The year of purest hatred.

My wife, Rory McGrath, had a lover, Jesse O'Connell, who dared to provoke me. In a moment of fury, I castrated him with a single strike, robbing him of the ability to father children. In return, Rory retaliated in the same way, leaving me unable to have children as well.

I couldn’t let her win. So, I severed her pinky, a small yet deliberate act of retribution.

For a while, I thought we were bound to torment each other until death. But then, she pushed me to the edge, both literally and figuratively, when she tossed a divorce agreement in front of me, her eyes as cold as ice.

"I'm undergoing IVF, Cyrus," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "Jesse has given up everything for me. I owe him a home."

Her words cut deep, sharp, and calculated.

"Now," Rory said, "you have two choices. One, we jump together, letting fate decide our lives. Two, sign the divorce agreement, and we never see each other again until the day we die."

——

"Cyrus, you're smart. You know which choice to make," Rory said while tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.

The sound was rhythmic, relentless, like a countdown waiting for my answer.

Just like before.

When I had made Jesse lose his ability to father a child, she had stabbed me violently. I had lain in a pool of blood, barely holding on. She had stood above me, looming, counting the seconds with a measured patience.

"Ten."

"Nine."

"Eight…"

By the time she reached one, she hadn't rushed at all. Only then did she instruct her bodyguards to take me to the hospital.

She hadn't forgotten to remind them: "Save his life. As for the broken pieces, there's no need to keep them."

She said I had taken Jesse's pride, and it was only fair that I'd become like him, unable to be a father.

I woke up in the hospital after surgery. Jesse, wearing a patient gown, came to see me, smug as hell.

He straightened his back, looking down on me with all the arrogance he could muster.

"See, Cyrus? I told you. Rory only loves me. You hurt me, and she would never forgive you."

I smiled calmly, and then I pushed myself up.

The vase on the bedside table didn't survive my throw. It smashed against Jesse's chest.

He panicked and then screamed.

In reflex, I leapt from the bed, grabbing his hair and smashing his head against the wall.

"Jesse! Who gave you the courage to provoke me?" I hissed, my voice low and lethal.

Rory ruined me.

And they thought I'd let them live in peace after that?

No, I would haunt them.

I would cling to them like a shadow, never dying and never letting go.

"Ahhh, Cyrus! You madman! Let go of me! Or I swear, Rory will kill you!"

Jesse's forehead was a mess of blood and flesh. His eyes were red-rimmed, barely able to open.

If Rory hadn't arrived in time, he wouldn't have lasted a second longer.

Right then, I remembered the look on his face when she had dragged him away that day, crying, furious, and full of grievance.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Then, Rory's icy and piercing gaze cut into me.

She sneered, her tone low and threatening. "Cyrus, your time is running out. You'd better make your decision quickly."

When my parents were alive, no one dared threaten me.

People knew that I was a complete madman.

After my parents died, even fewer dared cross me.

"Rory," I said, voice low, deliberate, almost playful, "have I ever told you never to be too naive?"

Outside, the drizzle began, timed perfectly. Raindrops hit the car window, scattering into tiny ripples.

In parallel, Rory's brows knitted, suspicion and caution creeping in as she looked at me.

"What do you mean by that?"

I rolled the window down, letting the rain spill into the car.

A twisted smirk curled at the corner of my mouth, just enough to make her blood run cold.

"Rory," I said, my voice low and deliberate, letting my gaze wander outside, "I'll give you two choices."

I paused, watching her squirm.

"Either you die..." I let the silence hang in the air, thick with menace, before adding, "...or him."

Not far beyond the car window, Jesse dangled, tied up, suspended from a crane.

Jesse stood before a sheer cliff, the wind whistling past his ears as he gazed down into the dark abyss.

His face drained of color, his body trembling violently as terror consumed him.

Tears streaked down his face as Jesse screamed, "Rory, save me!"

Rory froze, her eyes locked onto the scene. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world might implode, the pressure building in her head until she thought she might shatter.

Then, in a blur of panic, she unbuckled her seatbelt and lunged at me, her hands grabbing my neck with an iron grip.

"Cyrus, have you lost your mind?" Rory shouted, voice thick with fury. "Let him down, right now!"

The icy calm that typically resided in her eyes had vanished, replaced by an anger impossible to ignore. The pressure of her grip only grew stronger.

This was the third time I'd seen her lose control.

The first was when I watched my parents die in a car accident, consumed by flames before my eyes.

I had run toward them in blind panic, and Rory had yanked me back with all her strength, shouting frantically, "Cyrus, calm down! If you run forward now, it's a death trap. If anything happens to you, what am I supposed to do?"

She had held me tight, terrified I'd throw myself into the fire.

Over and over, she whispered in my ear, "Cyrus, we will have a new home. You, me… and our baby."

The second time was when I destroyed Jesse, the one who had dared to provoke me.

She had cradled his bleeding body in her arms, shouting at me with raw, wild fury, "Cyrus, you're a damn lunatic! If anything happens to Jesse, I will never forgive you!"

And the third time… was today.

Only the second time she had lost control over another man.

Clear as day, she truly loved him.

"Cyrus! Don't you dare play dumb! Tell your people to put him down!"

