Doctors worked on my brother for a full day and night before he was finally pulled back from the brink of death.

Even so, he remained in a deep coma. No one could say when—if ever—he would wake up.

I stood beside his hospital bed, staring at his tightly shut eyes, my throat feeling as though it were clogged with sharp thorns.

This was all because of me.

My brother ended up like this because of me.

Randall walked into the room, his voice carrying a trace of apology.

“Your brother’s condition was an accident. I didn’t expect him to do something so extreme.”

My nose stung suddenly, and my nails dug hard into my palm.

“As long as you withdraw the lawsuit,” he said, “I’ll bring in the best specialists. I’ll make sure he wakes up.”

My fingers trembled, a wave of nausea surging so violently it almost burst out of my throat.

What right did Randall have?

What right did he have to stand here, wearing the posture of a benefactor, trying to patch up the hell he himself had created?

Every inch of the pain my brother and I were suffering was the result of his careful calculations.

But he hadn’t always been like this.

Seven years ago, he had been nothing more than a student who dreamed of becoming a lawyer.

To stick to that path, he fought bitterly with his parents, moved out on his own, and rented a tiny apartment in the most remote part of the city.

That same year, my cat was poisoned to death.

I held that small, lifeless body and stood outside the police station for a long time. After that, I went from one law firm to another, knocking on doors, explaining what had happened over and over again, begging for nothing more than an answer.

Every response I got was a rejection.

Every one, except Randall.

After listening to my story, he handed me a tissue, his voice deliberately gentle.

“You’re crying so hard I can barely hear what you’re saying.”

I lowered my head, my voice shaking. “I know cases like this aren’t worth much… but it was still a life.”

He squatted down so we were eye to eye.

“I know. And that’s exactly why someone has to take it.”

I hesitated before asking, “This case… can it really be fought?”

He looked up at me, his gaze unwavering.

“I can’t promise we’ll win. But I promise I’ll do everything I possibly can.”

That lawsuit dragged on for several months.

Randall stayed up all night researching, rewrote the complaint again and again over the smallest details, and even though his bank card had been cut off and he was desperately broke, he still comforted me.

“Don’t worry about the money. Let’s finish what needs to be done first.”

In the end, we won.

The perpetrator didn’t go to prison, but he was fined for intentional property damage and forced to issue a public apology.

The outcome wasn’t perfect, but it was the best ending I could have imagined at the time.

It was only later that I learned—that case had been the very first lawsuit Randall ever won.

On the day the trial ended, he hugged me outside the courthouse. He smiled like a boy, bright and unrestrained, his voice impossible to hold back.

“Tara, did you hear that?”

“He admitted he was wrong.”

“So persistence really does mean something.”

In that moment, I was struck by his kindness, and deeply moved by his almost clumsy devotion to justice.

But seven years had passed.

The boy who once argued fiercely over “just a cat,” who celebrated a single victory by hugging someone and cheering, was gone.

He had become just like those people—willing to use any means necessary as long as he won the case.

I forced myself to grit my teeth and calm down.

I forced all the surging emotions back into the deepest part of my heart.

Because I knew that, right now, I still couldn’t go up against him. The support my senior had arranged for me hadn’t arrived yet.

I heard myself speak in a voice that was almost eerily calm.

“Randall, let’s break up.”

The air went dead silent.

Unable to help myself, I deliberately brought up the nineteen failed attempts at marriage registration.

“Look at us. Every time we try to register our marriage, something goes wrong. Maybe it really is fate telling us we’re not meant to be together.”

When those words left my mouth, my chest hurt so badly I nearly couldn’t straighten up.

Letting go of a seven-year relationship was never easy. My brother and I depended on each other, and before all this, Randall had been my second family.

But I thought breaking up was the wisest way to protect myself.

Wasn’t he deliberately tormenting me under the excuse of “repaying a debt of gratitude,” just to delay the marriage?

Then I would give him his freedom outright. I would let him return to the person he truly wanted to be with.

But the very next second after I finished speaking, he suddenly reached out and pulled me tightly into his arms.

“What nonsense are you talking about?!”

His tone was forceful, domineering, and absurd, as if it had never once crossed his mind that I—who loved him so deeply—would propose a breakup.

