Christian's POV

It wasn't just the usual crowd anymore. Even the bored, spoiled trust fund brats were suddenly wide-eyed with excitement, practically bouncing on their heels.

Then, with a sharp crack, a glass bottle nailed me in the side of the head and exploded on impact. The sting of alcohol combined with the warmth of blood as both flowed down my face. My head spun, everything around me lurching sideways like a ride gone off the rails.

The punk who scored the hit shrieked with glee, skipping to collect their $10 million prize from Jillian as if they hit the jackpot.

I didn't have time to be a sitting duck. I knew if I stood there like some helpless target, I'd get torn apart. So I forced myself forward.

I had to keep moving.

That first throw got everyone fired up. Bottles started flying everywhere, crashing like a storm of glass and cheap whiskey. Most of them missed, breaking harmlessly on the stairs around me, but that only made the next volley more reckless.

By the time the last one broke, the entire staircase looked like a war zone. Jagged shards coated the steps like a minefield.

I had been so focused on dodging that I didn't notice until my foot landed wrong, slipped, and I crashed face-first into the floor.

Agony ripped through me.

Glass tore into my skin like razors, slicing across my arms, my chest, my hands. Blood poured freely, painting a crimson trail across the dirty concrete.

Off to the side, the butler leaned toward Jillian, her voice low but nervous. "Miss Schulz, Sir Christian already has anemia. If this keeps up, he might bleed out…"

Jillian gave a small smile, her tone light and almost chipper. "I know. That's why I told the maid to make him some iron-rich soup."

Then she added, casually flipping her hair out of her face, "This is all just to teach Christian a lesson. So he stops bullying Austin."

She gave me another once-over, her expression flat.

"Besides, didn't you see? He keeps heading for the rooftop. It's dangerous up there. If he falls, that's on him. Maybe once he sees the stairs are covered in broken glass, he'll come to his senses."

But what she didn't see coming was that even with my body shredded, bleeding, and half broken, I still managed to get back up.

Trembling, I pushed myself up from the ground.

One foot in front of the other, I kept climbing. Every step drove glass deeper into the soles of my feet. My shoes were soaked with blood by the time I reached the third stair.

Behind me, the crowd quieted, and even Jillian's smirk faltered as she looked uneasy, maybe realizing this wasn't going as she thought.

But before guilt could settle, Austin leaned into her side, his voice soft and whiny like a lovesick teen.

"Jill, can't you tell? Christian is doing this just to get under your skin. He knows damn well there's no exit that way. He's just too proud to admit he's wrong."

Then he paused, let the silence do the talking.

"All those guys who marry into wealthy families? They know how to behave. They'd crawl through fire just to please their wives. But Christian? He keeps fighting back. Always challenging you."

Austin lowered his voice to ensure she caught the next line. "Sometimes I wonder... does he even love you? If he doesn't, then why'd he marry into the Schulz family to begin with?"

And that was all it took.

Jillian's face darkened like a storm cloud rolling in.

"So that's it," she snapped. "All that sweet-talking, all that playing the loyal husband—it was all just a damn act? You're just like every other gold-digging pretty boy. You played me into marrying you. All for the money!"

Her voice dropped colder, eyes narrowing like a blade.

"You wanna keep playing tough? Keep pushing your luck? Fine. Let's break your legs and see how far that attitude takes you."

Two of the wealthy kids stepped forward, baseball bats already in their hands and matching grins across their smug faces.

I barely had time to brace.

One of the bats came down hard on my knee, and I heard the crunch before I felt it.

I dropped, my whole body buckling under the pain. My knees hit the glass, and more shards tore into me like they were hungry for blood.

I never thought it'd come to this.

I never thought the woman I once loved would stand there and watch while I was beaten like an animal.

Following her car crash, she completely lost her memory of her identity. I discovered her, almost unresponsive, by the roadside. I dedicated every penny I had to healing her. Six months of my life vanished in the process.

I cleaned her wounds, fed her, kept her warm, and helped her recover her ability to walk. I gave her everything.

She once looked me dead in the eyes and told me she'd make me the happiest man alive.

To buy me a watch for my birthday, she took on three delivery jobs. She delivered food all night just to make it happen. She handed me that watch with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"Christian," she said, "one day, I'll give you the best the world has to offer."

But everything changed the second she regained her memory, rejoined the Schulz family, and had a private talk with Austin.

After that, everything changed.

She constantly looked at me with suspicion, doubting everything I said, while trusting Austin completely.

And to protect the man who murdered our daughter, she had my eyes sewn shut, dumped me in this hellhole, and let these people humiliate and torture me.

