Emily shot a resentful glare at Charlotte, then tugged at Eric's sleeve, her voice laced with a hint of tears. "Eric, my stomach hurts…"

Panic flickered visibly across Eric's face. Without hesitation, he scooped Emily up gently in his arms and rushed her into the obstetrics department.

Inside Charlotte's mind, the system's voice chimed in urgently. [Host, why didn't you tell him you have cancer?]

'I'm worried it'll complicate things and hinder my plans to leave,' she replied calmly. 'Besides, I want to restore my face before I go.'

Wasting no time, Charlotte booked an appointment with the same clinic where she had undergone her original plastic surgery. She made it clear that her request was to reverse the alterations and return to her natural appearance.

"You've finally come around," Dr. Jim Sagal remarked when he saw her. "I told you back then not to do it, but you were stubborn."

Charlotte offered a faint smile but didn't respond.

Dr. Jim studied her expression. "No need to type. I've learned sign language since then—it's more interesting than I thought."

Her eyes lit up at his words, and she quickly used sign language to outline her request: remove all the implants, minimize the incisions, and ensure a swift recovery.

He nodded, observing her silently. Seven years ago, he had known Charlotte as the true heiress of the Spencer family, later becoming Mrs. Lorvis. He had also heard that it was Eric who pressured her into reshaping herself to resemble the Spencer family's fake heiress. The irony had not escaped him then, and it didn't now.

She had been his only patient out of thousands who insisted on making herself less attractive—a decision he hadn't been able to dissuade. Now, it seemed, she had finally awakened.

On the fifteenth day before the end of her mission, Charlotte returned to the Lorvis family home to pack her belongings. Her surgery was scheduled for the next day, and Dr. Jim had informed her that she would need at least a week in the hospital to recover.

Determined, she packed swiftly and contacted a lawyer to draft divorce papers.

She had made up her mind. If she was going to see Meghan again, she needed to sever every tie to the life she despised.

As she stepped out of the house with her suitcase, she ran into Eric at the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice sharp.

She handed him a note she had prepared in advance. "I'm going to the hospital to take care of the orphanage director. I want to spend one more week with her."

Eric frowned, his first thought being that she was still upset with him. After a pause, he pulled a bracelet from his pocket—a dazzling piece that was unmistakably expensive.

"This is for you. Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

Charlotte's brows knitted in confusion. This was the first time he had ever spoken to her in a conciliatory tone while giving her a gift. In the past, he had tossed things at her casually, often laced with disdain.

Before she could react, Brian walked in, his gaze landing on the bracelet. His mouth fell open.

"Eric, don't tell me that's the bracelet you spent 5 million on at yesterday's auction? Weren't you going to give it to Emily?"

At that moment, Emily entered the scene, her shy smile directed at Eric.

Charlotte said nothing, and Eric's face twisted in discomfort. Yet he still turned and handed the bracelet to Emily, avoiding Charlotte's gaze as though afraid of seeing disapproval in her expression.

But Charlotte didn't care. She had long understood that Eric's heart belonged to Emily. The lavish gifts sent overseas every year were a testament to that, while the items he gave her could be counted on one hand.

The surgery was over in what felt like the blink of an eye. Thanks to the anesthesia, Charlotte experienced it as nothing more than a long nap. When she woke, she felt the bandages on her nose and chin. They didn't look as unsettling as they had after her first surgery, but her body was noticeably weaker.

The persistent coughs and searing pain in her chest were getting worse. Even Dr. Jim seemed concerned.

"Are you sick? Should I take you to the hospital for a check-up?"

Charlotte looked at him, a man she considered one of the few decent people in this world. She didn't use sign language this time, opting instead to type out a long message on her phone.

"I won't lie to you. I am sick. When I die, I'll need you to help me with one thing—cremate my body and scatter my ashes in the sea. I hate this world, but I have no choice but to stay in it for now…"

Jim froze, the weight of her words sinking in. He hadn't expected the young woman before him, whom he remembered as radiant and full of life at twenty, to be facing the end.

"I promise," he said softly.

The next few days brought a strange, fragile kind of joy to Charlotte.

Freed from the burden of tending to Eric or enduring the servants' quiet insults, she found herself strangely at peace, even as her body continued to weaken. Sleep consumed her more and more, and there were moments when she coughed up blood, staining the quiet hours.

But none of it seemed to matter—she was going to see Meghan soon.

