for Seraphina and pulled her tightly into his arms.

The horse bucked hard, throwing me off. My knees smashed onto the gravel, and blood instantly soaked through my pants.

Pain shot through my body, but my heart hurt far worse than my knees.

"Are you hurt? Do your legs hurt?" Julian checked Seraphina's legs frantically. The panic in his eyes was genuine.

"It hurts... Julian, I'm scared... Elara... she did it on purpose..." Seraphina shrank into his embrace, sobbing her heart out like a tragic heroine.

Once he confirmed Seraphina was "okay," Julian whipped his head around. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at me, looking like he wanted to tear me apart alive.

"Elara! Are you insane? You know she can't use her legs, why would you let the horse trample her?!"

I fought the pain to stand up, looking coldly at these two Oscar-worthy actors. "I didn't. She stabbed my horse with a needle."

"A needle?" Julian laughed in anger, pointing at Seraphina's trembling legs. "She can't even stand up! How could she stab your horse? Elara, just admit it. You're jealous! You're jealous that I care about her!"

He stepped toward me aggressively, raising his hand as if to slap me.

I didn't flinch. I just tilted my chin up stubbornly and stared him dead in the eye.

In that instant, Julian saw my pale face and the blood running down my legs. His hand froze in mid-air. The rage in his eyes cracked.

Was that... hesitation?

"Oh, Julian, don't blame Elara."

Just as Julian was stuck in the standoff, Linda stepped forward. She played the fake peacemaker, but her eyes were calculating.

"The child has always been competitive and proud. She probably misunderstood your friendship with Seraphina."

"Look, you two are getting engaged soon. It's not good for old best friends to be fighting like this." Linda rolled her eyes, hatching a plan. "In three days, Seraphina is hosting a private party on a yacht to celebrate her rehab progress. Why don't you let Elara come? It's the perfect chance for them to talk and clear up the misunderstanding."

Seraphina caught the cue immediately. She tugged at Julian's shirt, speaking timidly. "Yes, I want to make up with Elara... Elara, you'll come, right? I want to prove I don't have any bad intentions. I don't blame you for letting the horse step on me just now..."

I watched the mother-daughter duo sing their duet. I saw right through them.

Make up? Celebrate?

It was a trap. A carefully orchestrated setup to serve me an appetizer of humiliation before the main course at the engagement party, surrounded by their trashy social circle.

I looked at Julian, waiting for him to defend me.

If he loved me even a little, if he had even a shred of a brain, he should refuse this ridiculous proposal.

Julian frowned, clearly hesitating. He knew Seraphina's circle was hostile toward me.

But when he saw Seraphina's teary, hopeful eyes and those "crippled" legs, the scale in his heart tipped again.

Maybe he thought that making me suffer a little grievance and bowing my head to Seraphina was a form of "atonement."

After a few seconds of silence, he finally turned to me. His tone wasn't as violent, but it was cold enough to freeze my blood.

"Elara, since it's a misunderstanding, clear it up. Seraphina is being generous enough to forgive what just happened. You should learn to be the bigger person."

"You have to go to the party in three days. Stop being difficult."

With that, he bent down and scooped Seraphina up, carrying her gently toward the Rolls Royce, leaving me with nothing but a ruthless view of his back.

As Linda walked past me, she lowered her voice so only I could hear, letting out a scornful scoff.

"Little bitch. Since you refused to do this the easy way, you'll get the hard way. Just wait for the show in three days."

I stood there, watching the three of them leave like a happy little family.

The wind on Long Island was strong. It stung the open wounds on my knees.

I watched the luxury car disappear and curled my lips into a bitter smile.

Julian, you chose her after all.

"Elara, you might belong to Julian, but this is Seraphina's turf."

Linda blocked my path at the boarding gate of the *Nirvana*. She dangled a piece of fabric that barely qualified as a bunny suit, wearing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You know Seraphina's friends are here tonight. They all know about... the past. To prove you're not stuck-up and are truly sorry, Seraphina thinks it would be best if you served the guests."

"I figure you can swallow your pride for the sake of patching things up, right?"

I stared at the humiliating costume and turned to leave.