I struggled in disgust, but he only held me tighter.

“Don’t use breaking up to provoke me, okay?”

“I’ve already compromised. What more do you want from me?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. I didn’t expect your brother to jump off the building. I didn’t want this either. Seeing your brother like that hurts me more than anyone.”

“This is my fault. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Trust me. We’ll go register next week. Once we’re married, everything will be perfect, and your brother will be treated properly and recover safely.”

My body was still too familiar with his embrace. For a moment, I couldn’t push him away.

The remnants of love and pain tangled together, leaving me almost unable to breathe.

Just as I struggled to shove him aside, his phone rang.

Almost reflexively, he released me.

The moment he answered the call, his tone changed completely—gentle, patient, even indulgent.

“Mmm, I know.”

“Tara has already agreed to withdraw the lawsuit. Uncle won’t go to prison, so don’t worry.”

My gaze shook violently, my heart feeling as if it had been scooped out in an instant.

I knew who was on the other end of the line.

It was Samantha.

I didn’t know what Samantha had said on the phone, but the next second, Randall’s expression changed.

“You’re at the hospital? What’s wrong? Where do you feel uncomfortable?”

He only had time to say one hurried sentence to me. “Tara, calm down. I’ll go check on Samantha and come right back.”

Then he turned and left.

He didn’t see the hand I was clutching with gauze—already soaked through with blood from rushing back and forth.

He didn’t ask if it hurt.

In his eyes, my injury and my brother’s life meant nothing compared to a single sentence from Samantha: “I don’t feel well.”

But I clearly remembered how things used to be. Back then, if I so much as nicked the skin beside my nail while cooking, he would notice immediately, panic setting in, his eyes turning red with worry.

How did it ever become like this?

When did the lie really begin—seven years ago, or after Randall moved back to his parents’ home?

‘Randall. Why won’t you agree to break up?!’

Those questions crushed over and over in my mind.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sense of it.

Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from the obstetrics and gynecology department, reminding me to pick up my follow-up test results.

In that instant, my head buzzed.

My memory snapped uncontrollably back to the fifteenth time our marriage registration had failed.

That time, I had been knocked to the ground by a dog that suddenly went berserk on my way home. Blood everywhere. The child I had just conceived was gone before I even knew I was pregnant.

I slowly placed my hand over my lower abdomen.

A chill seeped into my limbs like poison.

And yet, I still couldn’t help thinking, ‘Maybe that time really had been an accident.’

No matter how cold-blooded someone was, they wouldn’t lay a hand on their own child… right?

But when I reached the obstetrics department, I saw Randall and Samantha walking out side by side.

They didn’t notice me at all.

“Randall, I’m already pregnant with your baby,” Samantha said softly, her voice tinged with grievance. “But I can only stay with you like this—without a name or a status.”

Randall lowered his voice as he comforted her. “There’s no choice, Samantha. Our relationship can’t see the light of day.”

“Back then, my dad and your mom were foster siblings who loved each other. With that kind of history, we can never go public.”

Samantha pouted, refusing to let him hold her.

Randall just smiled. He lowered his head and kissed the top of her hair, his tone gentle—and cruel.

“It’s fine. Even if I can’t marry you, so what?”

“My child will only ever be born by you.”

“As for Tara’s, didn’t I already arrange for a rabid dog to take care of it? And I won’t let her get pregnant again in the future.”

Samantha asked coquettishly, “What if she gets pregnant again by accident?”

Randall’s answer stabbed straight into my heart like a knife.

“She won’t.”

“I’ve been adding contraceptives to the vitamins she takes every day. The dosage is high.”

“She can’t get pregnant.”

“After she marries me, she’ll look like the glamorous wife of Atty. Hendershot to the outside world. But only we’ll know the truth—my lover is you, and my only heir will be your child.”

A piercing wave of tinnitus crashed over me. My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor.

And suddenly, I understood why he had refused to break up with me earlier.

At this moment, there was no room left for self-deception.

That child’s death had never been an accident. It wasn’t fate’s cruel joke.

It was a result that had been precisely calculated long in advance.

Done by Randall himself.

He hadn’t just plotted my life and manipulated my choices. Without my knowledge, he had slowly destroyed my body, piece by piece.

