After hanging up the call, Charlotte saw Eric leaning against the doorframe in a bathrobe, his expression unreadable but heavy with discontent.

"So, you want a divorce?" His voice carried a quiet menace. "Who's the man you've been eyeing?"

He moved closer, his large hand gripping her chin. The sudden force made her flinch, and she instinctively tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold, trapping her in an unrelenting embrace.

"But then again, I doubt you'd dare," he said, his voice a low drawl. "You weren't even afraid to die just to stay by my side. So, Charlotte, tell me—why do you like me?"

This time, it was Charlotte's turn to fall silent.

How could she possibly tell him the truth? That she didn't like him at all, that everything she did was for the sake of completing a mission?

She hesitated for a moment before typing four words on her phone: Love at first sight.

Eric chuckled. He didn't press further and turned away, leaving her alone.

The next morning, he was already gone when she woke up. She didn't bother to look for him. Instead, she pulled out her favorite journal and began drafting her plan for the final thirty days of her stay in this world.

The system's voice echoed in her mind.

[Host, as your task is nearing completion, your body will be programmed for a terminal illness to ensure a natural departure. Please prepare yourself for the pain.]

Charlotte closed the journal, her hands steady despite the words. She headed downstairs to have breakfast, only to bump into Brian storming in, his face flushed with anger.

"You've got some nerve, Charlotte! Hanging up on me last night? Tell me, what will it take for you to leave Eric?"

She raised her head, her gaze meeting the man who was, in this world, her biological brother. Bitterness swirled in her chest.

When she had first arrived in this world, she discovered her backstory—a misplaced heiress switched at birth. The girl who had taken her place, Emily, had lived the life of a beloved princess, basking in the unconditional affection of their family for years.

But her mission had demanded proximity to Eric, and it wasn't long before the Spencer family learned of her existence. A simple DNA test later, she was brought back into the family, though no one welcomed her except for her grandfather.

Not only was she forbidden from using the Spencer surname, but the family publicly announced her as an illegitimate child they had only recently acknowledged.

Emily, unable to accept the situation, had fled abroad in a fit of rage and hastily married.

Yet here she was again—back in the country for reasons unknown.

Charlotte didn't respond to Brian's question. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.

"If it weren't for you, do you think Emily would've married the wrong guy? Do you think she'd be back here, heartbroken?"

Weak and frail by nature, Charlotte lost her balance under his forceful shove. She stumbled, her body tumbling down the staircase until she lay sprawled on the landing, consciousness slipping away.

When she awoke, she was in a hospital room. Brian stood to one side, his expression defiant, while their parents sat nearby.

"Why should I kneel and apologize?" Brian's voice rose in protest. "It's not like I pushed her on purpose. She obviously did it to gain sympathy!"

"Enough!" Their father, Joe Spencer's voice cut through the room, sharp with irritation.

Their mom, Joyce Spencer opened her mouth as if to argue but ultimately swallowed her words, choosing instead to glare daggers at Charlotte.

"Brian is your brother, and you're not seriously hurt. Let's not make a fuss about this," Joe declared dismissively.

They all knew she couldn't speak, and as she frantically signed her protests with red-rimmed eyes, they acted as though they couldn't see her at all.

Charlotte glanced at her leg, now encased in a plaster cast. A dull ache spread through her chest, more emotional than physical.

In her previous life, she had been an orphan. She had always yearned for family. But the Spencer family had no place for her in their hearts. Especially Brian, who worshipped Emily and despised Charlotte for "taking everything" from her.

But who had taken from whom?

When the others left, Charlotte sat in silence, her thoughts adrift. Her time here was running out, and she needed to start letting go of everything in this world.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her reverie. Emily stepped inside.

Seven years had passed since they'd last seen each other. Emily's impulsive marriage had removed her from the Spencer family's plans, forcing them to push Charlotte into an arranged marriage with Eric to secure their alliance with the Lorvis family.

No one had cared about Charlotte's opinion. To them, a mute girl like her should have been grateful for such a "fortunate" match.

"Charlotte, what happened? I heard you fell down the stairs?" Emily's voice carried a saccharine concern as she sat heavily on Charlotte's injured leg.

Charlotte clenched her teeth, suppressing a cry of pain.

"Now that I'm divorced," Emily said, a smug smile curling her lips, "do you really think Eric would still look at you? Using my face to cozy up to him—don't you feel disgusted with yourself?" She tilted her head, her smile as radiant as sunshine piercing through a frozen landscape.

