The huge living room was silent under the massive crystal chandelier. Oscar kneeled perfectly still in the center of the hall.

His back had been slashed by Dominic earlier, and the blood slowly spread over his white suit.

Myra stood beside him, biting her lip so hard that it almost drew blood as she stared at his wound.

George and Theo were nearby, uneasy.

"Ms. Shirley, we're your bodyguards, too. It's our fault you got hurt. You can't just punish Oscar," George said.

"Yeah. We should be punished too," Theo added.

Shirley sat on the sofa as the family doctor disinfected her wound.

The cut had gone deep into her flesh. As the doctor cleaned it, waves of sharp pain shot through her body.

But the pain wasn't nearly as bad as what she felt in her heart.

She lifted her eyes casually toward the man kneeling before her.

Her voice was calm, almost indifferent. "When this happened, you two weren't around. So no punishment for you. But Oscar was here. He's the reason I got hurt, so I'm punishing him. Don't you think that's fair?"

Shirley rarely got this angry.

George and Theo exchanged glances, then continued to plead on his behalf.

"But he's your future husband! Don't you feel bad about punishing him while he's hurt?"

"Yeah, you have feelings for him. How could you punish him?"

Before Shirley could answer, Oscar, kneeling straight as a board, spoke, "If I could, Ms. Shirley, I'd rather not be the one you choose."

"Fine." Shirley stood, ordering someone to bring her the whip.

It was the same one Daniel had had made for her when the four bodyguards first joined the Bishops.

Fifteen years had passed, and she had never once used it.

"Since you're willing to take the punishment, I won't hold back," she said.

The moment the words left her mouth, the whip lashed down hard onto his back.

The sickening crack split the skin and flesh, and blood gushed out of his previous wound.

Myra screamed, "Oscar!"

But he didn't flinch or make a sound.

Shirley pressed her lips together, and her hand that was holding the whip shook.

The thought of how he had ruined her happiness in the last life made her tremble with anger.

As she lifted her injured arm to strike a second time, Myra suddenly lunged forward, taking the lash herself.

"Ah!" She screamed in pain, and Oscar, panicked, scooped her into his arms.

He glared at Shirley, his eyes sharp. "I won't let you touch her!"

"She threw herself in front of me. Why are you blaming me?" Shirley asked, raising the whip. "Who's gonna take the third strike—her or you?"

"Shirley, don't…"

Myra fainted from the pain, and Oscar's heart thumped as he held her tightly. "Myra, wake up! I'll get you help!"

He ran upstairs with her before shouting at the family doctor, who was standing frozen in the living room, "Get up here right now! If anything happens to Myra, you'll pay for it!"

The doctor glanced at Shirley and dared not breathe. Without her command, he didn't dare to do as Oscar said.

"Go," Shirley spat before tossing the whip on the floor.

Looking at the blood splattered across the floor and her arm's split wound, she said, "I don't want anyone dying in our house. Oh, and get me the thousand-year-old Devilroot that Dad gave me."

Theo asked quickly, "Are you giving it to Oscar to help him recover? If you're nice to him, I'm sure he'll admit his mistake."

"No," Shirley said firmly. "Give it to Jamie."

"Jamie?" The two exchanged a surprised glance. "I thought you hated him."

Shirley raised an eyebrow. "Who said I hated him?"

Early the next morning, Shirley ordered the servants to gather up everything related to Oscar and throw them away.

His worn clothes, used pens, school bag, and even the birthday gifts he'd given her—all of them went straight into the trash.

The servants looked confused. "Ms. Shirley, these were your most treasured things. Are you sure you don't want them anymore?"

Shirley pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes. Throw them out."

She was just about to change and find Jamie when a servant shouted, "Ms. Shirley! Ms. Myra is at the door, begging to see you!"

Shirley frowned, her face darkening instantly.

"Shirley, I'm sorry about last night. Please don't be mad or blame Oscar, okay? I'm apologizing on his behalf!"

Shirley's eyes narrowed as she saw Myra trembling and crying at the door.

"Can you cut it out? All this pitiful act of yours is getting old."

Shirley stepped past her and was about to leave when Myra grabbed her ankle.

"No! I'm not leaving unless you forgive Oscar."

"What exactly do you want?" Shirley snapped. "Don't forget, everything you have today comes from me. Without me, you're nothing, let alone the Bishops' heiress."

"Hah." Myra's voice turned cold and mocking. "You think I care about status? Everyone treats me like your servant anyway. I'm here to beg you not to marry Oscar. He loves me and wants to marry me! I've been your shadow for years—it shouldn't be hard for you to grant me this one thing, right?"

Finally, she showed her true colors.

In the last life, Shirley hadn't realized Myra's deceit until it was too late.

Looking back, it was obvious. Myra had never been a kind person. All those years, she had acted helpless, and Shirley thought it was just shyness. But it was all fake—she'd been pretending to be the victim to capture Oscar's heart.

Too bad Oscar couldn't see it. He'd ignored the real Bishops heiress and went after a powerless foster daughter instead.

"What if I say I don't want to?" Shirley raised an eyebrow. "You're just a foster daughter. You have no right to demand anything! If you want to stay in my house, you'd better behave. Otherwise, forget about marrying into any of the four elite families!"

