I woke with a violent gasp, suffocation crushing my chest.

It was still dark.

Kent was gone.

A note sat on the nightstand, his bold handwriting impossible to miss.

[Clara, be brave.]

I crushed it in my fist.

The next second, a terrifying sensation of weightlessness slammed into me.

My body was still on the bed, but it felt like my soul had been hurled ten thousand feet into the air—

then dropped.

Wind screamed past my ears.

Then came the sound of bones breaking.

Crack.

Starting at my ankles and climbing higher.

Calves.

Knees.

Thighs.

Pelvis.

Ribs.

Spine.

I felt every bone shift and snap, driving through muscle and flesh.

"Ghk."

A mouthful of blood burst from my lips, splattering across the white sheets.

I was like a fish stranded on shore, my mouth opening and closing, unable to pull in a single breath.

This was what the system made me feel during Violet's wingsuit flight.

Darkness crept across my vision in waves.

Yet through it all, my mind drifted back to the first time I met Kent.

It happened at an art exhibition. I'd been invited as a promising young painter.

He stood in front of my painting for a long time, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.

"Your work has real life in it." He turned and smiled. "I'm Kent Fenton."

After that, he chased me relentlessly.

Flowers.

Movie dates.

Waiting outside my studio for hours just to bring me food.

He used to say, "Clara, you're the most beautiful soul I've ever met. Let me protect you for the rest of your life."

I believed him.

I thought I'd married the love of my life.

Then Violet showed up and shattered every dream I had.

Now the man who once promised to protect me was dragging me into hell with his own hands.

The pain eventually swallowed me whole.

When I woke again, voices filled the house.

The living room was buzzing.

Kent and his friends were laughing.

"Violet's incredible! She broke the regional record this time! The queen of extremes really lives up to her name!"

"Seriously. Unlike some people who sit at home all day being pampered and dramatic."

"Hahaha, don't say that. She's an artist. Of course she's pampered."

I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn't cooperate.

Pain screamed through every bone.

The door swung open.

Kent walked in with several friends behind him.

The second they saw me lying in a pool of blood, their smiles vanished.

"Holy crap! Kent, what... what happened?"

Kent froze.

Then he rushed over and checked my breathing.

"Clara? Clara, wake up!"

I forced my eyes open and looked at him.

There was panic in his eyes.

Concern, too.

But more than anything, impatience.

"Clara, what did you do to yourself?" he said quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. "Violet just landed. Everyone's celebrating her. Can you not make a scene right now?"

Make a scene?

I looked at him and suddenly wanted to laugh.

One of his friends scoffed.

"It's just shared pain. Does she really have to be this dramatic? Violet's perfectly fine. How can the person receiving it be worse off than the one actually going through it?"

Another friend pulled out his phone and held up a photo with a smirk.

"Clara, look. We just took this. Violet says she's going to have a baby with Kent. Maybe you should learn how to be a real mother."

In the photo, Violet was tucked against Kent's chest.

One hand rested on her flat stomach.

She smiled like she already had everything she wanted.

That photo hit me like a slap across the face.

"A baby?" I stared at Kent, my voice raw. "Kent, is it true?"

He looked away and snatched the phone from his friend's hand.

"Don't listen to that crap. They're drunk and messing around." He shot his friends a glare. "Get out."

They left laughing.

The celebration in the living room never missed a beat.

Then Violet's sweet voice drifted through the door.

"Kent, come cut the cake!"

A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

"Clara, they were joking. Don't take it seriously. Why are you always so sensitive?"

Just like that, the blame became mine.

"A joke?" I laughed as tears streamed down my face. "Having your 'girl bro' teach me how to be a mother is a joke?"

"What else would it be?" he shot back. "You think it's real?"

The door cracked open, and Violet poked her head inside.

She'd changed into a clean dress and wore an innocent, worried expression.

"Clara, are you okay? They told me you..." Her eyes turned red. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have done something so dangerous. I'm sorry. Don't blame Kent."

She sounded apologetic, but every word drove us farther apart.

"See? Violet already apologized," Kent said immediately. "She didn't mean anything by it."

"Enough!" I snapped. "Violet, get out! Kent Fenton, I want a divorce!"

"Divorce?" Kent let out a laugh. "What are you throwing a fit about now?"

"I'm not throwing a fit!" I struggled upright, pain making the room spin. "I've had enough. I want a divorce!"

I reached for my phone on the nightstand.

I wanted to call the police.

Call my family.

Kent's expression darkened.