Charlotte clenched her teeth tightly, refusing to let a cry of pain escape her throat.

Emily suddenly slapped her own face.

"Charlotte, don't be angry. If you need to hit me to vent, go ahead. I'll even forgive you as long as you forgive Brian. He didn't mean it..." Emily's voice quivered, her eyes glistening with perfect tears that trailed down her cheeks, fragile and pitiable.

Before Charlotte could react, the door flew open with a loud crash. In strode Eric, his face a mask of icy fury. He scooped Emily into his arms, his gaze cold and piercing as it landed on Charlotte.

"You dared hit Emily?" His voice cut through the room like a whip. "Getting bold, are we, Charlotte? Apologize to Emily now—on your knees."

The realization of Emily's calculated ploy hit Charlotte like a wave. She reached for her phone, typing swiftly: I didn't hit her. It's not true.

Emily let out a delicate sob, burying her face into Eric's chest. "Eric, please don't be angry. I believe Charlotte didn't mean it. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have come back..." Her voice trailed off into heart-wrenching whimpers, further hardening Eric's already stone-cold expression.

Eric yanked Charlotte upright, ignoring her frailty. "You have until the count of three. Kneel, or you'll never set foot in the Lorvis family home again."

Pain shot through her body as she collapsed to the floor, every movement a fresh wave of agony. Yet she lowered her head and knelt, her pride crushed beneath the weight of his command.

Eric scoffed, his derision clear. "You should learn your place."

Emily sniffled, her tears now a steady flow. "Eric, I shouldn't have brought up the past. I only wanted to see Charlotte again. Maybe... I should've stayed abroad forever."

"Enough of that," Eric said, his voice softening as he tightened his hold on Emily. The scene was picture-perfect, a tableau of a man comforting his beloved.

Inside, Charlotte's mind churned. 'Only twenty-nine days left. Soon, this will all be over.'

The system broke its silence, its tone surprisingly gentle. [You don't have to endure this, Host. I can retrieve the security footage from the hospital.]

'No need,' she responded inwardly. 'Eric only believes what he sees, and what he sees isn't me. Just let it be. Twenty-nine days will be over soon.'

After three days of recovery, Charlotte was sent back to the Lorvis residence—not for her own comfort, but because Emily had a craving for her cooking.

As she maneuvered her wheelchair into the kitchen, she was greeted by Brian. "Still playing the good little housekeeper, huh? Don't you have any self-respect?"

Charlotte ignored him, steering her wheelchair away.

But Brian grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her backward. Her fragile body collapsed onto the floor, pain flaring in her still-healing leg.

"I'm your brother," Brian sneered. "Show some respect when you see me, you uncivilized brat." He laughed, his voice sharp and grating. "Do yourself a favor and leave while you still can. Or are you too shameless to realize everyone's laughing at you? A pathetic stray clinging to Eric like some desperate mutt."

Emily entered then, her delicate hands tugging lightly at Brian's sleeve. "Brian, don't be so harsh. Charlotte's just trying her best. After all, it's normal to have feelings for someone as wonderful as Eric."

Her tone was sweet, her words laced with feigned modesty. She glanced at Charlotte, her expression both kind and cruel.

"Oh, by the way, I'll be staying at the Lorvis residence for a while. Eric said it'd be more convenient this way since I haven't yet found a place to stay."

Charlotte nodded, gripping the arms of her wheelchair as she struggled back into the seat.

Eric arrived shortly after, his gaze lingering on Charlotte's impassive face. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken stirred within him.

"Emily will be staying here for some time," he announced. "She's particular about her meals, so you'll need to wake up at five every morning to prepare her breakfast."

"Eric, isn't that too much to ask of Charlotte? She's still recovering..." Emily's protest was gentle.

Eric dismissed it with a shake of his head. "Charlotte loves cooking. It's her honor to take care of you."

Charlotte smiled faintly and typed out a single line: It's no trouble at all.

Brian's smug grin surfaced as he shoved a bag of groceries into Charlotte's arms.

"What are you standing there for, mute? Get cooking already. Or should I tell Eric you've been slacking off again?"

Charlotte glanced at the groceries—mostly seafood and meat, with not a single vegetable in sight. She sighed quietly. She was allergic to seafood and disliked meat; clearly, this meal wouldn't be for her. Still, the thought of the remaining twenty-something days reignited a flicker of determination.

