I woke up from a pain that drilled straight through my skull. A dull, throbbing ache at my temple mixed with a tearing sensation, and the moment I opened my eyes, tears surged up uncontrollably.

The smell of disinfectant was strong—so strong it tightened my throat and made my stomach churn. Instinctively, I lifted a hand to press the wound at my forehead, but my wrist hadn’t even reached halfway before someone slammed it down.

“Don’t move!” The nurse changing my dressing sounded urgent. Her fingers pressed on the IV in my wrist as she frowned. “Your line was just placed—if you move around, it’ll infiltrate. You got thirteen stitches on your forehead. The cut was deep. If you keep messing with it, it won’t heal well, and you’re going to scar.”

My hand froze in midair, my gaze drifting slowly to the IV bag above my head. The clear liquid dripped down the tube at a slow, steady pace, carrying a chill with it. I parted my lips—my throat was so dry and raw that every word scraped painfully.

“I… why am I in the hospital? Who brought me here?”

The nurse cleared up the tray as she answered casually, “Your boyfriend brought you in. He said you two had a fight, you got emotional, and you hit your own head with a vase. It caused quite a commotion.”

“He paid the hospital bill and left,” the nurse added, pausing briefly, her tone edged with helpless advice. “He said he had an urgent business engagement. He also specifically told me he hired a caregiver for you, so you can focus on healing. Honey, no matter how mad you get, you can’t gamble with your life. If that hit had been a little lower, your eye would’ve been in danger.”

Hit my own head?

My pupils shrank sharply. My fingertips turned ice-cold and started trembling—so much that even the fluid in the IV line felt like it had gone colder. Every word the nurse said hammered into my chest. I went cold all over, as if my blood had frozen solid.

I let out a low laugh. The sound was full of bleakness. Tears slid down my cheeks and dropped onto the white fabric of my hospital gown, blooming into a small wet stain.

So in his eyes, I was that kind of person—hysterical, unstable, pathetic?

All those years he claimed to treasure me, to hold me like something precious—so it had all been fake. I was nothing more than a stepping-stone in the relationship between him and Vanessa Bennett, something that could be sacrificed at any moment.

A ridiculous curiosity rose inside me: that “urgent business engagement” he mentioned… was he really by Vanessa’s side right now?

Were the two of them leaning together on a couch at this very moment, him gently blowing on the tiny cut on her fingertip, saying the same sweet words he once said only to me?

Enduring the stabbing pain in my forehead, I used my right hand—my free hand—to fumble for the phone on the bedside table. My fingers shook so badly that it took three tries for the fingerprint unlock to work.

I didn’t look at any unread messages. I went straight to social media, and Vanessa’s newest post was right at the top.

The caption was just one line, dripping with deliberate sweetness:

“Even if I’m not a princess, I can still meet a knight who’ll protect me with everything he’s got~”

Three photos were attached.

In the first, Vanessa sat on a sofa at home, slightly pouting, her right fingertips extended with a cartoon Band-Aid stuck on them. The wound was so shallow it looked like a tiny red dot—almost invisible.

In the second, Liam Foster knelt on one knee on the carpet, carefully cradling her hand as his brows knit tight, his eyes filled with pain and worry, as if she’d suffered some terrible injury.

In the third, the two of them posed together. Vanessa leaned against Liam’s shoulder, smiling. Liam’s gaze stayed glued to her face—soft, tender, devoted.

That look… had once belonged only to Clara Bennett.

I recognized it at a glance. The cut on Vanessa’s fingertip was from yesterday—when she smashed the vase into my head, and a shard of porcelain had accidentally nicked her.

I’d gotten thirteen stitches. Blood everywhere. I’d nearly died. And in his mouth, it became, “She hit her own head.”

But Vanessa’s tiny scratch—this barely-there wound—was enough to make him panic and ache, as if he wanted to place the entire world at her feet.

I stared at the screen, hard, until my fingertips turned white from the force and my knuckles creaked. The glow of the phone reflected in my reddened eyes. Every memory of being with Liam—every promise he’d made, every vow he’d sworn—stabbed into my heart like knives.

It hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. My throat tightened until it felt blocked, and I couldn’t even make a sound.

I forced myself to breathe for a full half-minute before I finally swallowed down the choking lump in my throat.

Then I opened my photo album and pulled up the surveillance footage from the villa’s living room—something I’d installed a while ago, just in case Vanessa tried anything. A hidden micro-camera tucked behind a decorative piece.

On the video, Vanessa’s motion as she raised the vase and smashed it into me was crystal clear. So was her arrogant laugh afterward.

