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.

On a stormy night, St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue loomed ominous in the dark.

The familiar black Bentley was parked out front. I had tailed Julian here.

Closing my black umbrella, I slipped through the side door like a ghost, silent and unseen. Under the massive dome, only the sanctuary lamp burned, casting two elongated shadows across the cold marble floor.

It was Julian, and Seraphina in her wheelchair.

I hid behind a massive stone pillar, holding my breath as I listened to their conversation over the rumble of thunder.

"Julian..." Seraphina’s voice held a note of testing insecurity. "The engagement party is tomorrow. Do you... do you have any regrets?"

Julian had his back to her, staring up at the statue of the Virgin Mary. His voice was devoid of emotion. "This is what I promised you. It's what the Vance family owes you."

"But..." Seraphina bit her lip, wheeling herself closer to tug at the hem of his jacket. "You've been out of it for days. Ever since you cut off Elara's cards, you just stare at your phone."

"Are you having second thoughts? Or..." She added a sob to her voice. "Have you actually fallen in love with her? After all, she really did suffer alongside you for three years. If you can't bear to do it, let's just forget the plan... I can handle the injustice..."

Julian stiffened visibly.

That moment of silence was amplified infinitely in the empty church.

I stood in the shadows, watching his back. He was struggling. Teetering on the edge of reason and emotion.

But in the end, he didn't choose me.

He slowly crouched down and took Seraphina's hand. His eyes turned gentle again—or perhaps, he was just trying to convince himself.

"Don't overthink it, Seraphina. What I feel for her is mostly just... habit."

"She made a mistake, and she has to be punished. I took her company to reclaim what belongs to you. Tomorrow's engagement party is the final step."

"I will make her kneel and apologize to you in front of everyone. I'll make her admit what she did back then. As long as she bows her head and you get your revenge, this will all be over."

"I promise you, after tomorrow, she will never be arrogant in front of you again."

Seraphina smiled through her tears, leaning into his embrace, though a flash of malice flickered in her eyes. "I knew you were the most just man in the world, Julian. I'll go wait in the car. The rain is heavy, and I'm not feeling well."

"Okay. Let the driver take you back. I want to stay here alone for a while."

When Seraphina left, the heavy church doors swung shut again.

Julian was left alone in the vast space.

The tenderness vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a deep exhaustion and confusion.

There was no priest. He knelt alone before the statue of the Virgin Mary, hands clasped, looking like he was praying—or perhaps delivering a monologue of self-deception.

His voice was quiet, but in the deathly silence of the cathedral, every word drilled clearly into my ears.

"Lord, I have sinned."

"I always thought I hated Elara. I thought everything I did was to bring justice for Seraphina. But why... why does my heart ache so much when I imagine her being condemned by the world tomorrow?"

"I have to admit, in this three-year game of revenge, I... I fell for her."

Hearing this, I didn't feel moved. I felt bile rise in my throat. Fell for me? Trampling my dignity into the dirt and forcing my father to his death—that’s your idea of falling for someone?

Julian lowered his head, his voice taking on a tone of naive, almost charitable planning.

"But I can't stop. Seraphina lost her legs because of her, and I have a responsibility to give Seraphina closure. Tomorrow's engagement party is Elara's final atonement."

"As long as she kneels on that stage and apologizes to Seraphina, I will forgive her."

He looked up at the compassionate face of the Virgin Mary, his eyes gleaming with a self-righteous, fanatical light.

"I've already planned it out. Once the ceremony is over and Seraphina has cooled off, I'll take Elara away."

"I'll use the Thorne family name to protect her so she doesn't actually go to prison. I'll keep her in that lakeside villa in Finland."

"Isn't her father sick? I'll hire the world's best specialists to treat him. No matter the cost, I'll save Oliver. That will be my compensation to her."

At this, the corners of his mouth actually lifted in a gentle smile, as if he could already see the picture in his head.

"By then, she should have learned her lesson. She'll learn to stop lying, stop being willful. I'll make her give me a child. Once we have a child, she'll never be able to leave me. We'll live like we did in Brooklyn. As long as she's willing to be the woman in my shadows, I can give her everything except the title..."

"Lord, please bless tomorrow's plan. It will be the starting point for us to begin again."

In the shadows, I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

What a perfect plan. What an arrogant "starting point."

He thought tomorrow's engagement was just a ritual to humiliate me, a way to answer to Seraphina, and a trigger for our "fresh start."

But he had no idea that Seraphina wasn't just planning humiliation—she had forged ironclad evidence of "attempted murder by arson." She was setting up a dead end to send me to prison for life!

He had no idea that the Oliver he planned to "hire experts to save" had already been lying in a cold morgue for three days. And it was precisely because he froze that money to "teach me a lesson" that my father was stripped of his last chance at surgery.

Save Oliver? Julian, you'll have to go to hell to save him.

As for a child... You want me to bear the child of the man who killed my father? To be your secret mistress for life?

Your "deep affection" is simply nauseating.

I watched Julian kneeling there, immersed in his own self-righteousness, and the last spark of warmth in my eyes died out completely.

You think you're in control. You think you're granting mercy. You don't realize you're digging a grave you'll never crawl out of.

"Amen."

Julian crossed himself, stood up, and straightened his collar. He looked much more relaxed, as if he had unloaded a heavy burden and was ready for tomorrow's "win-win" ending.

He turned and walked out of the church, disappearing into the rainy night.

Once he was gone, I stepped out from behind the pillar.