Hearing that, Myra gripped Shirley's ankle even tighter, her eyes gleaming with menace.

"Since you're so stubborn, I'll make you regret it!"

She dug her fingernails deep into Shirley's ankle, causing sharp pain to shoot up her leg.

"Let go!" Shirley was about to kick Myra before the latter rolled straight toward the stairs on her own.

"Ah! No, stop! It hurts!" Myra cried before tumbling down the stairs while Shirley watched, frozen in shock.

Right then, Oscar burst through the door. "Myra! Are you okay?"

He scooped her up and glared at Shirley, who was standing at the top of the stairs. "When will you stop? If you touch her again, I swear I will never marry you!"

Shirley's face stayed cold as she explained, "I didn't do anything. She fell down herself!"

"You're lying! I saw you kick her down the stairs with my own eyes!"

"Oscar, it's not Shirley's fault. It doesn't hurt!" Myra whimpered in his arms.

Oscar checked her over. "You've fractured a bone. Don't worry. I'll take you to the hospital."

On the way out, he noticed the bags the servants were carrying downstairs, all containing his belongings.

Looking at the stuff, he snorted. "We're not even married yet, and you're already moving my stuff to our new place? Nobody knows if we'll even get married!"

The servants stammered, "M-Mr. Miller, Ms. Shirley asked us to throw—"

"Enough. I don't have time for this nonsense."

Oscar left with Myra in his arms, not noticing the small, sly smile flicker across her lips.

But Shirley saw it.

She glanced down at her ankle to see ten fingernail marks pressed into her skin, raw and aching.

Oscar couldn't see it.

The servant asked hesitantly, "Ms. Shirley, what are we gonna do about these—"

"Throw them away," she spat.

She blinked through the sting in her eyes, counting down the days until the wedding.

She wanted to see Oscar's reaction when he found out he wasn't the person she was about to marry.

Oscar stayed at the hospital with Myra for three days, and during that whole time, Shirley didn't see him at all.

It wasn't until the fourth day, while she was discussing the wedding details with Daniel, that Oscar suddenly barged in.

"Mr. Bishop, Ms. Shirley, I have something to say."

Shirley didn't even look up. "We're eating. Say it after dinner."

"No. It can't wait." Oscar's face was cold. "Ms. Shirley, I don't love you. I won't marry you in seven days."

Daniel froze. "Oscar, Shirley actually—"

Shirley cut him off, raising an eyebrow at Oscar. "I don't care whether you love me or not. All I care about is that you show up on time in seven days."

Oscar straightened his back. "I won't show up. I told you: I'm not marrying you."

"Fine." Shirley let out a bitter laugh. "Since you love Myra so much, I'll have Dad marry her to someone else! Seven days from now, she'll have a wedding at the same time as mine. I want you to watch her marry another man!"

Oscar panicked, his face darkening. "Why are you doing this? Why must you force things? Just because your family is powerful doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!"

"Well, you can leave!" Shirley bit her lip while staring at him fiercely. "You can run away with her and live however you want, but I can't guarantee how long the Millers will survive in Anteford."

As Oscar was faced with her dominance, a sharp glint of hatred flashed in his eyes.

If looks could kill, he would have ended her countless times already.

"Fine." He ground his teeth and nodded. "I'll marry you."

After Oscar left, Daniel looked confused. "Why did you provoke Oscar? You're supposed to marry Jamie anyway."

"He owes me that much."

As Shirley thought of her last life, her heart throbbed with old pain.

He had ruined her life. Now, she was only going to make him suffer for seven days.

After a long moment, her anger slowly faded. "Dad, let them be. Seven days from now, I'll marry Jamie, and Myra will marry Oscar. Since he loves her so much, I'll let him have her."

Outside, the rain began to fall, and the leaves rustled in the wind. Thunder roared as lightning struck again and again.

Having lost her appetite, Shirley left the dining room, only to see Oscar and Myra in the courtyard, holding each other tightly.

Myra was crying so hard that she could barely breathe, her face streaked with tears that mixed with the rain.

"Why? Why is Shirley doing this to me? The only thing I did was love you! Is that wrong? Why is my life so miserable? Why am I just an orphan, a shadow of Shirley? Oscar, I don't wanna marry anyone else!"

Oscar wiped her tears over and over while holding her close with a pained expression.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything about this. She threatened my family's livelihood to force me to marry her. But I promise you, I'll never touch her! Myra, you're the one I love!"

The two kissed passionately in the pouring rain. It was a romantic scene that would touch anyone watching.

Shirley, however, found it utterly pathetic.

"Myra, do you know why I love you and not Ms. Shirley? When I was ten years old, during guard training, I fainted from low blood sugar. But you—you carried me back to the Bishops' in the rain, stumbling as you walked, telling me to hang on. From that day, I swore I would protect you forever."

Hearing that, Myra froze while staring at him.

Shirley finally understood why Oscar had 'loved' Myra so much all these years.

It turned out that he had mistaken Myra for the girl from back then. But that girl was Shirley.

A bitter laugh escaped Shirley's lips. She pressed them together and said, with a hint of mockery, "What an idiot."