Her eyes were bloodshot, and beneath her rage was pure, explosive fury.

Her grip crushed my breath, yet I felt no fear.

Far from it, actually.

I just laughed maniacally.

"You haven't made your choice yet," I said through clenched teeth. "How could I possibly let him go?"

She faltered, fingers trembling slightly around my neck.

Rory knew I meant it.

Jesse's life rested entirely on her decision.

"You're insane… a complete lunatic!" she shouted.

Her words hung in the air, but she could not decide.

Slowly, she released her grip, swinging the car door open, intent on running to save him.

And that's when I noticed her left hand, the one missing its pinky.

A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my throat.

"Rory…" I murmured.

"What are you trying to—" she shouted back.

But before she could finish, a heart-wrenching, guttural sob tore from her throat. Her face contorted in agony, and I couldn't stop a small, cruel laugh from slipping past my lips.

My hands, though, moved deliberately.

The knife I'd inserted into her uterus stayed steady in my grip.

"Rory," I said coldly, "you took away my right to be a father. How can you expect to have your own child?"

Ever since the day I'd severed her pinky, I had intended to do this.

Only she had anticipated me and dodged it.

Sweat poured down her face. Color drained completely.

Her reddened eyes locked on me, trying to endure the pain.

Through gritted teeth, she said, "Is this what you wanted? If it is, then you can let Jesse go, right?"

Her words froze me for a moment.

My gaze flicked involuntarily to her bleeding womb. I expected her to think of herself first, to demand I take her to a hospital.

But no, I was wrong.

The first thing she thought of was still that son-of-a-bitch.

"Ahhh! Rory, help! Help me!"

Jesse's terrified screams echoed from outside the car.

Rory didn't spare me a glance.

She gritted her teeth, and with a groan, she swung open the car door. Toward Jesse at the cliff's edge, she ran, stumbling forward with veins bulging, her heart pounding in her chest.

It had happened before when I was sixteen.

My father's business rivals had kidnapped me.

Rory had charged into their hideout alone, cutting through commotion and blood with the fury of someone who had already lost everything. She was beaten and battered with three broken ribs and a comminuted fracture in her right leg.

But despite it all, she carried me out of that abandoned warehouse like it was nothing, her strength nearly inhuman.

She had made me keep my eyes closed the whole time, afraid I'd panic, whispering reassurances into my ear as she carried me.

"Cyrus, don't be afraid. I'll bring you home safely. As long as I'm here, nothing will happen to you."

Now, those same words, once reserved only for me, were being whispered to another man.

"Jesse, don't be afraid. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll get you home safe."

Rory's team arrived quickly, but they didn't have time to deal with me.

They rushed straight to Jesse, whisking him off to the hospital for treatment.

I stayed put in the car, eyes cold, watching them leave.

Then, my phone buzzed.

A message lit up the screen:

[Sir, are you really letting them off just like that?]

I replied without hesitation:

[Of course not. Did you prepare what I asked for?]

He replied quickly:

[Yes, it's ready.]

A slow, dark smile spread across my face. Satisfaction glimmered in my eyes as I read it.

'Rory… enjoy the hell I'm about to bring you,' I said inwardly.

Right then, I put the phone away and drove her car back home.

...

In the following days, Rory underwent treatment at the hospital, while I cleaned up all unnecessary remnants at home.

It was during that time that the maid approached, holding something rough and worn in her hands, hesitating before she asked,

"Sir, do you still need this rag?"

The 'rag' in question was the scarf Jesse had painstakingly knitted for Rory.

When he had given it to her, she had returned home, a soft smile tugging at her lips, carefully placing it in her study drawer as if it were a treasure.

"Burn it," I said, my gaze drifting to the wedding photos that still hung in the living room.

"Burn all of it."

The housekeeper hesitated, confusion flickering across her face, but she knew her boundaries. She nodded and carefully removed every framed wedding photo from the shelves.

At that moment, my phone buzzed again.

[Sir, Rory will be discharged tomorrow.]

Perfect.

The show was about to begin.

...

The next day, Rory was wheeled back into the house by Jesse.

"Rory, you really can't keep indulging Cyrus," Jesse said, his voice tight with worry. "If he dares to hurt you now, he won't hesitate to kill you later. Keeping a lunatic like him around makes me afraid to sleep. I'm scared I'll just end up dead one day."

Rory gently patted his hand.

"Don't worry. Once we get divorced, it'll be fine. From then on, it'll be just the two of us… We'll live peacefully," she replied, her voice soothing.

Before she could finish, a sudden clamor of voices erupted in the living room.

"Ms. McGrath is back!"

"Ms. McGrath, come see the child in my arms. We've calculated his luck based on his birth date. Everyone says he's blessed. If you accept him as your godson, it would be perfect."

"Ms. McGrath, look at my daughter. She's obedient and sweet, our little darling. If you accept her as your goddaughter, she will also become your little darling in the future."

A few meticulously dressed people pushed and jostled, bringing their children toward Rory.

Surrounded unexpectedly, Rory and Jesse froze.

Jesse reacted first.

Panic rose in his voice as he shouted at the crowd, "What the hell are you doing? When did Rory say she wanted godchildren? If she wants children, I have plenty of ways to give them to her…"