"What? Cold feet?" Linda leaned in, her voice dropping to a hiss. "Your dying father's medical bills depend entirely on Julian. Walk away now, and Seraphina gets upset. If she whispers in Julian's ear... well, you do the math."

I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. For Dad, I had no choice.

Changing into that degrading outfit, I walked onto the deck with a champagne tray. The biting sea wind sliced right through the thin fabric.

Julian was sitting on a sofa in the center of the crowd, nursing a drink. He looked distracted, his eyes constantly darting toward the entrance.

When he saw me appear in that getup, his pupils contracted instantly. His grip on his glass tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"Who told her to wear that?!"

Julian shot up, his face thunderous. He stormed over, already unbuttoning his suit jacket as if to cover me. "This is ridiculous! Whose idea was this?"

For a split second, my frozen heart felt a spark of warmth.

But before he could reach me, Seraphina tugged at his jacket from her wheelchair.

"Julian... don't blame Elara..." She looked up with teary eyes, her voice trembling. "She insisted. She said she wanted to punish herself for how she treated me back in school... to atone..."

"Plus, everyone is watching. If you protect her now, they'll think you don't care about my suffering... that you're shielding the arsonist."

Julian stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked at me, torn between heartache and doubt, but the word "atonement" seemed to trap him.

His hand, holding the jacket meant for me, froze in mid-air. Finally, he gritted his teeth and put the jacket back on.

"If she chose it herself..." He turned his head away, refusing to look at me, his voice muffled as if he were trying to convince himself.

I stood in the freezing wind, watching his hand retreat. The tiny spark of warmth in my chest instantly froze into ice.

He believed her.

Even with a lie this pathetic, he chose to believe Seraphina. He chose to sacrifice my dignity to uphold his twisted sense of "justice."

The next hour was pure torture.

I wove through the crowd with the drinks, feeling the rich kids' gazes sticking to me like slime.

"Well, well. Isn't that the high-and-mighty Miss Vance?"

"I heard she'll do anything for cash. Is it true?"

The mockery was endless. I gritted my teeth, praying for this farce to end.

Julian sat in the corner, drinking sullenly. Although Seraphina kept pestering him, I could feel his gaze locked onto me, filled with a hidden anxiety.

Whenever some guy tried to get too handsy with me, Julian would slam his glass down and glare daggers at them until they sheepishly backed off.

He thought that was enough. He thought that was "protection."

He didn't know that his silence was the cruelest cut of all.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, someone stuck a foot out to trip me.

I lost my balance and crashed heavily onto the deck. Expensive champagne splashed everywhere. Shards of glass sliced into my palms and knees, and blood pooled instantly.

"Hahaha! What a show!" The crowd erupted in laughter.

The trust-fund brat who tripped me stepped up to humiliate me further. "Clumsy bitch. You got my shoes dirty. Lick them clean..."

"Enough!"

A furious roar cut through the laughter.

Julian couldn't take it anymore. He shoved Seraphina aside and charged over, knocking the brat away to shield me.

"Back off! Who gave you permission to touch her?!"

His eyes were bloodshot, like a lion provoked. In that moment, he forgot his "punishment," forgot his revenge plan. His instinct was just to protect me.

He crouched down, looking at my bloody hands with panic and heartache. His hands shook as he reached out to help me up. "Elara... does it hurt? Come on, let's get you patched up..."

Seeing him like this, a lump formed in my throat. I almost cried from the sheer weight of the grievance.

"Owww... my leg! It hurts! It feels like it's breaking!"

A blood-curdling scream came from behind us.

In his rush, Julian had pushed Seraphina too hard, and her wheelchair had slammed into a table corner.

Julian's hand, reaching for me, froze instantly.

"Julian... my leg! It hurts so much..." Seraphina wailed hysterically.

The concern in Julian's eyes twisted into agonizing conflict. He looked at me, then back at the sobbing Seraphina.

A few seconds of deathly silence passed.

Finally, under my desperate gaze, he slowly pulled his hand back.

"...Clean yourself up."

He couldn't even look me in the eye. His voice was hoarse. After dropping those cold words, he turned and scooped Seraphina up into his arms. "Don't be scared. I'm calling the doctor! It's okay, I'm here..."

