"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.*

Outside the emergency room at Mount Sinai Hospital, the white walls were as cold as a morgue freezer.

*Tick, tock, tick, tock...*

The wall clock marched on, each second feeling like a boot stomping on my carotid artery.

The money from the underground lender arrived fast; the broker was efficient. But I was still too late.

Just as the expensive shot of adrenaline was pushed into his veins, the curve on the monitor flattened into a piercing, endless line.

*Beeeeeeep—*

That long, high-pitched tone announced the total collapse of my world.

The lead surgeon pushed open the door and pulled down his mask, his face etched with deep regret and helplessness.

"Miss Vance, I am so sorry. The patient arrived too late. The intracranial pressure was too high, leading to herniation... If you had been even thirty minutes earlier—no, even ten minutes earlier with the payment—the outcome might have been different."

Ten minutes.

Just because of those ten minutes.

If Julian hadn't questioned me with such arrogance on the phone, if he hadn't frozen that money to force me to my knees, if Seraphina hadn't spun that web of lies.

That man, holding the power of life and death on Wall Street in his hands, used his self-righteous "need for control" and his blind "trust" in Seraphina to personally sever my father's last lifeline.

I didn't cry. When grief is absolute, tears don't come.

I just mechanically signed the death certificate, watched them cover my father with a white sheet, and push him toward the freezing morgue.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

The screen lit up with a text from Julian.

The timestamp showed it was sent the exact second my father took his last breath.

"Elara, stop making a scene. It's raining outside. I sent the driver to pick you up. As long as you come home now, I'll pretend the lies you told today never happened. I'll transfer that fifty thousand to you as pocket money. Be a good girl, stop being willful."

Looking at the glaring words "good girl" on the screen, I suddenly laughed out loud.

---

Meanwhile, inside the luxurious Manhattan villa.

Julian wasn't chatting with Seraphina like usual. instead, he stood alone by the floor-to-ceiling window, frowning as he watched the rainstorm intensify outside.

He gripped his phone tightly, the screen's light reflecting the anxiety and unease in his eyes.

"Julian," Seraphina wheeled herself over, holding a cup of hot milk. Her voice was soft. "It's so late, why aren't you sleeping? Are you still angry with Elara?"

Julian put away his phone and rubbed his brow irritably. "It's raining so hard. She has no money, and she's so stubborn... Seraphina, do you think I went too far? What if Oliver really..."

After hanging up, he felt more and more panicked. Even though he was convinced Elara was playing the victim to force his hand, he couldn't shake the sound of her desperate sobbing from his mind.

"Why would you think that?"

Seraphina sighed, a glint of calculation flashing in her eyes. She put down the milk and took Julian's hand.

"I know you're soft-hearted. But I was worried too, so I asked Mom to call the nursing home's front desk just now to check."

Julian whipped his head around. "What did they say?"

Seraphina looked innocent, lying without blinking an eye.

"The nurse said Uncle Oliver went to sleep ages ago. His vitals are normal. There was no brain hemorrhage, and definitely no emergency resuscitation."

"Elara... she really is lying to you."

Seraphina lowered her head, acting indignant on his behalf.

"She's probably just upset you cut off her cards and felt her pride was wounded, so she made up this ridiculous lie to scare you. She just wants to see what's more important to you: her 'face' or your principles."

"Julian, this is emotional blackmail. If you go soft and look for her now, she'll think she won. In the future, whenever she doesn't get her way, she'll use Uncle Oliver's health to threaten you."

Hearing this, the sliver of worry in Julian's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by the disappointment and anger of being played.

"Emotional blackmail..." He sneered, clenching his fist. "She's right. I've spoiled her."

He had been worried she was truly desperate. He didn't expect it to be just a prank to force him to unfreeze her accounts.

Joking about her father's life and death—it was simply unreasonable.

"Since she wants to act, let her act to her heart's content." Julian turned his back to the storm outside, his voice hard. "When she's suffered enough out there and realizes she can't take a single step without me, she'll come back begging."

He thought this was his "lesson" to her, a way to maintain his dominance in the relationship.

He was even mentally calculating how he would magnanimously forgive her when she came back to apologize, maybe even buy her that brooch she had been eyeing for a long time.

He had no idea that his self-righteous "principles" were the greatest blasphemy against the dead.

---

Holding the urn that felt incredibly heavy in this moment, I returned to the place my father had cared about most in his life—Vance Manor.

This once-glorious Baroque estate was now sealed with bank tape, about to be auctioned off as Seraphina's "trophy."

Like a ghost, I climbed in through a broken window in the back garden.

My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. The walls, once covered with masterpieces, now bore only mottled outlines. Clutching the urn, I climbed step by step up to the dusty attic.

"Dad, I'm sorry..."

I stroked the cold redwood floorboards, my eyes vacant.

