“Give me the phone!” Nathan’s expression twisted with panic as he lunged at me, grabbing for my wrist.

In the struggle, my injured leg slammed against the floor. A sharp bolt of pain shot through me, and for a moment, everything went black.

When I came to, the phone was gone.

He stood above me, breathing heavily, deleting the photos one by one. Sweat beaded on his forehead—not from guilt, but from exertion. Always a germaphobe, he wiped his hands in disgust and threw me a cold look.

“Madeline, get her out.”

He turned and stalked into the lounge bathroom without another glance.

Madeline approached, her fingers lightly grazing her lower abdomen as she looked down on me with smug contempt.

“I’m pregnant,” she said sweetly. “Nathan said our child will be the only heir of the Blake Family.”

Pregnant?

I blinked slowly, bitterness pooling in my throat.

Once, I was pregnant with Nathan’s child too.

But while he was on the phone with Madeline, I mistakenly took expired vitamins at home—alone. The baby died that night. And he never came home.

Now, the pain in my leg made it hard to even breathe, but I forced myself to stand.

“Heir?” I laughed bitterly. “As long as I’m still his wife, your child is nothing more than an illegitimate one.”

Her smile faltered. But I didn’t stop.

“I’ll give you what you want—I’ll divorce Nathan. You can have the title of Mrs. Blake. But I want the dagger.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? If I give you that dagger, Nathan could go down with your father’s case. You want me to trade his future for a title?”

“It’s true he cheated on me. If I press the issue, I could make him leave the marriage penniless. And you?” I paused, watching her expression tighten. “What if you end up raising that child alone?”

I took a step closer.

“I’ll sign an agreement. I won’t touch Nathan. I won’t even ask him to testify. If I break it, the villa my father left me will be yours—fully transferred.”

She hesitated. I could see the gears turning in her mind.

Madeline had played the long game—pretending to be the perfect woman, worming her way into Nathan’s heart—all for money.

The villa was worth more than enough to tempt her.

But she still frowned. “You’ve been married seven years. What if he doesn’t divorce you? Every time I brought it up, Nathan snapped at me.”

She mimicked his voice: “Madeline, I can give you anything—but not a divorce. I owe Eva too much. Her father raised me. And the company can’t survive without her.”

She used to accept being his hidden mistress. But now that she was pregnant, she couldn’t stand the thought of her child being a secret.

I didn’t reply. I kept glancing toward the lounge door, afraid Nathan would overhear us.

She mistook my silence for weakness.

“I don’t buy it,” she sneered. “What if he still clings to you? What if I’m left looking like the villain?”

Then, her eyes gleamed with an idea.

“Let’s test it. Let’s see who he really chooses.”

She walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a lighter—like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Without warning, she set fire to the curtains.

Flames leapt to life, crawling rapidly up the fabric. The room filled with smoke in seconds.

“Are you insane?!” I gasped, limping toward the door.

But she grabbed my wrist tightly. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave? The real show’s just starting.”

She shoved me deeper into the room, back toward the growing inferno.

The smoke thickened, and soon visibility dropped to nearly zero.

Then, from within the haze, I heard him.

“Eva? Madeline? What’s happening?!”

I coughed violently, struggling to stay upright. My legs trembled beneath me.

“Eva!” Nathan’s voice came closer, panicked. “Where are you?!”

I felt his arms around me. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll get you out.”

For a moment, the urgency in his voice felt real. The Nathan who once loved me... flickered back to life.

He soaked a towel and gently covered my face, then lifted me onto his back.

But just as we reached the hallway, a sharp cry pierced the smoke.

“Nathan! Help me! My throat— I can’t breathe!”

It was Madeline, crouched in a corner, her hands cradling her belly in mock terror.

Nathan froze.

He turned his head and saw her—coughing, crying, clinging to the walls like she was about to collapse.

I felt his hesitation like a dagger in my spine.

She coughed harder, her voice hoarse, her expression pleading.

And just like that, he set me down.

His voice cracked. “Eva… she’s pregnant. I can’t risk it. Wait here—I’ll come back for you.”

He didn’t wait for my response.