I should have seen it coming. We may have been a mistake from the start.

Still bleeding, trembling, I reached for the black diamond earring I'd kept hidden. My fingertips found it.

I took a breath and once again said calmly, "I want a new wife. Send the helicopter. You've got one hour."

Christian's POV

"You've got 20 minutes left."

By the time I dragged my busted legs to the rooftop, Jillian stormed up after me like a woman unhinged. She stomped over, grabbed my earlobe, and yanked the black diamond earring straight out.

"Christian, who the hell were you talking to just now?" Her eyes burned with suspicion.

The rest of the spoiled rich crowd came spilling in behind her, ready to fan the flames.

"I saw it too," one of them said, pointing right at me. "Guy's head was gushing blood, and the first thing he did was grab that earring and start whispering like a lunatic. Gotta admit… it was creepy."

"Right?" someone else jumped in. "At first, I thought it was something sentimental—like, maybe Jillian gave it to him or something, and he was being all tragic with it. But I guess not?"

Austin stepped in and took the earring, examining it between his fingers.

"Jill, I studied jewelry design, remember? This is a rare, top-tier black diamond. If you didn't give it to him, there's no way Christian could've afforded something like this on his own. And yet… he clings to it like it's his last breath."

Then he paused, made a little show of pretending to hold back a gasp.

"Wait… Christian, don't tell me this was from a secret lover? Is that what this is about? That's why you've been trying to get up here, right? So you can throw yourself off the roof like Romeo in some tearjerker farewell to your dead girlfriend?"

He blinked, all innocent.

"No wonder Bella didn't really look like you, Jill. Don't tell me…you were just a stand-in. Like a surrogate or something—"

Before he could finish, Jillian's face went ghost-white. Then it flushed dark with rage.

She threw the earring to the ground and shrieked, "Christian! You cheated on me?! Answer me! Was Bella even my daughter?!"

"Honestly, I wish she weren't," I said, my voice flat. "Because you never deserved to be her mother."

With a grimace, I uttered, "Jillian, I want a divorce!"

She laughed coldly.

"So it's true. You really were hung up on that tramp. She's dead, and all this time you've been mourning her behind my back? That's why you kept that worthless little thing she left behind?"

Then, Jillian snapped her fingers.

"Fine. You like crying? Let's help you out. Somebody bring up thirty canisters of tear gas. Let's make sure he cries until there's nothing left."

I stared at her, stunned for a second. I didn't think she could get more twisted.

The butler stepped forward, clearly rattled. "Miss Schulz, even one canister is enough to take down a trained soldier. With Sir Christian's condition, his body can't handle that. Thirty will cause total respiratory collapse. He might not make it."

Jillian didn't even look up. She calmly pulled a mink coat around Austin's shoulders, helping him slip on a protective mask, just as she would tuck a child in for bed.

"Relax," she said with a soft smile. "They're prank-grade. The worst thing that can happen is that he sneezes and tears up a little. He'll be fine."

She adjusted Austin's collar and continued, "Christian made Austin cry. I'm just restoring the balance. He needs to learn what being a decent brother-in-law means."

Seconds later, I heard the faint hiss of gas canisters popping open one by one.

Then the smoke started to curl in, soft at first, like fog on a cold morning. But it hit fast.

It shot up my nose, burned its way down my throat, and clawed into my lungs like fire. But it didn't just sting.

It felt like my entire body was turning inside out.

My chest and stomach burned from within, not from any external source. It felt as if something inside me was tearing apart, piece by piece.

I dropped to the ground, writhing in agony.

That was when I realized.

This wasn't tear gas. It was poison gas.

Every spot the smoke touched, my wounds began to bubble and blister, the flesh turning black and rancid. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt. My skin wasn't just burning, it was dying.

The butler stumbled back, roaring, "The color's wrong! Miss Schulz, this isn't tear gas! I've seen this before while serving in the military. This is military-grade chemical warfare! It shuts down organs from the inside out. If we don't get him out now, he's dead!"

But Jillian just kept fixing Austin's coat, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve like it was a damn photoshoot.

Her voice stayed cool. "It's just a little smoke. Don't overreact. You're going to scare Austin."

"Besides," she said lightly, "the doctors say crying helps with detox. It's healthy."

She turned to wave him off, but then she froze when she finally saw it.

The smoke was not white.

It was a sickly, glowing yellow-green hue, and every cell in the body recognized what that meant, even if one had never seen it before.

It means death.

Christian's POV

I lay in the middle of that toxic haze, my body convulsing so violently it felt like my spine might snap. My skin had turned a sickly, purplish-black, and every wound on me had begun to fester like rot. Thick, dark blood seeped from the corners of my mouth, slow and steady.