I walked to the spot where he had just knelt and looked up at the statue of the Virgin Mary.

"God won't forgive you, Julian," I whispered.

"Because I won't either."

I took out my phone and confirmed tomorrow's arrangements one last time.

Turning around, I strode toward the door.

Goodbye, Julian.

The morning of the engagement party.

Julian stood in front of the mirror adjusting his bow tie. It was a dark crimson, looking just like dried blood. His phone kept vibrating, the name "Seraphina" flashing on the screen.

"Answer it," I said. I was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of cold coffee, my tone as casual as if I were discussing the weather.

Julian glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He seemed caught off guard that I wasn't throwing a tantrum or giving him the silent treatment like usual. He picked up the phone, his voice instantly turning tender. "Don't worry, Seraphina... I know you're nervous... Is your leg hurting again? Okay, I'm coming to pick you up right now."

He hung up and looked at me somewhat unnaturally, explaining with a tone of charitable patience, "Seraphina says her leg is hurting bad. She can't handle the ride to the castle alone. I'm going to pick her up and take her to get her makeup done."

It was always like this. Every time Seraphina cried pain, he would abandon me without hesitation. Even today, on what was nominally "our" big day.

"Go ahead," I said, putting down the coffee cup. I even gave him a faint smile. "Don't keep her waiting."

Julian froze. He seemed to be scrutinizing me, looking for even a trace of jealousy or resentment on my face. But he failed. I was as calm as a stagnant pond.

"Elara, you're finally being sensible." He walked over, intending to kiss my forehead, but I smoothly dodged him by pretending to reach for something.

His hand paused in mid-air, then he withdrew it indifferently and adjusted his cuffs. "Pack your things. The driver will take you to the castle. Remember to wear the outfit I prepared for you, and don't be late. After tonight, everything will be better."

"Okay, I won't be late," I looked him in the eye and said softly. "I'm sending you a huge gift."

Julian smiled with satisfaction. He thought I had finally submitted, finally willing to bow my head to Seraphina for the sake of that illusory "future."

"Good girl."

With the heavy *thud* of the front door closing, his tall figure disappeared from sight.

The room returned to a deathly silence.

I stood up. I didn't change into that humiliating waitress uniform, nor did I wait for the driver. I picked up the suitcase I had packed long ago, took one last look at this cage I had lived in for three years, and walked out without looking back.

---

10:00 AM, JFK International Airport.

Rain poured down outside, meandering down the massive floor-to-ceiling windows like the tears I had run out of over the last three years.

I gripped a velvet box tightly in my hand. Inside lay the pink diamond ring Julian had once used to propose to me.

On the way to the airport, I had originally planned to mail it back to him. But suddenly, I felt he wasn't worthy. Mailing it to him implied I still had some response to him, even if it was anger.

I walked over to a trash can in the corner, looking at the priceless ring in my hand. Under the cold airport lights, it glinted with mockery.

"Goodbye, Julian."

I opened my hand.

*Thud.*

With a soft sound, the ring fell into the dirty trash, landing among discarded fast-food containers.

In that moment, I felt the final weight lift from my heart.

I pulled out my SIM card, snapped it in half without hesitation, and tossed it into the bin.

The boarding announcement echoed over the intercom. I grabbed my suitcase and headed for security.

This time, I didn't look back.

---

At the same time, Oheka Castle.

The banquet hall was resplendent, the champagne tower refracting dazzling light. The elite of New York had gathered, everyone eagerly awaiting the night's main event—the engagement ceremony between the CEO of Thorne Group and Miss Blackwood.

Julian stood center stage, checking his watch frequently, a trace of irritation flashing in his eyes.

He wasn't worried that I wouldn't come. He was certain I would—for the money, to beg him to "show mercy" and unfreeze the accounts, to save the father he thought was still alive.

"Julian, it's time. Why isn't Elara here yet?" Seraphina sat in her wheelchair, feigning concern as she looked toward the entrance. "Is she throwing a tantrum again just because you came to pick me up this morning?"

"She'll be here," Julian said. "She has no choice."

Just then, the heavy doors of the banquet hall were pushed open.

A spotlight instantly hit the entrance.

A figure walked in against the light, wearing a black gown and a black veil. Her height, her figure, even the way she walked looked exactly like me.

Julian's eyes lit up. He let out a sigh of relief, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile of total control.

"Looks like she finally learned her lesson."

He strode down the steps to meet the figure, lowering his voice. "Elara, wearing this is incredibly immature, but since you showed up, I'll take it as you admitting you were wrong..."

However, when he reached out to lift the veil, the woman took a step back.

She slowly raised her hand and lifted the veil herself.

A completely unfamiliar face appeared before everyone.

The crowd went into an uproar.

"Who are you? Where is Elara?" Julian's smile froze on his face as he demanded sharply.

The model impersonating me wasn't intimidated by his aura.

"Mr. Thorne, Miss Vance said she couldn't make it. She asked me to stand in for her."

Julian's whole body shook, a massive wave of panic instantly gripping his heart.

"What the hell does this mean..."

"Miss Vance said that once you watch this, you'll understand everything."

The model finished speaking and turned to signal the control booth.

The massive LED screen in the banquet hall flickered suddenly. Immediately after, a grainy surveillance video jumped onto the screen.

---

At the same time, JFK International Airport.

I pulled my suitcase through the gate.

Through the massive window, I saw a plane piercing through the rain curtain, flying toward the dawn above the clouds.

Goodbye, New York.

This time, I was truly free.