He had even used medication to cut off my ability to become a mother—turning me into someone who posed no “future risk” to him at all.

As that realization spread through my mind, I could barely breathe.

It felt like something heavy was crushing my chest. Seven years of memories surged forward all at once. Every detail I had once believed was tenderness and care now revealed its sharp, hidden edge.

Whether he had ever truly loved me no longer mattered.

All I knew was that the harm he had done to me was real.

I trembled with hatred, retching uncontrollably.

If I had a knife in my hand at that moment, I would have stabbed him without hesitation.

Just as my emotions were about to shatter what little reason I had left, a pair of polished leather shoes stopped in front of me.

A shadow fell, blocking the harsh corridor lights.

“Ms. Barnhart, we finally found you.”

The man’s voice was steady and restrained, carrying a presence that was impossible to ignore.

“I’m the lawyer who will be representing you in your upcoming case.”

He reached out and helped me up from the floor, his movements polite yet firm, then placed a business card in my hand.

I didn’t need to look down to recognize who he was.

Erwin Millstein.

Randall’s former classmate—and one of the peers he had feared most over the years. A rising star at a world-renowned law firm, famous for his calm precision, sharp tactics, and utter lack of mercy.

There was a professional smile on his face, but his eyes were deep and nearly cold, as if he had long grown accustomed to staring directly at the ugliest sides of human nature.

At that moment, I felt an unexpected sense of relief.

Like someone drowning, finally grabbing onto a piece of driftwood that wouldn’t break.

Almost instinctively, I clenched the sleeve of his suit, my fingers turning white with force. My voice was low, nearly a plea.

“Attorney… help me. I want Randall’s life completely ruined.”

If before, all I wanted was justice, then now, my resolve was clear and chillingly calm.

I didn’t want compensation.

I wanted payback. Blood for blood.

Erwin looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my face for a brief moment. Then he raised his hand and gently wiped the tears from the corner of my eye with his thumb.

“No one who stands in a courtroom is truly clean,” he said quietly. “Including Randall.”

“The outcome you want,” he continued, “I can guarantee it.”

I stared at him, my voice hoarse. “There are six days left. Is that enough time?”

Erwin smiled faintly. The smile never reached his eyes, but it carried an almost ruthless confidence.

“More than enough.”

“Perfect timing, actually. A week from now is Randall’s televised interview.”

“Let him fall off the cliff at the very peak of his glory. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Erwin looked as if he had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

Hearing his firm, unequivocal promise, the nerves that had been stretched to their limit finally eased just a little.

I sent a message to my senior.

[The lawyer has already met with me. Everything’s been arranged very carefully.]

[Senior, thank you. Truly.]

It took a while before he replied.

I was staring blankly at my screen when my phone suddenly vibrated.

He was calling me directly.

“You’ve met Erwin already?” he asked.

His voice was as calm as ever, but there was noticeably less distance in it than usual.

“Yeah.”

I nodded instinctively, then realized he couldn’t see me and added softly, “He’s very professional. And he’s been very considerate.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

“That’s good,” he said at last.

Something about the way he said those three words felt… off.

“For now, just cooperate with the process. Don’t overthink it,” he continued.

“I’ll take care of the rest.”

My throat tightened.

“Senior, you’ve already helped me so much—”

“I—”

“Tara.”

He cut me off, but his tone wasn’t harsh. “Don’t rush to thank me.”

“Just get through this stretch first.”

“When I finish dealing with what I have on hand, I’ll come find you.”

He said it naturally, calmly—but with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

I fell silent for a moment before answering quietly.

“Okay.”

After the call ended, I had no idea that almost at the same time, another call was being placed.

My senior stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, his expression dark and heavy. Neon lights from outside reflected faintly in his eyes, yet not a trace of warmth remained.

“Erwin.”

The moment the call connected, he said his name outright.

No pleasantries. No preamble.

“I’m warning you,” he said coldly. “Don’t entertain thoughts you shouldn’t have about her.”

A low chuckle came from the other end.

“You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?” Erwin replied lazily. “I haven’t done anything.”

“She’s not someone you get to toy with,” my senior said, his voice turning icy, every word steady and deliberate.

“She’s mine.”

There was a two-second silence on the line.

Then came a soft, ambiguous laugh.

