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.

The director regarded Elara with a trace of regret in his eyes.

She had been the most outstanding doctor he had ever mentored—losing her was a true waste of talent.

After leaving the hospital, Elara walked to a nearby phone booth and dialed a familiar number.

"Van, the hospital has approved my appointment for the rural support program. I'll be leaving on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month."

On the other end, Evander’s voice burst with excitement.

"That’s great! I knew you’d figure things out. Everything’s been arranged—I’m just waiting for you to get here."

After hanging up, Elara stepped out of the phone booth, only for a military jeep to screech to a stop in front of her.

The window rolled down, revealing Stellan’s cold, unreadable expression.

"First day of the new year, and instead of being on duty at the hospital, you’re out wandering around. What are you up to? Looking for another wild man?"

Elara’s face paled. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, a familiar, sickeningly sweet voice cut in.

"Stellan said he’s going to marry me soon," Juliet chimed, poking her head out from beside him. "Today, as a soon-to-be son-in-law, he should pay respects to his future in-laws. You should come too, Elara!"

Stellan cast Elara a cold glance and scoffed.

"Someone as heartless and ungrateful as her? How could she possibly remember the adoptive parents who raised her?"

Stellan blocked her path before she could refuse, leaving Elara with no choice but to get into the car.

At the cemetery, she stood motionless in front of the tombstone, watching Juliet sob dramatically, pouring her grief into the cold stone as if she were the only daughter who had ever mattered.

Elara had come to the Whitmore Family when she was ten years old—along with a fortune.

Her parents, maritime traders, had perished in a tragic accident at sea, leaving her in the care of her aunt, Sylvia Whitmore. With her inheritance, the Whitmore Family quickly secured their place in Westbridge, using the power and wealth she brought to elevate themselves. Eventually, they even leveraged that very fortune to separate her from Stellan.

To say she didn't hate them would be a lie.

A mocking voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"You really are ungrateful," Stellan sneered. "Your adoptive parents raised you all those years, and you can't even shed a tear?"

"Stellan, don't say that about Elara," Juliet interjected with a gentle, understanding tone. "After all, she's not their biological daughter. I can understand her indifference. As long as our Whitmore Family has a clear conscience, that's what matters."

Stellan pulled Juliet into his arms, looking at her with heartache.

"You’re too kind, Juliet. That’s why you’ve always been bullied by this adopted daughter." His voice turned softer, yet his gaze remained locked on Elara, sharp and unrelenting. "Don't worry. From now on, I'll protect you. No one will ever dare to hurt you again."

Elara clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palm, tearing open the wound she had yet to treat.

The ride back was suffocatingly silent. Just as Elara was about to ask Stellan to drop her off at the next intersection, a speeding car suddenly lost control and veered straight toward them.

Stellan reacted instantly, yanking the steering wheel to the side. The impact sent their vehicle careening into a wall.

Elara and Juliet, both seated in the back, were thrown forward at the moment of collision.

At the last second, Stellan turned, shielding Juliet with his body.

Elara, unprotected, crashed headfirst into the windshield.

When the car finally came to a jarring stop, Stellan immediately turned to Juliet.

"Juliet, are you hurt?" His voice was laced with concern.

Juliet clung to him, trembling violently. "Stellan, my stomach... it hurts so much."

Without hesitation, Stellan kicked the car door open and carried her out in his arms.

Blood streamed down Elara’s forehead, blurring her vision. Every breath she took sent sharp, searing pain through her chest, as though her internal organs had been crushed. She tried to lift a hand—perhaps to call out, perhaps just to move—but no one even glanced back at her.

"Stellan," Juliet murmured weakly, her voice laced with hesitation. "What about Elara? She… she looks injured."