My father returned from the battlefield with a military dog named Marshal, a hero who earned first-class honors.

However, the poor student I sponsored tried to curry favor with my fiancé by cooking Marshal into a canine fondue.

My fiancé casually picked up a piece of meat at the dinner table and said lightly, "It's just a dog. If it's dead, we'll buy another one. She did go out of her way for you, you know."

What he never realized was that Marshal was our family's guardian spirit. After his death, misfortune struck us one after another.

The company collapsed, my parents died in a car crash and my fiancé had me confined to an asylum, a place where I endured daily torment until my miserable death.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that "canine fondue" dinner.

The poor student was just placing the pot of boiling red broth on the table, gazing at my fiancé with a fawning smile.

Meanwhile, my fiancé tenderly scooped a plate for me. "Try it, she made this especially for you."

I took the plate with a smile. Then, to their shock, I picked up the phone and dialed my father's old comrade-in-arms.

"Uncle Alaric, my fiancé said he wanted to try the taste of a first-class honored dog and I saved a portion for you. When would you like to come and get it?"

——

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

A deathly silence.

I could even imagine the stormy expression on Alaric's perpetually serious, square-shaped face at that moment.

Darius's gentle smile froze.

His handsome features darkened slightly, like he hadn't quite processed what I said.

"Astrid, what kind of joke is this?"

Beside him, Nicolette Vane, the impoverished student I had sponsored for five years, instantly turned pale.

Her shaking hand made the boiling hot red broth splash onto the back of her hand, giving it a bright burn.

She stared at me innocently and terrified, as if she had no idea what was happening.

"Astrid, I ... I didn't mean to. I just heard Darius say he wanted to eat something special, so I … "

Her words dissolved into tears, dripping down like broken strings of pearls.

This pitiful act had completely fooled me in my last life. Even after she killed Marshal, I still thought she was just naive.

How ridiculous!

I ignored her, quietly waiting for a response from the other end of the call.

Meanwhile, Darius's patience had clearly run out. He snatched my phone, his tone filled with condescending impatience and charity.

"Whoever you are, Astrid's in a bad mood today. Just let it go."

He was about to hang up.

When Alaric's thunderous voice suddenly roared through the phone, it was so loud and commanding that it rattled in our ears.

"Let it go? Who the hell do you think you are to decide that?"

"Put Astrid on the phone!"

An expression of surprise crossed Darius's face for the first time as he stood motionless, gripping the phone tightly.

I pulled the phone from his hand and put it back to my ear.

"Uncle Alaric, I'm fine."

"Send me the address. I'll be right there."

Alaric's voice was beyond dispute and then the call ended. The living room fell into an eerie silence.

Darius stared at me, his gaze searching and uneasy, like I'd suddenly become someone unfamiliar.

"Astrid, since when have you known someone like him?"

There was a subtle edge of offense in his voice, like his pride had been hurt.

Slowly, I pushed the plate of "Marshal's meat" that he had so thoughtfully served me toward the center of the table.

The sauce bubbled hot, chunks of meat swirling in it, giving off a sickeningly rich aroma.

"Darius, didn't you say that Nicole tried her best for me?"

I stared at him and asked, word by word.

"Then tell me, what kind of twisted logic makes you think turning the service dog that saved my dad into a canine fondue is some kind of kindness?"

Darius's expression darkened completely. His gaze bore into me as if he wanted to carve a piece of flesh from my face.

"Astrid, are you really going to make a scene over a dog?" His voice was cold as ice.

"Darius, don't be mad. It's all my fault … "

Nicolette sobbed as she clung to Darius's side, her eyes filled with tears. One hand was covering her burn, but the other was tightly gripping the hem of his shirt.

"I thought Astrid would like the surprise. I didn't know that dog meant so much to her. I really didn't … "

Her cries came in gasps, as though she were the one who had suffered unbearable cruelty.

Darius immediately pulled her into his arms and gently comforted her, but his gaze grew even colder and full of blame as he looked at me.

"Look at what you've done. You've scared Nicole."

"She's just a simple girl from the countryside. How would she know what a service dog is? She just wanted to make you happy."

"Even if you don't appreciate it, was it necessary to be so harsh?"

That gentle tone, that protective stance, was identical to how he had comforted his new lover in his arms before he sent me to the asylum in my previous life.

My heart had long since turned to ashes, burned away in the flames of the life I once lived. Now, all that remained was icy hatred.

"Make me happy?"

I scoffed, pointing at the still-boiling red broth in the pot.

"By using my father's comrade-in-arms, the one he valued as much as his own life, just to 'make me happy'?"

"Darius, do you even believe what you're saying?"

Darius's patience seemed to have entirely run out.