Dr. Jim, when not occupied, would often visit and tell her stories. In turn, she shared snippets of her past at the orphanage—fragmented memories that carried a bittersweet weight. Their conversations, unburdened by judgment, were light yet meaningful, each exchange a fleeting reprieve from the heaviness of her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Emily made her presence felt in the most insidious way. She sent photo after photo to Charlotte—photos that were far from innocent. Intimate pictures of stolen kisses, warm embraces, the disarray of hotel beds, and scattered clothes. Each image carried an unspoken taunt.

"Did you know? Eric loves this child," Emily texted alongside a picture of her cradling her stomach. "He's going to divorce you soon. When that happens, Charlotte, what will you do?"

The Eric in those photos seemed like a stranger—gentle, doting, a version of him she had never encountered. With a steady hand, Charlotte blocked Emily's number. She stared at her phone for a moment longer, her thoughts drifting to how she might finally make Eric sign the divorce papers.

Five days before her mission ended, she was discharged from the hospital. Before leaving, she handed Dr. Jim the address of the crematorium she had contacted. With a quiet smile, she formed a simple sign of gratitude in sign language.

When she returned to the Lorvis household, she was met with a flurry of activity. Servants bustled about, arranging decorations and preparing the grand hall. Only then did she realize—it was Eric's birthday.

From the living room, she could hear murmurs and low voices. She stepped in and immediately caught Eric's gaze. He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"What happened to your nose and chin? Did you get hurt?"

Charlotte shook her head and signed, "I had the implants removed. Soon, I'll return to my original appearance."

His hand curled into a fist at his side, his expression tight with something unreadable. "Why now? You went to such lengths to make yourself look like Emily back then, even borrowing money for it."

Her lips curled in a faint, mocking smile as she signed, "I made myself ugly once. What's wrong with wanting to be beautiful again?"

The air between them grew heavy. Eric's face darkened, while Emily, standing nearby, stiffened. Charlotte's calmness unnerved her—why would a mere substitute want her own face back?

"Today's my birthday," Eric said after a pause. "Dress appropriately and show up tonight."

Charlotte rolled her eyes but nodded. The divorce agreement in her room reminded her that compliance was the quickest way forward.

By nightfall, the Lorvis family estate brimmed with life. The elite of society filled the hall, their laughter and chatter mingling with the sound of clinking glasses. Brian arrived with Emily, drawing immediate attention.

"Look! It's the Spencer siblings! And Emily, Eric's favorite. I heard she moved into the Lorvis estate after her divorce. He can't bear to be apart from her, can he?"

"Exactly. As for the current Mrs. Lorvis… What a joke. Isn't she mute? And a lapdog, no less. She's probably off crying in a corner."

Another chimed in with a sneer, "A bastard daughter trying to live the high life. The audacity."

A group of young men close to Eric laughed openly. "Eric's love for Emily is no secret. Didn't they just visit the hospital together recently? Maybe the wedding bells are near."

Amidst the chatter, Charlotte stood by a small table, quietly eating a slice of cake.

Brian, noticing her solitary figure, smirked and sauntered over with a group of friends in tow.

"Back from surgery, are we? Trying to win him over with a new face? Even if you were a goddess, Eric wouldn't want you." His tone was biting. "I've been telling you to divorce him, but you refused. Now look at the spectacle you've made of yourself."

Before she could react, he reached out and ripped off the bandages covering her face. He froze. The room seemed to still as her unaltered features came into view—a striking beauty that had once turned heads, untainted by surgical tweaks.

"You— You've gone back to your original face, Charlotte?"

Someone else muttered in awe, "She was gorgeous before. The surgery ruined her proportions. Since Eric isn't interested in her anyway, perhaps we could have a go at her."

The words grew bolder, more suggestive, as the group leered at her.

Before she could slip away, one of them shoved her toward the grand, towering birthday cake. She stumbled, falling against it with enough force to topple the ornate confection.

The room erupted into chaos.

Amid the gasps and whispers, she began coughing violently, her frail body wracked with spasms. Blood flecked her lips, staining the ruined cake in vivid crimson—a macabre bloom in the sea of white frosting.

When Eric arrived, he found Charlotte in a pitiful state, covered in a mixture of cake and blood.

"Someone, call a doctor!" he shouted.

Charlotte slowly tried to rise, shaking her head in refusal. She didn't need a doctor, not really. The cream smeared across her body made her nauseous, a sickly sweetness clinging to the air. Her face was pale, ghostly.