Once I confirmed the evidence was complete, I dialed the police without hesitation. My voice was hoarse, but every word came out unmistakably clear.

“Hello. I want to report an assault. Someone deliberately injured me, and I have complete surveillance footage as evidence.”

In less than an hour, the hospital room door was shoved open violently—bang—slamming against the wall and shattering the silence.

Liam walked in wearing a silver-gray suit, pressed perfectly flat. His shirt collar was buttoned, tie in place, hair combed immaculately—obviously he’d rushed over from some formal event.

But there was not a trace of worry on his face. Only blame—thick, heavy, impossible to miss.

The moment he stepped in, he barked at me, his voice low and harsh, full of impatience and anger.

“Clara Bennett, are you out of your mind? Vanessa is your half-sister! It was just a small dispute between sisters, and you actually called the police to accuse her of intentional injury? Are you trying to ruin her?”

“A small dispute?”

I leaned against the headboard and slowly lifted my gaze to him. There was no retreat in my eyes—only a cold, dead stillness. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. The movement pulled at the wound on my forehead, sending pain flaring through my skull, yet I didn’t care.

The sarcasm in my voice was impossible to hide.

“She smashed a heavy celadon porcelain vase into my head. I needed thirteen stitches. I almost died. And you call that a small dispute? Liam Foster—how far does your heart have to tilt? In your eyes, is my life really worth less than one of her fingers?”

Liam’s brows tightened further. His face darkened into something frightening, his tone hard and absolute.

“This really was Vanessa being impulsive. I already said something to her, and I told her to message you and apologize. We’re family—we’ll see each other every day. If this goes to the police station, it’ll damage everyone’s reputation—especially yours. You just came out of that kind of scandal. If you blow this up, who would still want you?”

He paused, then ordered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re calling the police right now to withdraw the report. This ends here. I’ll have Vanessa come visit you more—consider it compensation.”

“An apology? Compensation?”

It was like I’d heard the funniest joke. I suddenly laughed out loud—sharp and shrill—echoing through the quiet hospital room like something breaking. I laughed until tears poured down my face, until my chest ached from it, and only then did I stop.

I stared at Liam and asked, each word deliberate, cutting, unmistakable:

“I got thirteen stitches. I almost died by her hand. And a light, casual apology is supposed to erase all of that? Liam Foster, tell me—who exactly is she to you? The little sister I’m supposed to ‘let win,’ or the person you protect at the tip of your heart? Your tenderness toward her, your coldness toward me—how could it be any more obvious?”

Something in my words struck a nerve. A flicker of panic flashed through Liam’s eyes—too fast to hold onto—then anger swept over it.

He stepped forward, looming over me, the disgust in his voice completely unhidden.

“Don’t be ungrateful! I’m only taking care of Vanessa because of you. And instead of appreciating it, you’re maliciously twisting things and implying there’s something going on between us?”

“Clara Bennett, how did you become like this? So vicious, so petty—clinging to the smallest thing! Where did the gentle, sensible you go?”

“I’m vicious?”

I clenched the bedsheet beneath me so hard my knuckles turned white, the fabric crumpling into a tight knot. The grievance, rage, and pain I’d held down for far too long finally exploded.

I screamed until my throat burned, tears falling like broken pearls.

“Liam Foster! You turned Vanessa Bennett’s explicit photos into mine, shoved me onto the chopping block of the entire internet, let them call me promiscuous, say I was sick, say I might have HIV—then you publicly ended our engagement. And you didn’t think that was vicious?”

My voice shook with sobs, yet every word still landed clean and sharp, like a blade slicing through Liam’s hypocrisy.

“For her, you threw filth on me for the ninth time, destroyed my reputation and my dignity—and you didn’t think that was vicious?!”

I forced the words out through tears, my gaze burning into him.

“If you cared about Vanessa Bennett that much, why did you get with me in the first place? What was I to you? A stepping-stone for your relationship with her? Or just some disposable entertainment when you were bored?”

Liam looked as if he’d been punched. For a second, unease flashed across his face. He even took a half-step back, then forced himself to argue back, his voice no longer as firm as before.

“I… I was with you because I loved you! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even bother with Vanessa!”

He paused, as if suddenly coming up with a way to “make it up” to me. His tone softened, but it carried a lofty arrogance, as if he were granting me something.

“I know you’ve suffered. I already called in favors and had the report withdrawn. You focus on healing. When you’re better, I’ll give you a grand wedding—consider it compensation.”

As he said it, his chin lifted slightly, smugness filling his eyes—like that wedding was some enormous gift, enough to erase all his betrayal and damage, enough to make me fall into grateful tears.