“Understood.”

The response was perfunctory, almost entirely devoid of sincerity.

“Relax. I know my limits.”

Before another word could be said, the call was already disconnected.

At the far end of the corridor, my figure disappeared around the corner.

Erwin put his phone away, slid one hand into his pocket, and stood there watching for a moment.

The curve of his lips was lazy—yet dangerous.

As if he hadn’t taken that warning seriously at all.

When I returned to the hospital room, the tension in my mind snapped tight.

Randall and Samantha were standing by my brother’s bed, doing something I couldn’t quite see.

Almost instinctively, I quickened my pace and stepped between them and my brother. Hatred and vigilance surged up from deep inside me at the same time.

The moment Samantha saw me, a sweet smile bloomed on her face.

“Tara, thank you for being willing to withdraw the lawsuit,” she said softly.

Then, in a gentle tone that cut deeper than a knife, she added,

“You don’t have parents, so maybe you can’t really understand how important parents are to me.”

The words pierced straight into my chest like a needle.

“Oh, right,” she continued lightly. “Tara, the day after tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. Would you like to come over for dinner? We want to thank you properly in person.”

I swallowed down the metallic taste in my throat and rejected her coldly.

“No. My brother needs someone to take care of him.”

Samantha instinctively glanced at Randall, looking flustered and unsure.

Randall frowned and turned to me.

“Tara, there will be a caregiver to look after your brother. You don’t need to stay here all the time.”

“Samantha is my sister. Her family is essentially my family as well. This is a family dinner. It wouldn’t look good for you, as my fiancée, not to attend.”

I refused again, my tone decisive.

“We’re not married yet. I have no obligation to attend your family’s dinner.”

This time, the displeasure on his face finally slipped through before he could fully hide it.

He clearly hadn’t expected me—who had always been obedient—to push back against his arrangements.

After a brief pause, he softened his tone, as if assuming I was just being emotional.

“Since you’ve chosen to be my wife, you need to shoulder the responsibilities that come with that.”

“You have to attend this dinner. Otherwise, your brother’s treatment—”

I snapped my head up and stared at him.

This man I had once loved so deeply.

Even after being hurt so many times, I had still underestimated just how ruthless he could be.

To force me to submit, he was using my brother to threaten me again.

I still remembered how he used to tell me that as long as I didn’t want to, he would never force me to face his parents.

But with Randall, I would always come second to Samantha.

Thinking of the conversation I’d overheard not long ago in the obstetrics department, my mind suddenly shifted.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

I wanted to see for myself just how much filth the Hendershots and the Massrys were hiding beneath the surface.

Samantha’s birthday “family dinner” was ultimately held at the Hendershots’s mountain estate.

I sat at the very end of the long table, watching the two families laugh and exchange pleasantries, warm and familiar with one another.

To them, my tragedy—and my brother’s—were nothing more than idle table talk, incapable of stirring even the slightest emotional ripple.

My gaze swept over Randall’s father, then landed on Samantha’s mother.

And that was when I noticed their feet entwined beneath the table.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and let out a quiet, mocking laugh.

Just then, Jamey slowly lifted his wine glass, his smile thick and greasy.

“Come now, Miss Barnhart,” he said.

“Since we’re all sitting at the same table, there’s no need to keep such a long face.”

His gaze openly traveled over me before finally settling on my bandaged hand. There wasn’t a shred of remorse in his tone.

“Thank you for being sensible enough to withdraw the lawsuit.”

“At the end of the day, making a big fuss doesn’t look good for anyone.”

Catherine immediately followed up, her voice gentle and composed.

“That’s right, Tara. You’re educated—you understand reason. Forcing people into a corner doesn’t do your reputation any favors either.”

William also raised his glass and sighed.

“Child, you have to learn to look forward in life.”

“You’re not in great health right now. Clinging to these matters—what good does it do you?”

Jamey’s smile grew even more self-satisfied, his tone practically condescending.

“As for your hand, to be honest, you were just unlucky.”

“Young people need to suffer a little, so they learn who they can’t afford to offend.”

“Life can’t always go smoothly, can it?”

He extended his glass toward me, his tone firm and final.

“Come. Let’s have a toast.”

“Once you drink this, we’ll consider the matter settled.”