Jillian's face turned ghost-white, and genuine panic overtook her. She pushed Austin aside and started yelling at the crowd around her.

"I told you to bring prank-grade tear gas! The harmless kind! What the hell happened? How the hell did this turn into poison gas?!"

Frantic, Jillian shouted, "Shut it off! All of it, now! If anything happens to Christian, I swear, none of you are walking out of here alive!"

Even the wealthy kids, who had been laughing just seconds earlier, suddenly appeared less enthusiastic about participating. Their faces lost color, making it clear that this wasn't the joke they had expected to be part of.

Thankfully, the butler, who'd clearly seen combat, immediately took charge, shouting orders and tossing masks and gloves like a drill sergeant.

"We need to shut down the canisters and neutralize the gas residue immediately," he said. "Then we clean his wounds, get the poison off him, and rush him to the hospital."

Jillian nodded, shaking, and finally stepped toward me.

But Austin arrived first. He crouched beside me with that fake concern on his face.

"Careful, Christian," he said. "We're on the rooftop, you know? Wouldn't want you to lose your balance and fall."

Then he leaned in closer, just far enough that no one else could hear.

"You filthy rat," Austin hissed. "Go to hell."

And the next second, he shoved me hard in the back.

In an instant, I was over the rooftop ledge, the wind roaring in my ears, feeling weightless.

Instinct kicked in. Mid-fall, I twisted and caught the ledge with both hands, hanging off the twenty-eighth floor with legs swinging, blood dripping, wind trying to pull me away.

A scream ripped through the air.

"Christian!"

Jillian's voice.

She rushed to the edge, let out a shaky breath, then turned and faced Austin. "What the hell was that?! You almost killed him!"

Austin blinked fast, his eyes watering.

"I-I was just trying to help," he said, his voice shaking. "He was stumbling, and I thought he was gonna fall. I reached out, but he pushed me away…"

He didn't even try hard to sound convincing, just innocent enough to make her hesitate.

Jillian squinted at him, suspicious, but said nothing more. She dropped to her knees and grabbed my wrist, trying to keep me steady.

"Christian, don't panic. I've got you. We'll get you to a hospital, I swear."

But just as she started to pull, a cold, commanding voice cut through the rooftop noise.

"Don't pull him up."

Jillian froze. Her head snapped around.

"Dad? You're back in the country?"

Victor Schulz had returned, the big man himself, the one who ruled the Schulz family like a corporation, a kingdom, and a cult all at once.

Austin immediately scrambled over and clung to his arm like a scared little boy.

"Dad…"

Victor appeared unchanged, wearing a sharp suit, polished shoes, and a judgmental glare.

As usual, Austin was his favorite. Since Austin's mother passed away, Victor had been treating him like delicate porcelain.

Victor gave Austin a few comforting pats before turning that cold stare on Jillian.

"I've heard everything," he said, like he'd been gathering the facts for hours. "Since the day this nobody married into our family, he's done nothing but make life hell for Austin. Accusing him of murder? Really?"

Victor approached the ledge, eyeing me like a pest he wanted to crush.

"You're his sister, Jillian. And this is how you let your own brother suffer?"

Then he turned directly to me and curled his lip into a sneer.

"A worthless punk with no name, no background, no power—thinking he could bully my son? Christian, unless you apologize, admit everything, and get on your knees to kowtow a hundred times to Austin, don't even dream of being saved."

Jillian flinched. Her grip on my wrist wavered.

"But Dad… he was poisoned. He needs—"

"Needs what?" Victor cut in, voice sharp. "You think you can't be replaced? You think I haven't prepared other options? You're not my only child, Jillian. Don't forget that."

That landed like a punch.

Jillian's jaw clenched. We both knew he had other kids. Bastards spread across the country, maybe more than a few of them already groomed for power.

And Victor? He never cared about emotional ties.

Then Austin, right on cue, wiped at his eyes and whispered just loud enough for Jillian to hear.

"Jill, it's not like I don't want you to save him. But what if we let him off easy, and he turns around and hurts me again? Didn't you promise you'd always protect me?"

That sealed it.

Jillian's grip loosened, and she let go of my hand.

"Christian…you heard them. It's just an apology, so get down, say you were wrong, and it's over. Don't make this harder than it has to be," she said, her voice hoarse.

"If you admit to Austin that you were wrong, I'll pull you up and I'll believe you didn't cheat. I'll believe Bella was really mine. I'll forgive everything. We'll move forward together. We'll have more kids. Okay?"