He turned and disappeared into the smoke, toward Madeline.

I sat slumped on the floor, alone in the heat and haze. The wet towel on my face had turned scalding, pressing against my skin like fire.

But the burn in my chest hurt far worse.

Thanks to the timely rescue, I survived—but not without consequence.

The smoke had filled my lungs, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

Out of guilt, Nathan sent me to the hospital and stayed at my bedside all night.

He even had the doctor prepare a herbal decoction to help my recovery.

“Drink some of this,” he said softly, gently blowing on the bowl to cool it. “It’ll soothe your throat.”

He brought it to my lips with practiced care.

I stared into the dark, bitter liquid and spoke hoarsely, my voice laced with irony.

“Nathan… you know I hate medicine the most.”

I hadn’t forgotten.

After my miscarriage, I drank countless bowls of this same bitterness, visiting specialists, enduring treatments—hoping to repair my body so we could have another child.

You hated the smell of those herbs.

Said it clung to everything.

You preferred the scent of Madeline’s apartment—light, floral, like the perfume she wore.

The contrast had cut me open then, and the memory still bled now.

I lifted my gaze, searching his face, trying to see if any remorse lived behind those eyes.

His expression tensed. He looked away, then quickly set down the bowl.

“…Drink it if you want. I have something to do.”

And he left.

Moments later, Madeline entered, wearing her usual victorious smile.

“This little test went better than I expected,” she purred. “Seven years, and that’s all it took for Nathan to walk away from you.”

We had already agreed to meet that night for the exchange.

Under the silver moon, at the cliff by the sea, I arrived first.

She stood waiting, the sea breeze teasing her hair, her silhouette like a ghost in the fog.

“I brought it,” she said, holding up a small wooden box. “Where’s the divorce agreement?”

I took the signed papers from my bag—mine and Nathan’s signatures clear on the page—and handed them to her.

Her eyes scanned every word, her expression lit with triumph.

“You actually got him to sign? You really are full of surprises,” she smirked. “Don’t worry—I won’t tell him.”

“I want the dagger,” I said coldly, ignoring her smugness and reaching out.

But instead of handing it over, she clutched the box tighter and took a few quick steps toward the cliff’s edge.

Her voice turned airy, distant.

“Eva… do you know something?”

She looked at me with strange clarity, almost manic.

“I regret it.”

Then—with no warning—she raised her arm and hurled the box into the air with all her strength.

“NO!”

I lunged forward, eyes wide with horror, heart pounding.

The wooden box spun once before vanishing into the black waves below.

Gone.

The last thread of hope for my father—snuffed out by the sea.

My world tilted.

Blinded by rage, I screamed and ran toward her, fueled by anguish and fury.

“Madeline! I’ll kill you!”

But before I could reach her, a force crashed into me from the side.

I hit the ground hard—my body screaming in pain, the impact jarring every bone.

Nathan.

He’d appeared from the shadows and tackled me with full force.

I lay gasping on the cold earth, unable to move, as he ran to shield Madeline.

She clung to him like a terrified dove, trembling in his arms.

“Eva!” he roared, eyes blazing with fury. “You lunatic! Madeline said you were dangerous—and she was right!”

His voice turned cold, final.

“I was going to testify for your father. But after what you just did? Forget it. I won’t be attending the trial. You made your bed—now lie in it.”

He wrapped his arms around Madeline and led her away.

He didn’t even look back.

“Nathan! No!” I screamed, dragging myself across the ground.

But my broken leg gave out again, and I collapsed.

I clawed at the earth, sobbing, helpless.

Despair crashed over me like the waves below the cliff—cold, relentless, drowning me.

Then, my phone vibrated violently in my pocket.

With shaking fingers, I answered.

“Ms. Eva?!” It was Lawyer Carter. His voice was tight with urgency. “Where are you?! The court just moved your father’s final verdict—it's scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine! We’re out of time! Do you have the evidence?!”

The phone slipped from my hands and landed on the dirt.

Tears blurred my vision.

Gone. Everything… was gone.

There was no dagger. No testimony. No time.

And no one left who would save him.