He grabbed the phone before I could.

Then he slammed it onto the floor.

The screen shattered.

"Divorce? Don't even think about it." He grabbed my chin, his eyes cold. "I'm telling you right now—you'll be my wife for life. Don't even try to run."

His grip felt strong enough to crush my jaw.

"Kent, don't. You're hurting Clara." Violet stepped forward, playing peacemaker. "She's just upset. Don't fight with her."

Kent shoved her aside, pulled a bank card from his pocket, and threw it at my face.

"There's five hundred thousand in it. Consider it compensation on Violet's behalf. Behave yourself and stop talking about divorce."

The edge of the card scraped my cheek.

One last humiliation.

He thought money could pay for my pain.

For my dignity.

I looked at him, then at the "pitiful" Violet standing beside him.

All I felt was disgust.

I shoved him away and crawled toward the door with everything I had.

"Help... help!"

Kent caught my ankle and dragged me back.

"Looks like I've been too nice to you." His eyes turned icy.

He pulled a tie from the drawer and bound my wrists to the headboard.

Then he locked the bedroom door.

Outside, I heard him say, "Violet, go have fun with them. I'll have a talk with Clara."

There was satisfaction hidden behind Violet's concern.

"Don't be too hard on her. Clara is still Clara..."

Their footsteps faded away.

I was left alone in the cold room.

In the middle of my despair, I spotted something under the bed.

Something I'd dropped before.

An ultrasound photo.

It was an ultrasound photo I'd kept for a long time.

The only picture of the first child Kent and I ever had.

A year ago, I lost the baby unexpectedly.

It broke me.

Kent held me and told me it was okay. That we'd have another child someday.

Back then, I thought he was just as heartbroken as I was.

Now, I wondered if he'd ever cared at all.

Tied to the bed, I couldn't move.

All I could do was stare at the corner of the ultrasound photo sticking out from beneath it.

Then the door opened again.

Kent and Violet walked in together.

Kent's face was dark.

Violet looked curious—and delighted.

"Kent, why is Clara still keeping this?" Violet bent down and picked up the ultrasound photo. "Oh, a baby scan. From the one she lost? What a shame."

She said it as casually as if she were talking about the weather.

"Give it back!" I thrashed against the restraints, the tie cutting deeper into my wrists.

"Don't get so worked up." Violet waved the photo in front of me. "The baby's gone. What's the point of keeping it? All it does is make you sad. How about I give it a little makeover? Make it cuter?"

She pulled a tube of red lipstick from her pocket.

"Don't!" I screamed. "Kent! Make her stop! That was our child!"

Kent didn't move.

He didn't stop her.

Instead, he stepped forward and pinned me down.

"Clara, stop struggling." His voice was cold and flat. "Violet's trying to make you feel better. Stop acting so ungrateful. The past is the past."

Something inside me died.

As despair settled over me, Violet twisted off the lipstick cap.

Smiling, she drew on the blurry black-and-white image.

A grotesque clown with tears of blood.

"See, Clara? Isn't this cuter?" She held up her masterpiece like a kid showing off a drawing. "A sad little clown baby. Very artistic."

Something inside me snapped.

I don't know where the strength came from.

I tore free from Kent's grip and lunged at Violet like a madwoman.

"I'll kill you!"

I slammed her to the floor and wrapped my hands around her throat.

"Cough—Kent... save me..."

Violet's face turned purple.

Kent finally reacted.

He ripped me off her and slapped me hard across the face.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

I hit the floor hard, my ears ringing.

Kent immediately pulled the shaking Violet behind him and looked at me like I was his worst enemy.

"For something that's already gone, you tried to kill Violet?" His voice was full of disgust. "Clara, how can you be this vicious?"

Something that's already gone.

That's what he called our child.

Lying on the floor, I started to laugh.

Then the laughter turned to tears.

In that moment, I gave up completely.

And finally saw everything for what it was.

Just then, a strange sensation pulsed through the wristband.

Not pain.

Warmth.

Faint.

But real.

I froze.

Behind Kent, Violet suddenly swayed.

The color drained from her face.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, her voice weak.

"Kent... I feel dizzy... my chest feels tight..."

Kent instantly panicked.

"What's wrong, Violet? Are you sick?"

"I don't know... I just suddenly feel so tired..."

Her voice trailed off.

Then her knees gave out.

Kent caught her.

He whirled on me.

"Clara! What did you do to her?!"

I looked at him.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

I think...

I'd just figured out the system's secret.