I looked at him like this, and my stomach twisted. The last lingering attachment I had to the past finally crumbled into ash.

Back then, he used to trail after me, eyes bright, clinging to me with boyish excitement, promising he’d marry me after graduation, promising he’d give me the grandest wedding in the world so everyone could bless us.

Back then, he sounded devout and sincere. He remembered the bouquets I loved, the dresses I liked. He would excitedly plan every detail with me as if giving me a wedding was the luckiest thing that could ever happen to him.

But now, the wedding he once begged to give me had become a tool—something to dismiss me, something to “compensate” me with.

---

For several days in a row, Liam Foster didn’t set foot in the hospital even once.

I didn’t care at all—in fact, I found it peaceful. Every day, I changed my dressings on time and focused on healing, my only hope fixed on the day I could be discharged—half a month more, and I’d be on a plane to a foreign country, leaving this city full of betrayal and hurt forever.

But on the morning I was preparing to be discharged, the hospital room door was pushed open gently, and an unwelcome guest walked in.

It was Vanessa Bennett.

She carried a delicate food container in her hands. The arrogant, domineering look she usually wore was gone. Instead, she bit her lower lip lightly, her eyes rimmed red, looking fragile and pitiful. She tiptoed to my bedside, her voice soft like cotton.

“Sister Clara, I know I was wrong before. This is chicken soup I made myself. Try some—just… just take it as me making amends. I hope you can forgive me.”

I didn’t respond. I just stared at her coldly, because I knew Vanessa never showed kindness without a reason.

Sure enough, Vanessa hesitated, rubbed her fingers together, and spoke carefully.

“Um… the company wants to build me an ‘academic genius’ image lately, and you’ve won so many competition trophies before—it’s really convincing. Sister, could you lend me those trophies for a while? Just for a bit. I’ll return them after I finish filming the promotional materials.”

Lend trophies?

I almost laughed at how outrageous her request was. Those trophies were honors I’d earned after countless sleepless nights and endless practice problems. They were the only light left in my dark youth. I curled my lip, the mockery in my tone undisguised.

“If you want to pretend you’re a genius, go earn it yourself. Or what—can’t pass, don’t have the ability, so you want to borrow someone else’s achievements to make yourself look good?”

After saying that, I withdrew my gaze, turned around, and continued packing my things for discharge, not even bothering to look at Vanessa again.

After being choked off like that to my face, the fragile expression on Vanessa’s face cracked for a split second. A flash of malice darted through her eyes. But she quickly pulled it back, stepped forward, and lifted the container toward me, her voice trembling with tears.

“Sister, I’m only borrowing them, it’s not like I won’t give them back. How can you say that about me? I know you’re still angry, but I really need this opportunity…”

I didn’t budge. I kept packing the items on the table.

Seeing I wouldn’t take the bait, Vanessa’s eyes flicked sideways. She deliberately set the container at the edge of the table, leaving more than half of it hanging over the side. When she saw I still didn’t react, she hardened her heart and suddenly loosened her fingers.

Clang—

The container crashed to the floor. Scalding chicken soup splashed out instantly, spreading across the ground. The air filled with a rich, heavy aroma mixed with the sharp sound of porcelain shattering.

Almost at the same time, the door was shoved open violently, and Liam rushed in. The first thing he saw was the mess on the floor—and Vanessa’s red-rimmed eyes. He strode over and immediately pulled her behind him, his voice packed with panic.

“Vanessa, are you okay? Did it burn you?”

Vanessa bit her lip. Tears fell like broken beads, but she didn’t say a single word—she only shook her head pitifully.

Liam looked even more distressed. Without asking permission, he lifted her skirt hem, and when he saw the faint red mark on her calf, the pain in his eyes turned into fury in an instant.

He whipped his head toward me, accusation in his voice sharp as an ice spike.

“Clara Bennett! You’ve gone too far! Vanessa came here to apologize to you and bring you chicken soup—she’s done this much already. Why do you still have to make everything difficult for her?!”

“I’m making things difficult for her?”

I stopped packing, turned to face him, my chest rising and falling violently with anger—so furious I almost laughed.

“She came to borrow my trophies. I said no. And that means I’m making things difficult for her? Liam Foster, just how far does your heart lean? It’s probably sunk into the Mariana Trench by now—so far you’ll never pull it back!”

I pointed at the wreckage on the floor, my voice cold enough to freeze.

“She dropped the chicken soup herself, and you come in here blaming me without even asking what happened? If you protect her so much, if you feel sorry for her so much, then just be with her already! Why keep coming to provoke me at all?!”

I thought that even if Liam favored Vanessa, hearing those words would snap him into some kind of clarity.

