The moment she called me a cripple, I couldn't take it anymore.

I could ignore her flaunting Nate's love and pretend it didn't matter. But the second she mentioned my leg, it felt like someone had reached inside me and torn my heart apart.

I shouted, "Lucy, what right do you have to call me that? If it weren't for you, I never would've lost my chance to dance! And don't you dare bring up my mother!"

Just as Lucy was about to hurl something else at me, a voice came from outside the room.

It was Nate.

Apparently, he hadn't been able to find Lucy anywhere else, so he came to my ward.

The moment she heard his voice, Lucy collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face like a well-rehearsed performance.

"Nate! Help me!"

Nate burst into the room the second he heard her cry for help.

When he saw her lying on the ground, her cheeks wet with tears, he immediately called for a doctor.

"Thank god you came," she whimpered, clinging to her stomach. "I didn't know what I was going to do..."

She looked at him with pitiful eyes, her voice trembling.

"I really don't know what I did to upset Ruby so much... She pushed me so hard. If I hadn't shielded my stomach in time, who knows what would've happened..."

Nate's eyes flared with rage. Nothing angered him more than seeing Lucy hurt.

"Ruby, why would you hurt her?" he snapped. "She's such a kind, gentle girl."

It was like he wanted to kill me. His hands closed around my neck, squeezing with a force that made breathing impossible. I struggled against him, but his strength far outweighed mine.

In desperation, I yanked out the IV needle from my wrist and stabbed it into his hand.

He cried out and let go.

I collapsed back, coughing violently, gasping for air. And in that moment—gasping and trembling—I understood something with painful clarity.

No one was going to save me. There was no point in waiting for someone else to fix my life. If I wanted to survive, I had to save myself.

After Nate left with Lucy, I picked up the phone and called a private investigator.

All these years with Nate—I'd managed to save a fair amount of money. Enough to pay for the truth.

Today was my mother's death anniversary. And I had decided—I would uncover everything that happened back then.

She deserved that much from me.

Then, I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and dialed my old mentor's number.

"Sir," I said. "I want to come back. I want to continue my training."

There was a pause on the other end, then a soft intake of breath.

"You're sure? If you return, you'll have to erase all traces of yourself from this world. From now on, there will be no more Ruby Randy."

"I'm sure," I said.

"Alright then," he replied. "I'll be waiting."

Afterward, I headed to the orthopedic department.

All these years, it had always been Nate's private doctor treating me. Back then, when I was first diagnosed with a lifelong disability, not once did I question whether Nate had played a part in it.

But thinking back now—every time I started to feel something in my leg, even the slightest sensation, he would immediately act overjoyed and call for the private doctor.

Now I realize—each time he did that, the doctor would somehow make things worse.

After a thorough check-up, the doctor looked at me with a strange expression and said, "Your legs are indeed disabled, but something doesn't add up. From what I can see, it looks like someone has been administering medication to keep them this way."

He paused, then continued, "But it's been so many years. Your leg muscles have long since atrophied. Still, if you're willing to endure the pain and commit to training, there's a small chance you might be able to stand again."

The possibility alone made my heart swell with gratitude. I thanked him over and over.

No matter how much hardship lay ahead, I was going to keep moving forward—to become a better version of myself.

After I got home, I packed my bags and took my mother's keepsake with me before leaving.

At the airport, I called my mentor.

"I've already arranged for someone to erase your identity once you arrive," he said. "You don't need to worry about the rest."

I thanked him, but he seemed to hesitate, as if there was more he wanted to say.

"How do you plan to explain this to Nate?"

My voice was calm. "There's nothing left between us. Whatever was there... it's over. From now on, we have no connection."

"Alright then."

After we hung up, I turned off my phone and boarded the plane.

Looking out at the city where I'd spent over twenty years of my life, I felt nothing. No attachment. No nostalgia.

Clutching the bracelet my mother left behind, I drifted off to sleep.

Back at the hospital, Nate suddenly remembered—today was the anniversary of my mother's death. A flicker of unease crossed his mind.

Just then, his secretary called in panic.

"Mr. Davidson, something's wrong—Madam packed her bags and left."