I sat among the broken glass, watching his retreating back as he carried her away in a panic.

The laughter around me started up again, but I couldn't hear it anymore.

I couldn't feel the pain in my hands. I only felt a gaping hole in my chest, with the cold wind rushing through it.

As he carried Seraphina past me, I heard the brat ask, confused, "Julian, why were you so nervous about the waitress?"

Julian paused.

To hide his slip-up and comfort the trembling girl in his arms, he gritted his teeth and spoke with a tone that sounded almost self-flagellating.

"Care? Impossible."

"She owes Seraphina a life. This little bit of suffering is just her penance. When she's paid her debt and learned how to be a decent human being, I'll give her a way out."

"For now... let her suffer."

Penance. A way out.

Those words hit like a sledgehammer, shattering the last illusion I had of him.

It turned out that his moment of instinctive protection was just a "mistake" in his eyes. He needed to strangle his love for me to honor his so-called justice.

I picked myself up off the deck. I didn't bandage my wounds. I didn't look at anyone.

Dragging my bleeding leg, I walked off the yacht, step by step.

The jeers grew louder, but I was deaf to them now.

My heart was dead.

That night, I dragged my bleeding leg back to the apartment like a walking corpse.

Three days left until the engagement party.

I started packing. When I pulled open the drawer, the "unlimited" Black Card Julian had once forced on me lay there quietly, right next to the diamond engagement ring he’d given me.

Before, seeing these might have softened my heart. Now, remembering the cold look in his eyes on the yacht as he chose Seraphina, I just felt the irony.

I wasn't helpless. I had hands, and running the gallery over the years had allowed me to save up a decent nest egg. Even though Vance Industries had been swallowed by Julian's Thorne Group, my private accounts still held the trust fund my father had set up for me years ago, plus the proceeds from my paintings.

It was enough for Dad and me to get treatment in Zurich, live comfortably, and start over.

I didn't give a damn about Julian Thorne's money. From now on, we owed each other nothing.

Just as I zipped up my suitcase—*Buzz. Buzz.*

My phone vibrated violently in the silent room. The screen lit up with the emergency contact number for my father's nursing home.

A sickening feeling of dread instantly gripped my heart.

I picked up, and the voice on the other end was frantic.

"Miss Vance! Your father has had a sudden brain hemorrhage. It's critical!"

"We can't get his blood pressure down, and there's significant bleeding in the brainstem. He needs a craniotomy immediately! But..."

My mind went blank. My voice trembled. "But what?"

"But just now, when we tried to process the prepayment for the surgery, the system showed a zero balance in all your linked accounts! The hospital system has locked the surgery schedule. You need to come here immediately and pay the $50,000 deposit plus the ICU retainer. Otherwise, the anesthesiologist and surgical team cannot proceed."

Zero balance? Impossible!

That money was my private property. How could it just vanish into thin air?

I didn't even bother grabbing a coat. I ran downstairs like a madwoman, flagged a taxi, and sped straight to Mount Sinai Hospital.

When I burst into the ER, Dad was already on a ventilator. His face, once so commanding, was now paper-white and lifeless.

"Doctor! Save him! I'll pay right now!"

My hands shook as I dug my platinum debit card out of my bag and handed it to the nurse at the billing desk.

*Beep—* The machine let out a sharp tone of rejection.

"I'm sorry, Miss Vance. Insufficient funds."

"Impossible!" I snatched the POS machine, shaking so hard I nearly dropped it. "There's two million dollars in this account! I saved it bit by bit selling my art over the years!"

I immediately dialed my private banker.

The news from the other end plunged me into an ice bath.

"Miss Vance, I'm so sorry. Half an hour ago, Ms. Linda presented a 'Full Asset Custody Authorization' signed by your father. Claiming that the bankruptcy liquidation of Vance Industries required capital turnover, she transferred all funds from the Vance family trust accounts—and your linked sub-accounts—to an offshore account."

"What authorization? My father has been in a coma! How could he sign anything?! It's a forgery!"

"The paperwork is compliant and notarized by a lawyer. And... the legal team assisting with the freeze and transfer belonged to the Thorne Group."