Seeing her like this, Eric couldn't suppress his concern. He reached for her, trying to hold her steady.

Then, a loud cry rang out from behind.

"Help! Emily… it looks like she's had a miscarriage. Someone call an ambulance!"

Eric froze, his hand still hovering near Charlotte. His face tightened, troubled. He hesitated, then reluctantly withdrew, letting her go.

"Take care of yourself. Emily's situation is worse—I have to go to her," he said curtly, turning away to make his way toward the commotion.

The crowd shifted as he walked past, scattering like smoke. No one spared a second glance at Charlotte, this mute, forgotten figure in the corner.

But Dr. Jim noticed. He walked over. "Why did your bandages come off? Should I take you to get them fixed?"

Charlotte smiled faintly, nodding.

They walked in silence. Finally, Dr. Jim couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Charlotte, I just don't understand," he said, his voice low, almost weary. "Eric doesn't care for you. Why do you keep putting yourself through this? Doesn't it hurt?"

Charlotte lowered her gaze, pulling his hand into hers. She began to write on his palm, her fingers moving slowly, deliberately.

"It hurts," she wrote. "But I have to do this. I need to finish what I've started."

The last words hung in the air, and Dr. Jim felt something click in his mind. So she was here for another reason, someone else's purpose, bound by duty rather than choice.

Charlotte said nothing more, as if that explanation had been enough. What she had shared with him was more than enough, too much, maybe. She didn't need to say more.

Later that night, Eric returned, drunk. He stumbled into the room, his eyes half-lidded as he spoke about the evening's events. "Emily drank some fruit juice at the banquet and had a miscarriage…"

His face twisted with anger. "Whoever tampered with that juice—mark my words, they will regret it."

Charlotte couldn't help but smile bitterly at his words. She picked up a note she had written beforehand and showed it to him. "The orphanage is holding a charity dinner. They want to invite you. You don't have to go, just sign here. I'll forgive you for everything that's happened before, if you sign."

Eric blinked, a small laugh escaping him. "Sure. As long as you forgive me, Charlotte. Tell me, will you forgive me for anything I've done?"

Charlotte saw him hesitate, pen hovering over the paper. She sighed inwardly and nodded, forcing herself to comply. Eric signed quickly, then pulled her into a tight embrace.

She hated it, hated the scent of alcohol on his skin, the closeness, but she endured it. She could bear it, just a little longer. For Meghan.

On the third-to-last day, Charlotte burned all her clothes. Eric was at the hospital with Emily, keeping her company while she recovered.

On the second-to-last day, Brian sent someone to question Charlotte, accusing her of causing Emily's miscarriage. She denied it, but before she could explain further, Eric arrived, ordering the staff to shut her in.

And on the final day, Eric arrived with a maid, a witness, to confront her.

"Why did you do it? Why did you hurt Emily? Even if she's pregnant, I won't divorce you, Charlotte. Can't you accept that she and the child are more important than you?"

He didn't even give her a chance to speak, instead binding her before Emily.

"Emily, feel free to take out your frustrations on her," Eric said.

Emily smiled sweetly, directing the bodyguards. One strike after another landed on Charlotte's body, each lash more painful than the last.

Charlotte attempted to sign something, but no one cared to understand. She coughed violently, blood seeping from her lips. The pressure in her lungs was suffocating. As her body seemed to shut down, she reached into her mind, connecting with the system.

'Help me contact Dr. Jim. I don't want my body to fall into Eric and Emily's hands.'

The system responded promptly. In her delirium, Charlotte could hear the seconds ticking away, the countdown to her end slipping past, one moment at a time.

When only five minutes remained, Dr. Jim arrived.

"What have you done to yourself?" he exclaimed, rushing to her side.

Charlotte smiled weakly, struggling to gesture. "Thank you for coming to collect my body. I'll repay you in another life."

As they rushed to the hospital, Charlotte felt the weight lift from her chest. The countdown hit zero, and she let out a sigh, her hand falling limp by her side.

Dr. Jim held her close, tears streaming down his face as he cried for her.

Meanwhile, Eric sat at his office desk, growing increasingly agitated. He couldn't fathom how Charlotte could have harmed Emily. He was convinced Emily had struck Charlotte, and that should have been the end of it.

But then, the phone rang, cutting through his thoughts. It was from the Lorvis estate.

"Mr. Lorvis, you need to come back. A man came and took your unconscious wife away."