Barely half an hour had passed when Emily came rushing into the kitchen.

"Charlotte, why isn't the food ready yet? Don't tell me you don't want to cook for me?"

"She wouldn't dare," Brian barked, his voice laced with impatience. "Charlotte, hurry it up! Emily's hungry!"

With a resigned breath, Charlotte moved to reheat the broth and adjust the portions. But before she could, Emily suddenly snatched the pot of steaming soup from her hands. In a swift, calculated motion, she pretended to stumble, sending the boiling liquid splashing onto Charlotte's back and arms.

"Ah!" A guttural sound of pain tore from Charlotte's throat as she bit down hard, refusing to cry out. The scalding soup soaked through her clothes, leaving her shaking in agony, her body humiliated by the burns.

"Charlotte, are you okay?" Emily's voice trembled with feigned concern, though her crocodile tears betrayed her. She cradled her own hand, where a faint blister had begun to form. "I-I only wanted to help… Oh, this hurts so much!"

Brian arrived on cue. Supporting Emily, he muttered, "Emily, your delicate skin… This could scar! We need the doctor immediately."

Eric burst into the scene shortly after. Without sparing Charlotte so much as a glance, he scooped Emily into his arms and stormed off.

"Charlotte," his cold voice echoed behind him, "you can get yourself to the hospital. The family doctor's needed for Emily."

As the chaos subsided, Charlotte remained behind in the kitchen, her body trembling from pain and her lips curled into a bitter smile. The farce was over, leaving her alone to fend for herself.

She gestured for a servant to fetch her a set of thicker clothes to cover her injuries, but the staff paid her no heed. Instead, they fussed over Emily, offering her various ointments and pain relief remedies.

Left with no other choice, Charlotte gritted her teeth and pulled herself together. She retrieved some clothes on her own, carefully draping them over her blistered skin, and hailed a cab to the hospital.

By the time she arrived, her injuries had worsened. The doctor frowned deeply as she examined the burns. "Your clothes are fused with the skin. This will be painful to treat," the kind-faced doctor said. "You should have come in sooner. Do you live alone?"

Charlotte's throat tightened at the question. She shook her head silently, her fingers quickly typing out a message on her phone: Doctor, I'm mute. Please just write down the instructions for me. Thank you.

The doctor paused, a pang of sympathy flashing across her face. "Alright," she sighed. "Make sure you apply the ointment regularly, and avoid getting the burns wet…"

When Charlotte finally returned to the Lorvis household, the sky had already turned dark. Her body, swathed in bandages, appeared pitiable yet faintly comical. A junior maid, pitying her plight, helped maneuver her wheelchair up the stairs.

"The Madam really has it rough," the maid whispered to another as they passed. "She's covered in injuries, yet Mr. Lorvis is still doting on Miss Emily."

"You're too naive," the other retorted. "That woman has plenty of tricks up her sleeve. She's clung to Mr. Lorvis for years like a stray dog, even as a stand-in for Miss Emily."

"Serves her right, then," another chimed in. "Who told her to take over someone else's place? Everyone laughs at how shameless she is."

The whispers reached Charlotte's ears, but she didn't react. Instead, she typed out a request for the junior maid: Could you come to my room after nine to help with the ointment? I can't reach the burns.

The maid flushed, momentarily stunned, and nodded hurriedly.

When Charlotte entered the house, the dining room scene greeted her like a twisted tableau. Eric and Emily sat close, practically intertwined, feeding each other like starry-eyed lovers.

"Emily, try this," Eric murmured, his gaze dripping with tenderness. Emily giggled, her cheeks pink with joy.

Charlotte's expression remained calm, though a fleeting thought crossed her mind—if they seemed so perfectly suited now, why hadn't Emily married Eric in the first place?

The moment Emily spotted her, she leapt to her feet with exaggerated nervousness. "Charlotte, you're back!"

Charlotte nodded and moved to leave, but Eric's voice stopped her.

"Did you treat your injuries? Do you need me to help with the ointment?" His tone was that of a benevolent master offering charity, which made her chuckle inwardly.

She typed a response on her phone, holding it up with an unbothered smile: No need. Please enjoy your meal. I'll rest now.

Without waiting for his reply, she wheeled herself away, leaving Eric staring after her with a furrowed brow.

She didn't notice the sudden shadow over his expression.

A thought took root in his mind, both ridiculous and undeniable. Was Charlotte angry? Was she… jealous?