But instead, his anger burned hotter. The disgust in his eyes scraped across my face like a blade as he cursed me word by word.

“Clara Bennett, stop twisting the truth! Vanessa is your half-sister. She’s been so good to you, and you treat her this viciously—doesn’t your conscience hurt?”

“It’s just a few stupid trophies. You think they’re that precious?”

His voice dripped with contempt.

“Your reputation is already completely ruined anyway. The whole internet knows you’re a promiscuous slut—what use are those trophies to you? You might as well lend them to Vanessa. At least you’d be helping her!”

The word “slut” was like a poisoned blade, stabbing straight through my heart.

After saying that, Liam didn’t even look at how pale my face had gone, or how my body was trembling. He simply scooped Vanessa up in his arms and hurried toward the door, his voice urgent.

“Vanessa, don’t be scared. I’m taking you to get it treated right now. It won’t scar.”

The room fell silent in an instant, leaving only the spilled chicken soup and shattered porcelain on the floor.

I stood there rigidly, as if every drop of blood in my body had frozen. Liam’s vicious insult echoed again and again in my head.

I was a slut?

After everything that had happened—my name destroyed, my reputation shattered, the whole internet spitting on me—wasn’t it all caused by him?

He was the one who turned Vanessa’s explicit photos into mine. He was the one who publicly ended our engagement. He was the one who threw filth on me again and again. He was the one who personally pushed me into an irreversible abyss.

And now he turned around and cursed me with the most vicious words?

Liam Foster, you really are something.

The crushing pain in my chest made it hard to breathe. And only then did I belatedly notice a burning pain spreading over my calf.

I looked down. A large section of my pant leg was soaked in chicken soup. My skin had already blistered into a swollen red patch, and along the edges, tiny beads of blood were starting to seep out.

I clenched my teeth, forcing down tears and pain. I bent over to pick up my luggage, limped out of the hospital room, and went to the emergency department downstairs alone to have the burn treated.

By the time the wound was handled and I returned to that so-called “home,” it was already late at night.

The moment I unlocked the front door with my key, my phone rang. It was the admissions office from the overseas school. The teacher on the other end asked gently, “Miss Bennett, hello. About housing after you enroll—would you like the school to arrange accommodations for you?”

I paused, thought for a moment, then refused calmly.

“No, thank you. I’ve already rented a place near the school in advance. I won’t need the school to arrange housing.”

“Alright, then we won’t reserve a dorm for you. Wishing you the best.”

After I hung up, I was just about to push the door open and step inside when Liam’s voice came from behind me, carrying a faint, barely perceptible confusion.

“Renting? Renting what?”

My movement stalled.

I turned slowly, and there, not far away by the elevator, was Liam supporting Vanessa—clearly just returning.

My fingertips twitched, and I ended the call in my hand first. My gaze fell on their interlocked hands—Liam Foster’s palm tightly wrapped around Vanessa Bennett’s hand, intimate in a way that made my stomach turn. Even though I had long prepared myself, knowing he and I had already reached the end, my chest still felt like it was being pricked over and over by countless tiny needles, the pain sharp enough to steal my breath for a second.

I lowered my eyes to hide the sting in them. After steadying my emotions, I looked up at them again, my tone flat, as if I were talking about something unimportant.

“A friend asked me to help her rent a place. Why—do you have a house you’re trying to rent out?”

Liam’s attitude toward me had been growing colder by the day—cold, even cutting. Even if I ever came back to this city in the future, I would never have anything to do with him again. So there was no reason to tell him I was about to go abroad. One more explanation would be one more unnecessary word.

At my answer, Liam’s brows immediately knit together. There was scrutiny in his eyes. Before he could speak, Vanessa cut in first.

“Sister, what are you saying? Isn’t your friend our friend too?” Vanessa leaned into Liam’s arms, her voice sweet to the point of cloying, but calculation glinted beneath her lashes. “I happen to have a one-bedroom apartment downtown. It’s empty anyway—do you want your friend to stay there first?”

I didn’t respond. I only looked at her in silence.

Liam’s face darkened even more. He stepped forward and blocked my way directly, anger practically spilling out of his voice.

“Clara Bennett, and you still have the energy to worry about helping someone rent a place?”

“Vanessa got burned because of you yesterday, and she still has red marks on her leg. How can you stand here so calmly?” His tone was rigid, leaving no room for argument. “You’d better apologize to Vanessa right now and beg her to forgive you. Otherwise, forget borrowing an apartment—don’t even think you’ll get a single opportunity from me, even if you pay to rent!”

