New Year's Eve

St. Vincent’s Hospital – Director’s Office

"Elara, are you certain you want to join the medical team in the countryside?"

The director of surgery looked at her with regret. She was still recovering, her hand a painful reminder of all she had lost.

"I understand your concerns about your brother-in-law," he continued. "Take your time to think it over. When you're sure, come back and sign."

Elara Whitmore glanced down at her injured hand. Once the hospital’s most promising surgeon, she had been hailed as a medical genius. Now, she could no longer even hold a scalpel.

Without hesitation, she picked up the pen and signed the application form.

"I've made my decision."

The director sighed, accepting the paper. "Since you're certain, go home and prepare. You’ll depart with the team on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month."

——

Elara nodded and left the office.

Outside, a voice called out. "Doctor Whitmore, you're not going home for New Year's Eve?"

A colleague spotted her from a distance, about to greet her, but a nearby nurse quickly pulled them aside.

"Don't you know? She tried to seduce her own brother-in-law and got thrown out. How shameless can she be?"

Elara tightened her grip on the resignation letter in her hand. She had heard the whispers a thousand times before, yet each word still pierced her like a needle to the heart.

After leaving the hospital, Elara wandered the streets like a homeless vagrant, aimless and lost.

The cold night air bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill seeping into her bones. Just as she was about to turn a corner, a couple appeared before her—leaning into each other, their bond unmistakable.

Her breath caught.

She wanted to flee, like a guilty child caught in the act. But before she could move, a mocking voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Sister-in-law, out so late? Sneaking off to meet some wild man?"

The words dripped with disdain.

Elara’s body tensed. Slowly, she turned to meet Stellan Pierce’s piercing gaze, his eyes filled with contempt.

She bit her lower lip, refusing to respond.

Seeing her silence, Stellan stepped forward, gripping her chin with one hand, his touch forceful and unyielding.

"Why aren't you answering?"

Elara tried to pull away, but his military-trained strength held her in place. The weight of his presence—his authority—made resistance futile.

"I didn’t," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Stellan didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers tightened.

"Didn’t you?" His voice was laced with mockery. "Funny, because I remember my sister-in-law as a fickle woman with no moral bottom line. One who even dared to seduce her own brother-in-law."

Elara’s face drained of color.

"I never seduced anyone," she said, her hands clenching into fists.

Stellan let out a cold laugh. "Really? Then tell me, five years ago—did you not seduce me?"

His words dragged her back to a bitter winter five years past.

For three years, they had been together. She had been his everything. Until, on a night colder than this one, she shattered his heart.

"I've fallen for someone else. You're just a low-ranking officer—how could you ever be good enough for me? The man I marry needs to be a high-ranking commander."

No matter how desperately he tried to hold onto her, she never looked back.

Later, he rose through the ranks, working relentlessly until he became the head of the regiment. And when he did, he turned and proposed—to her sister, Juliet Whitmore.

No one knew that on the night of their engagement, Elara had jumped into the river. No one knew how she had been rescued.

She had been the adopted daughter of the Whitmore Family, and from the start, they had controlled her fate. They had threatened her with Stellan’s future, forcing her to walk away from him.

The more he hated her, the more pain coiled in her chest.

A soft, delicate voice suddenly broke through the tension.

"Stellan, my feet hurt."

Elara’s thoughts shattered.

She watched as Stellan instantly released her, turning his full attention to Juliet.

"Your feet aren’t healed yet, and you walked so far today?" he said, concern evident in his tone.

Without a word, Stellan scooped Juliet into his arms. As he turned to leave, he cast Elara a cold glance.

"Your sister got injured because of you. Shouldn’t you go back and take care of her?"

Then, without waiting for a response, he walked away, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade.

Elara lowered her gaze to her bandaged hands. Beneath the gauze, the wounds were still raw—jagged scars left by shattered glass just a week ago.

That night, she and Juliet had argued over the past, over the lies that had ruined everything. In the heat of the moment, Juliet had shoved her down the stairs, sending her crashing into a porcelain vase.

Yet somehow, the story twisted. By the time the dust settled, it was Elara who had become the villain.

"She tried to seduce Stellan again," Juliet had cried, her voice trembling with well-practiced innocence. "When I confronted her, she got angry and pushed me down the stairs!"

Elara had denied it, had fought to defend herself, but it didn’t matter.

Stellan had already made up his mind.

The betrayal from five years ago had hardened him, and now, every accusation against her was a confirmation of the woman he already believed her to be.

A year ago, tragedy had struck—the Whitmore Family mansion had gone up in flames, taking her adoptive parents with it. In the aftermath, Juliet had moved into Stellan’s home. And with nowhere else to go, so had Elara.

But this wasn’t a home. It was a prison.

As soon as she stepped through the door that night, Stellan seized her wrist, dragging her into the living room before she could even take off her coat.

"Juliet’s legs hurt. You should massage them. And wash her feet while you’re at it."

Elara’s breath caught in her throat.

Juliet sat comfortably on the sofa, a basin of warm water placed before her, waiting.

"Stellan, Elara's hand is still injured. This isn't right," Juliet said softly, a gentle smile on her lips.

Elara clenched her fists. That fake kindness—it was suffocating.

When she didn't move, Stellan shoved her forward. "Juliet's leg was injured because of you. You owe her this."

"I don't owe her anything," Elara bit out, her teeth clenched to hold back the tears stinging her eyes.

Stellan’s patience snapped. Grabbing her injured hand, he forced it into the basin of water. A sharp, searing pain shot through her, making her body tremble.