My father's face floated into my mind—tired, worn, but always smiling.

“Eva… Don’t worry about me. Live well.”

But how could I?

How could I live, knowing he would die for a crime he didn’t commit?

There was no hope left.

A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of me.

The door flew open, and a tall man in black jumped out. His voice cut through the fog of despair.

“Eva!”

It was Lucas Grant.

He rushed to my side and helped me up, his eyes full of worry and urgency.

Lucas—once a poor student my father had sponsored—was now one of the most respected private detectives in the industry. I had told him in advance about my plan with Madeline, hoping for a sliver of backup in case things went wrong.

Only when I heard his voice did I begin to feel human again.

I grabbed his sleeve, my body shaking as sobs broke free from my chest.

“Lucas… it’s over… it’s all over. She threw it away—the dagger—into the sea!”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

“She threw it?!”

His voice trembled with fury. He had never liked Nathan—called him an ingrate, a traitor—but out of respect for me, he had always kept silent. Now, his restraint cracked.

I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. My vision swam, and I gagged from the force of my sobs.

Lucas' face was drawn with concern, sweat forming at his brow. Suddenly, he stiffened—then turned and sprinted toward the cliff’s edge.

A moment later, he whirled around, eyes lit with fierce determination.

“Eva, there’s still hope!” he said. “I’ve been to this coast before. The water below is shallow and rocky. If it didn’t drift far, we can find it!”

His words pierced the fog of despair clouding my mind. I looked at him, my eyes still red, but now burning with a flicker of hope.

He grabbed my hand, holding it tight. “There’s still time! Let’s go—we’ll search together. I know a safe path down.”

I nodded with everything I had left in me. “Okay!”

Lucas called his team. Soon, professionals with equipment arrived, setting up detectors and gear along the cliffside. Within minutes, they had calculated the probable landing point of the box.

My heart pounded. I rushed toward the shoreline, ready to jump in—but Lucas stopped me.

“Eva, your leg—don’t forget, it’s still not healed. You can’t risk it. I’ll go down. I promise, I’ll bring it back.”

It was only then I realized how numb my leg had gone—I hadn’t even noticed how much I was leaning on him the whole way down.

So I stood on the shore, gripping my arms tightly as I watched them descend into the water.

Each minute felt like an hour. The sea tossed them like toys, but they didn’t stop searching.

I clasped my hands and pressed them to my chest, silently begging—Please, please…

Finally, just as dawn broke and the horizon began to glow, Lucas emerged from the waves, soaked but smiling.

“Eva! I found it!”

He lifted his right arm, and there it was—the wooden box, dripping but intact, held high in the golden morning light.

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks.

Hope was not lost.

We had no time to spare.

We rushed back to the car, heading straight for the courthouse.

The trial was at nine. At best, we could make it by eight.

But as we neared the city center, the car suddenly stopped.

“What’s going on?” I asked, heart racing.

Lucas jumped out to check.

When he returned, his expression was grim.

“All major roads ahead are under temporary traffic control. Apparently… Blake Corporation reserved the area for some big celebration.”

What?

I opened my phone—and almost smashed it in rage.

Madeline’s social media was flooded with photos: she and Nathan kissing against a sunrise backdrop. In the background, I recognized the very area that was now blocking our path.

“Today, Nathan took me to watch the most beautiful sunrise. He even reserved the whole area to celebrate the 1,825th day since we met. He said he had a big surprise waiting! Stay tuned, everyone~”

I nearly screamed.

Nathan. Madeline.

They had blocked the only road to the courthouse—for their anniversary.

Furious, I called him.

He answered lazily, like he had just woken up.

“Hello?”

“Nathan!” I yelled, trembling. “Today is my father’s final verdict! Why did you block the road?!”

There was a pause. Then he scoffed.

“What are you talking about? The verdict isn’t for another three days. Don’t try to guilt-trip me.”

“You knew it was rescheduled!”

“I don’t know anything about that. Besides, Madeline was scared yesterday because of you. I had to cheer her up.”

His tone turned cold.

“Apologize to her. Right now. Or don’t even think about me testifying to reduce your father’s sentence.”