After that, he didn’t give me any chance to argue. With his arm around Vanessa’s waist, he strode into the villa, leaving only a cold, indifferent back behind him.

I watched the flicker of smug triumph that flashed in Vanessa’s eyes when she looked back, and a self-mocking smile tugged at my mouth.

I didn’t linger. I turned and went straight back to my room. The moment I shut the door, it felt like all the strength in my body had been drained.

Early the next morning, not long after dawn, I got up. The moment I stepped out of my room, I caught the smell of breakfast drifting from the living room—Liam and Vanessa were sitting at the dining table eating, looking like some loving couple in a cozy domestic routine.

Vanessa glanced at me and deliberately lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As she moved, a patch of deep and shallow kiss marks across her neck was exposed completely. She stared at me with open provocation, her tone laced with smugness.

“Sister, there seemed to be a lot of mosquitoes in the villa last night. I got bitten a bunch of times on my neck. Should we have the property management come over and handle it thoroughly?”

Liam lifted his eyes and swept a glance over me. He didn’t say a word. He only picked up an elegant brocade box from the table and held it out to me, signaling for me to open it.

I hesitated for a moment, but I still reached out and took the box. The instant I opened it, a translucent jade bangle came into view—smooth, luminous, its color like distant mountains softened by mist, quiet and refined, unmistakably expensive.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a cold mockery curling on my lips.

“To make me apologize, you really are willing to spend money.”

Vanessa leaned in to glance at the bangle, and jealousy immediately colored her tone. She grabbed Liam’s arm and shook it lightly.

“Liam, I didn’t realize your relationship with Sister Clara is this good. You even exchange such expensive gifts normally.”

Guilt flashed across Liam’s eyes for a split second, and his tone turned slightly unnatural. Avoiding my gaze, he explained to Vanessa.

“It wasn’t specially bought for her.”

Only then did he turn to me, forcing himself to speak.

“The wedding date we set has to be postponed. Clara, take this bracelet as compensation from me.”

The fingers holding the box tightened slightly. I said nothing. I just looked at Liam with a gaze full of mockery.

Postponed?

This was already the ninth time. Every single time, it was because of Vanessa. Every single time, he could use such a casual tone to crush my expectations into dust.

Seeing I stayed silent, Liam looked even more uncomfortable, like he couldn’t sit still. He quickly stood up, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair, and said to Vanessa.

“There’s an emergency at the company. I’m leaving first. Rest at home. Call me anytime if you need anything.”

After that, he practically fled the living room, as if staying one more second would torture him.

Watching his hurried back, I instantly lost any appetite. I set the box down, picked up a slice of bread from the table and took two bites, but it tasted like cardboard. I turned and went back to my room—I simply couldn’t stand the suffocating feeling of being in the same space as Vanessa.

In the afternoon, I took a nap. When I woke up, the sun had already tilted west, spilling through the slit in the curtains onto the floor. I stretched, then habitually reached for my wrist—only to find nothing there.

The silver bracelet my mother had left me—her only keepsake—was gone.

That bracelet had been with me for more than ten years. It had never left my body. My heart sank instantly, emotions flooding up all at once: panic, anxiety, unease… I forced myself to calm down, replaying everything from yesterday to today, trying to remember where it might have been left.

Just as I stood up to go look for it, I heard a soft click from the living room.

I hurried out—and saw Vanessa sitting on the sofa, casually playing with my bracelet in her hand, tossing it high into the air and catching it again and again.

“Give it back,” I said, my voice turning cold in an instant. “Give me my bracelet.”

Vanessa acted like she hadn’t heard me. Instead, she deliberately tossed it even higher. I instinctively reached out to catch it, but the bracelet traced an arc through the air—I missed.

It slammed hard onto the marble floor.

Crack—

A crisp, brutal snap rang out. The silver bracelet shattered into several pieces, scattering across the ground.

“How dare you break my bracelet?” My voice shook uncontrollably, red veins blooming in my eyes. That wasn’t an ordinary bracelet—it was my mother’s last trace, the only warmth I’d ever had to hold onto in this cold house.

Vanessa lifted her head slowly and looked at my collapse. She smiled—triumphant and arrogant.

“Didn’t Liam just give you a new jade bangle, Sister Clara? I’m helping you deal with the old one.” She tilted her head, her voice lazy and cruel. “After all, useless trash belongs in the trash can.”

“Who are you calling trash?!”

I shook all over from fury. The grievance and rage I’d held down for too long exploded completely in that moment.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I rushed forward and shoved Vanessa to the floor, then crouched down, hands trembling as I reached to pick up the broken pieces of the bracelet. Tears spilled out uncontrollably, dropping onto the fragments.