Just as I was preparing to place my father's ashes there temporarily, a loose floorboard caught my attention. There seemed to be a hidden compartment underneath.

Driven by some unseen force, I pried open the board.

Lying underneath was an iron box wrapped tightly in oil paper. Opening it, I found a thick leather-bound diary and a hard drive sealed in an anti-static bag.

A sticky note was attached to the hard drive, bearing my father's shaky handwriting: **[Five years in the making, data finally recovered. This is the best wedding gift for Elara.]**

Trembling, I opened the diary first.

I expected it to be filled with resentment over the family bankruptcy or worries about the future.

But I was wrong.

Every page, every word, was about Julian.

**[December 24, 2023]**

"Today was the first time that kid Julian came home for Christmas Eve. He actually teared up looking at the table full of food, said he was an orphan and never felt the warmth of a family. I patted his shoulder and told him: 'Once you enter the Vance home, you're my own son.' Watching him and Elara unwrap gifts under the tree, I felt this life was worth it."

**[May 20, 2024]**

"Julian hit a bottleneck with his startup, can't sleep at night. I sold that antique pocket watch I've had for thirty years and quietly put the money into his account. I didn't tell him, didn't want to hurt the kid's pride. As long as he succeeds, as long as he can make Elara happy, what do these old bones matter?"

**[August 15, 2025]**

"Today Julian called me 'Dad.' I was so happy I had a couple extra drinks. The kid had a tough start, but he's got grit. He's a good man. I feel safe handing Elara over to him. On their wedding day, I have to personally place my daughter's hand in his and tell him: I don't ask for riches, I only ask that he never fails the apple of my eye."

**[November 1, 2025]**

"My health is getting worse, but I have to hold on. The data recovery team I hired at great expense finally sent good news. The surveillance hard drive from the yacht fire that year is 99% recovered. I know Elara was framed. That Seraphina girl has a wicked heart. Once the data is fully restored, I can clear my daughter's name at the engagement party and sweep away the last obstacle for the young couple..."

Huge teardrops smashed onto the yellowed pages. My heart ached so much I could barely breathe.

It turned out, Dad knew everything.

It turned out, he had been silently protecting us all along.

He loved Julian like his own son, even sacrificing so much in secret to protect Julian's ego.

To his dying day, he thought Julian was a good man for me.

To his dying day, he was paving the way for our happiness.

But he never imagined that the person who would eventually drive him to his death was the "good son" he treated as his own.

Julian, look at this.

This is the old man you claimed "used you" and "looked down on you."

This is the Vance family you said "deserved to die."

He gave you the only fatherly love he had, and you used your arrogance and prejudice to personally pull his plug.

I put down the soaked diary and picked up the hard drive.

Inside was my innocence, bought with the last of my father's time.

After the fire five years ago, the yacht's surveillance system was destroyed. Everyone thought the evidence was gone.

But Dad didn't give up. He spent five whole years searching for the world's top data recovery experts, finally extracting the truth from that charred chip.

I plugged the drive into the tablet I carried with me.

Although the image was a bit blurry, it was still clear enough to see—

Inside the bottom cabin, Seraphina wasn't locked in.

She looked manic. Holding an exquisite lighter, she smiled a terrifying smile at the camera, then personally set fire to the heavy velvet curtains.

Immediately after, she locked the cabin door from the inside, took out her phone, and started dialing 911, instantly switching to a sobbing voice:

"Help... Elara locked me inside... It's on fire... Save me..."

The truth was out.

There was no bullying. No attempted murder.

Only a lunatic who staged a bitter self-injury plot to scam insurance money, eliminate a love rival, and emotionally kidnap Julian.

And for this lunatic, Julian killed the "father" he respected most.

"Heh..."

I laughed out loud in the dim attic. The sound was shrill, startling the crows outside the window.

Dad hid these two things here, originally intending to give us a surprise at the engagement party.

Now, they had become the sharpest butcher's knife.

I wiped the dried tears from my face and tucked the hard drive and diary close to my body.

The deathly silence in my eyes faded in an instant, replaced by a fire of revenge strong enough to burn everything down.

Julian, Seraphina.

You're looking forward to tomorrow's engagement party, aren't you?

Good.

I will attend on time, carrying my father's "last wish."

I will show you what it truly means to kill the heart.

I took out my phone and dialed Julian.

He picked up almost instantly.

"Elara? Where are you?" Julian's voice couldn't hide his anxiety, mixed with a trace of smugness that I had finally bowed my head. "I knew you'd come around. Just come back, I'll listen to whatever you say..."

"Julian."

I cut him off, my voice as calm as the sea before a storm.

"Tomorrow is the engagement party."

"I'll be there on time. And I'm bringing a real 'big gift' for you and Seraphina."

Without waiting for his response, I hung up directly. I pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it into the dust.

In this moment, the Elara who loved Julian died along with her father.