"You owe Juliet," he said coldly. "And you owe me even more."

He knew exactly how to break her.

"Massage Juliet. You’re a doctor, aren’t you? You should know how to make her feel better."

The words stabbed deep, but Elara swallowed the pain and did as he said. With each movement, her torn skin protested, and soon, the water in the basin turned bright red.

"Ah! Blood!" Juliet shrieked.

A second later, her foot lashed out, kicking Elara square in the face.

The impact sent Elara crashing to the ground, the basin spilling beside her. Water and blood mixed beneath her hands, her vision spinning.

"Get out of my sight!" Stellan’s voice was like ice. "You can’t even do something this simple. If you scare Juliet again, I won’t let you off."

Then, as if she were made of porcelain, he scooped Juliet into his arms. She curled against his chest, looking fragile and shaken.

"Elara, don’t blame me for reacting this way," she murmured, gently resting a hand on her stomach. "The first three months are the most important. This is Stellan’s and my first child—I have to be careful."

The words were like a thunderclap in Elara’s mind.

She knew this day would come, but the reality of it still crushed her. Her throat tightened as if invisible hands were strangling her.

She looked up at Stellan, searching for something—anything—in his face. But he wouldn’t even meet her gaze. Without a word, he carried Juliet upstairs, disappearing into the bedroom.

Elara stood frozen before finally dragging herself back to her room. Her hands trembled as she treated the wound, each movement mechanical, detached.

Then, she reached for the rural appointment form.

Her last escape.

If she didn’t sign this form, there was still a chance to turn back. But if she did…

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She hesitated before opening it.

Stellan stood there, his face unreadable.

"This is medicine from the army." His voice was gruff.

Elara didn’t reach for it, but he shoved it into her hands anyway.

"Go out with hands like that, and people will think I—your brother-in-law—bully you at home."

Stellan’s gaze flickered toward the blood-soaked gauze Elara had tossed into the trash. A trace of something—guilt, perhaps—flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before it could take root.

His expression darkened when his gaze landed on Elara’s desk. Without warning, he strode over, his movements sharp with anger.

Elara’s heart clenched.

His hand reached toward the appointment form—

But then, his fingers bypassed the document entirely and picked up a photograph instead.

"This is the man you've been thinking about all these years?"

His voice dripped with accusation.

Elara’s stomach twisted as she saw what he was holding—a picture from her college days, a group photo with her classmates.

Stellan’s grip tightened as he yanked her closer, his eyes boring into hers as if trying to see through her soul.

"Elara, are you that desperate? After all these years, you still can't forget a man?"

Elara met his gaze, unflinching.

"I'm not. That’s just my classmate."

Her voice was steady, but the defiance in her dark eyes only seemed to provoke him further.

Without thinking, Stellan lowered his head and kissed her.

Elara immediately turned away, but that only fueled his anger.

"Aren’t you cheap? Didn’t you miss a man? Then I’ll satisfy you today—"

With that, he shoved her onto the bed, his presence suffocating, his weight pressing down on her. Elara opened her mouth, about to fight back, to tell him the truth—

But then, a voice rang from outside.

"Stellan, my stomach feels a little uncomfortable… I wonder if the baby is hungry."

Juliet.

Stellan froze.

In the next second, he pushed Elara away as if burned.

"You’re nothing special."

The words cut through her, peeling back layers of pain and humiliation and throwing them into the gutter.

He stood, his face cold, his presence even colder. When he reached the door, he glanced back, his tone emotionless.

"Go to the kitchen and make something for Juliet."

Then he was gone.

Through the crack in the door, his voice drifted down the corridor, soft, gentle—so unlike the man who had just been in this room.

"Juliet, you’re pregnant and you’ve sprained your ankle. If you need anything, just ask your useless sister to do it. Just rest."

Elara sat up slowly, the weight in her chest suffocating.

Her gaze fell on the appointment form.

This time, there was no hesitation.

She picked up a pen and signed her name.

After tending to her wounds, she went to the kitchen, prepared a bowl of noodles, and carried it to Juliet’s room.

The door was slightly ajar.

Inside, the two figures on the bed were entwined.

"Stellan, the doctor said to be careful in the first three months," Juliet’s voice was sweet, coy. "Can you be a little gentler?"

Stellan’s deep voice murmured against Juliet’s neck, “Juliet, I love you.”

Elara clutched the bowl of noodles so tightly that tears slipped from her cheeks and fell into the broth. Outside, fireworks lit up the sky, but inside the mansion, she felt utterly alone—a discarded soul amidst the celebration.

The next day, Elara went downstairs and found the old nanny, Celeste, bustling in the kitchen.

“Miss, please wake up. I made chicken soup for Miss Juliet. Would you like some?”

Juliet shook her head and prepared to head out. Celeste’s eyes fell on the bandaged wound on Elara’s hand, and she sighed.

“Miss Elara, what about your hand? Aren’t you going to explain what happened to the team leader?”

Celeste, a long-serving member of the Whitmore household, had once been destined to return to her hometown when things went awry. But Stellan, fearing that Juliet wouldn’t adjust to life on her own, had asked her to stay and care for her instead.

For a moment, Elara remembered the echo of “I love you” that Stellan had whispered to Juliet. The memory only deepened her sorrow.

“There’s no point in explaining,” she replied quietly, resigning herself to her fate.

With that, Elara gathered her resolve, left the mansion, and went to the hospital to hand in her appointment form.