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?"

The barrage of questions left Nicolette speechless. All she could do was shake her head desperately.

I watched her pathetic performance with cold indifference. In my past life, this very act had fooled me into believing she'd made an innocent mistake.

That was why the first thing I did after being reborn was check my family's security footage.

The footage showed Nicolette skillfully unclipping Marshal's collar and luring him out of the house with a pre-prepared meat-scented rope.

When the nanny rushed after them, Nicolette brushed her off with an excuse. "Astrid asked me to take Marshal out for a walk."

She hadn't been clueless at all.

She had planned the whole thing from the start.

Only now did Darius realize just how serious this was.

He wasn't stupid. No one knew better than him what a First-Class Military Merit Medal truly represented.

This wasn't something money could fix.

Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead and he forced out a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Sir, we truly mishandled the situation."

He lowered his posture, trying to appear humble.

"We're willing to apologize, to offer compensation. Just name your price. The Flint Family won't argue."

Once again, he tried to use money to solve the problem. It was the method he relied on most and frankly, the only one he was familiar with.

Alaric stared at him with eyes full of scorn and contempt.

"Compensation? What could you possibly offer? Will you trade your life for the lives of the hundreds of soldiers I lost?"

He took a step forward, the sheer force of his presence making Darius instinctively retreat.

"Do you even know the crime you're committing by desecrating a military medal?"

Darius's lips trembled. He couldn't get a single word out.

"Darius …"

Nicolette tugged at his sleeve timidly, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

"We ... we should call the police!"

Call the police?

I almost laughed out loud.

She probably thought this was just a regular civil dispute.

Darius, as if grasping a lifeline, immediately pulled out his phone.

Alaric watched him coldly but didn't move to stop him.

The call soon connected.

As if he had finally found some sense of control, Darius raised his voice into the phone. "Hello? I want to report a crime! Someone has trespassed into my private residence and is threatening me!"

He exaggerated the situation wildly, trying to paint Alaric as some kind of violent thug abusing his power.

The operator on the other end listened patiently.

Finally, they asked just one question. "Sir, may I have your current location?"

Darius gave the address.

There was a brief silence on the line before the dispatcher replied in a professional yet slightly odd tone. "Sir, we've noted your situation. However, the area you're in has just been declared a temporary military-controlled zone. Local law enforcement has no jurisdiction here."

"What?"

Darius's voice shot up an octave.

"A temporary military-controlled zone? Are you kidding me?"

"Beep, beep, beep."

The only reply was the busy signal of a disconnected call.

Still holding his phone, Darius stood there in a daze, the color draining completely from his face.

Now he understood. This wasn't a game he could control. He had messed with someone far beyond his reach. His head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with terror and disbelief.

"Astrid, you … "

I watched his panic with icy calm.

This was only the beginning.

I will make you all pay a thousand times over for the pain you caused me in a past life.

Alaric took out his phone and dialed a number. His tone had regained the astonishing, clipped precision of a military man.

"This is Davenport Military District's disciplinary unit, right? I'm Alaric Stroud."

"Location is Yverdon Bay Area, Building A, Jenswick City. A serious case of insulting a decorated war hero has taken place here."

"Yes, it's extremely vile in nature."

"Send personnel over immediately. Lock down the scene and detain everyone involved."

"And inform Victor Flint, the chairman of Flint Enterprise. Tell him to get his ass over here now!"

After hanging up, Alaric turned his gaze back to Darius. The look in his eyes was as if he were staring at a dead man.

"Kid, didn't you want to know who I am?"

"Well, I'll tell you now."

"Davenport Military District, Alaric Stroud."

"Marshal was a soldier I personally handed over to Astrid's father."