He slammed the table and stood up abruptly, looking down at me from his towering height.

"Astrid! That's enough!"

"It's just a damn dog! Dead is dead. If it bothers you that much, I'll replace it with ten, no, a hundred more!"

"Do you have to make everyone so uncomfortable over such a small matter?"

Behind him, Nicolette peeked out from the shelter of his arms, throwing me a barely noticeable smirk.

I caught a glimpse of it.

It was the same triumphant expression she had worn in my previous life when she stood outside the asylum's iron bars, looking at me strapped to the hospital bed.

She had said, "Astrid, see? In the end, Darius still chose me."

She had also added, "Your parents, your company, your Marshal, everything that was yours, is mine now."

The memories surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me.

I dug my nails into my palm and the sharp pain snapped me back to reality.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Once, twice, urgent and forceful.

Darius frowned and impatiently barked, "Who is it?"

No one answered. Yet the doorbell kept ringing insistently.

Annoyed, he strode over and yanked the door open.

Outside stood Alaric, dressed in a sharply pressed military uniform, flanked by two equally stern-faced young officers.

On their shoulders gleamed the unmistakable stars of high-ranking generals.

Alaric's gaze swept past Darius and landed directly on me. The heartbreak and fury in his eyes were so intense they felt almost tangible.

Then, his attention slowly shifted to the canine fondue on the table.

The air in the living room instantly turned to ice.

Darius stood frozen, staring at the three men in uniform at the door.

He'd rubbed shoulders with plenty of wealthy and influential people in the business world, but never had he met anyone with this kind of presence.

It wasn't the kind of pressure that comes from power; instead, it was an aura of iron and blood, forged from a mountain of corpses and a sea of suffering.

"W-Who are you looking for?"

Darius's voice faltered unconsciously.

Alaric ignored him and strode inside.

His military boots struck the polished marble floor with heavy, rhythmic thuds. Each step was like a weight pressed down on Darius and Nicolette's hearts.

His gaze locked onto the pot of meat.

"Where is Marshal?"

Alaric's voice was hoarse, yet calm in a way that felt like the calm before a storm.

I stood and walked over to him, speaking softly, "Uncle Alaric ... this is Marshal."

His body stiffened violently.

Behind him, the two officers turned ashen.

The younger one clenched his fists so hard they cracked, his eyes burning red.

"Bastards!"

He snarled, lunging forward.

Alaric raised a hand, stopping him.

Then, he slowly approached the dining table. He reached out as if to touch the pot, but froze halfway.

His fingers trembled violently in the air.

Darius finally snapped out of his shock.

He glanced at the stars on Alaric's shoulder, then at me. There was a flicker of unease in his eyes, but it was soon drowned out by resentment at being disrespected.

"So, you're Astrid's relatives."

He immediately straightened up, adopting the aloof yet polite demeanor of the Flint Family's heir.

"Just a simple misunderstanding. Astrid threw a fit over a dog and we never meant to trouble you."

With a few careless words, he made it sound like I was the unreasonable one.

"Perhaps you could talk some sense into her. There's no need for this fuss. Whatever the damages are, the Flint Family will cover them."

His tone was light, as if he were discussing some trivial business deal.

Alaric slowly turned, his sharp, tiger-like eyes locking onto him.

"A misunderstanding?"

"You call this a misunderstanding?"

Though his voice wasn't loud, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

"A dog?"

Alaric repeated the word, each syllable gritted out between his teeth.

He reached into his coat and pulled out something carefully wrapped in layers of handkerchiefs.

He unfolded them, revealing a heavy, gleaming medal.

A First-Class Service Medal.

"Open your damn eyes and look!"

"Six years ago, at the southwest border. Marshal drew away over thirty armed drug traffickers on its own to protect a special ops team. He even took seven bullets."

"He cleared a path through a minefield with his mouth, leading soldiers to safety and lost a leg in the process!"

"He's a registered war hero! A savior who rescued hundreds of my men!"

"And you dare stand there and call it just a dog?"

Alaric's voice rose with every word, sharp and furious, until it was nearly a roar.

Behind him, the two officers stood rigid. Their bloodshot eyes fixed on Darius and Nicolette. Darius's face went from pale to ashen and then it deepened into a nasty shade of purple. He was utterly stunned. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Nicolette was even more terrified. She huddled behind Darius, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"I … I didn't know. I swear I didn't know … "

Her sobbing sounded so weak and futile at that moment.

Still, Alaric's gaze cut through her like a knife.

"You didn't know?"

"When Astrid funded your education, did she never mention Marshal's background? Did you miss the ID tag on his collar?"

"When you tricked it out of the Valehart Family, didn't the housekeeper try to stop you? Didn't she tell you that Marshal couldn't just run off with anyone?"