I hung up, my blood running cold.

Linda! And Seraphina!

They didn't just want to steal Julian. They wanted to wipe us out completely. They wouldn't even spare my father's life-saving money! And Julian's company was their accomplice!

"Miss Vance..." The doctor checked his watch, his tone heavy. "Ten minutes. If the funds aren't in, the OR has to close. We can't violate protocol."

Ten minutes. Fifty thousand dollars.

Where was I going to find that kind of money?

My gaze fell on the familiar name in my contacts—Julian.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I had sworn I would never beg him again, never take another cent from him.

But now, looking at my dying father, my dignity wasn't worth a damn thing.

Trembling, I dialed the number.

Once... twice...

Finally, he picked up.

"Julian..." I started, my voice humble as dust. "Please, lend me fifty thousand. Dad had a brain hemorrhage, he's in the ER. Linda transferred all the money, I have no way out... It's a life or death situation..."

There was a suffocating silence on the other end.

After a long pause, Julian spoke. His voice wasn't cold like I expected, but filled with disappointment and the sarcasm of someone who thinks they've seen through a lie.

"A brain hemorrhage? Elara, have you really stooped so low that you'd curse your own father just to force me to unfreeze your accounts?"

I froze, tears bursting from my eyes. "I'm not lying! The doctor is right here! You can listen..."

"Elara, stop acting."

Julian cut me off, sounding deeply exhausted.

"Seraphina just told me she visited Oliver at the nursing home this morning. She said he was in high spirits, even ate an apple she peeled for him. He even told us to plan the engagement party well."

"So? Only a few hours later, and he suddenly has a brain hemorrhage? Conveniently right after I cut off your cards?"

My heart sank like a stone.

Seraphina!

She never went to the nursing home this morning! She was lying!

"Julian, Seraphina is lying! She was never there! I'm begging you, just believe me this one time... send someone to check, please..."

"I won't."

Julian's voice turned cold, dripping with the arrogance of someone who thinks they're smarter than the room. "Elara, I thought you were just a bit spoiled. I didn't realize that for money, you could become so hypocritical and greedy."

"Do you think this sob story will make me soft?"

"You want money? Fine."

"Come home. Right now. As long as you show up obediently, stop these boring lies, and promise to apologize to Seraphina at the engagement party..."

"I'll give you five million, let alone fifty thousand."

His demands sounded so reasonable to him.

He thought this was just a lover's power play about who would cave first.

He thought that as long as I didn't submit, I would eventually have to come crawling back to be his obedient canary.

But he didn't know I was in the ER at Mount Sinai, an hour's drive from his villa.

And my father's surgical window was closing in five minutes.

"I can't go back... I can't leave right now..." I sobbed uncontrollably. "Julian, please, just send the money first to save him? Please, it's his life..."

"Still lying?" Julian lost all patience, his voice turning icy. "Since you refuse to come back, the situation obviously isn't as urgent as you say."

"Elara, don't test my limits. Come find me when you've come to your senses and learned how to be an honest person."

*Beep— Beep— Beep—*

He hung up.

He didn't actually want to kill my father.

He was just too arrogant. He believed in Seraphina's "kindness," and he believed I was lying for money.

He thought that by holding the purse strings, he could force me to bow my head.

He didn't know that the price of his "lesson" and his "test" was my father's life.

"Miss Vance," the nurse said regretfully, putting away the billing form. "Time is up. I'm sorry."

I snapped my head up and wiped the tears from my face.

I wouldn't cry.

Dad was still waiting for me.

I dialed a number that had been gathering dust for years—a loan shark from the New York underground, the kind my father had warned me a thousand times never to touch.

"I need to borrow fifty thousand dollars. Right now. Immediately."

"Collateral?"

I looked toward the emergency room, my gaze steeling over.

"All the paintings my mother left me, and... my life."

The moment I hung up, I knew I had sold myself to the devil.

Julian, for the sake of your pride and your so-called "truth," you personally severed the very last thread between us.

I stared at the red light above the operating room.

*Hang on, Dad.*

*Julian, remember this: every second ticking by right now is a countdown to the knife I will eventually drive into your heart.*