Portia grew increasingly pleased with herself, her satisfaction evident in every word. "I have to admit, my decision was spot on. He’s far better than Ivan in every possible way. It’s just a pity that once the tool ran out, I was dragged back to the original world."

Her smile deepened, a trace of something darker behind her eyes. "But since I love him, I couldn’t bear to stay away. So, I found a way to return to this world. And seeing you in such misery... it fills me with such satisfaction."

"Truthfully, I didn’t want to go after you, but you kept standing in my way, ruining everything. You even made me lose face in front of everyone!"

Dorothy froze and fragments of the past surged through her mind.

She remembered a girl who would visit Ivan at the hospital, bringing him gifts. At first, Dorothy had assumed the girl was just a friend. But then Ivan had told her the truth, that she was no friend at all.

Ivan had always been distant from that girl, showing nothing but indifference. Yet, she clung to him like a shadow, even daring to force her way into his room while he rested.

At first, Dorothy had only tried to advise the girl gently, but soon, she realized something far darker had happened; the girl had somehow caused Ivan to fall unconscious and even touched him. That was when Dorothy had snapped, throwing the girl out without a second thought.

She had never imagined that girl was Portia.

Nor could she have known that Portia would harbor such deep resentment over it.

Seeing Dorothy’s stunned silence, Portia’s tone grew colder, her words cutting deeper. "Let me spell it out for you, Dorothy. Everything you’re going through now is your fault. After all, you were the one who got in my way back then."

A cruel smile curled Portia’s lips. "But I do owe you a thank you. If it weren’t for you, I never would have switched my target to Kyrie. He treats me so well... and he’s far more satisfying than your short-lived brother. I…"

"Shut up!"

Dorothy’s vision blurred with rage as she charged forward, her hand connecting with Portia’s cheek in a stinging slap.

Portia stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide. "You dare slap me?"

"What are you doing, Dorothy!"

The sudden roar from behind shattered the moment. Before Dorothy could react, she was shoved into the bushes, her face scraping against sharp rose thorns that tore at her skin, drawing fresh blood.

"Kyrie, thank goodness you’re here!" Portia rushed into Kyrie’s arms, feigning distress. Though she wasn’t hurt in the slightest, she cried with a dramatic flair, clutching him like a lifeline.

Kyrie’s cold gaze locked onto Dorothy, his voice seething with anger. "Dorothy, you’ve become bold, haven’t you?"

Dorothy gritted her teeth, ignoring the sharp sting on her face as she pushed herself up. "Kyrie, don’t be fooled by her. She’s not who she seems..."

Before she could finish, Kyrie’s hand connected with her cheek in another slap, this time gripping her chin with a vice-like hold. "I told you, no tricks. Apologize to Portia right now."

Dorothy’s heart bled just as her cheek did and with fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms, she glared at Kyrie with defiance. "I won’t apologize!"

Kyrie’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing within them. "Are you sure?"

Dorothy’s fingers, icy and trembling, turned pale from the force of her grip, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "Kyrie, why won’t you trust me? Portia isn’t who she seems. She’s the one pulling the strings!"

"Enough of your nonsense!"

"Since you refuse to listen, I’ll make you see sense!" With that, Kyrie wrenched Dorothy up.

As soon as she was on her feet, a sharp, searing pain ripped through her abdomen, followed by a warm, unwanted rush.

Her period had come.

"Let go of me!" Dorothy fought with all her strength, but Kyrie’s grip was unrelenting, and in the end, he dragged her toward the edge of the swimming pool, her body a captive to his force.

"Get down!"

Before the words even settled in the air, Kyrie shoved Dorothy into the cold water.

With a harsh splash, Dorothy gasped, choking on mouthfuls of water. The frigid sensation engulfed her and the sharp pain in her abdomen intensified. Her face drained of color as she looked at Kyrie, her eyes silently begging for mercy.

But he was unmoved, his expression as cold as the water around her, his gaze hollow and unfeeling.

At that moment, Dorothy felt herself sinking, not just into the water, but into the depths of despair. It was clear now: she and Kyrie could never go back. He was no longer the man she had loved; he had become something unrecognizable, like a stranger or a madman.

"Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her come up until she admits her mistake. Only when she does that can you pull her out!"

Kyrie’s command was chilling. Without another glance, he turned and walked away, Portia clinging to his side.

The servants watched, their faces etched with sympathy. One of them whispered, "Madam, just apologize."

None of them could have predicted how the once inseparable, loving couple had shattered into this cruel, cold reality.

Before, Kyrie had treated Dorothy like fragile porcelain, holding her close, fearing she might break. Now, he had become the very thing that threatened to destroy her.

But now, he was tormenting his wife for another woman…

The servants could hardly comprehend the whirlwind of confusion swirling in Kyrie’s mind. The woman who had captured his attention wasn’t even as beautiful as Dorothy.

In that moment, Dorothy’s vision began to blur, her face draining of all color as the words of the servant echoed in her ears. She fought the urge to bite her lip, but instead, she simply shook her head in disbelief.

It wasn’t until Kyrie’s figure disappeared from view that she finally gave in to the darkness, fainting from the weight of it all.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, nightmares gripped her like cold hands. The memories of her past with Kyrie surged forward, overwhelming her in a crushing wave. She found herself adrift on a vast, pitch-black ocean, utterly alone, desperately searching for something to cling to, her strength slipping away as she neared the brink of drowning.

Back then, Kyrie had been pure, like a delicate mix of ice and water, in a fragile porcelain bowl. The simplest touch, a hand-held, a fleeting kiss, was enough to make him blush, his innocence and affection evident in every gesture.

He used to say, "I really like you, Dorothy; no matter what happens, let's never be apart, okay?"

Dorothy smiled at him, her heart fluttering, but before she could respond with a simple "like," the dream shifted violently.

The man in his twenties had shed the innocence of youth and now his cold presence felt like a blade slicing through Dorothy’s soul.

Without warning, he seized her neck in a ruthless grip. "Why did you come back? Give me my Portia back!"

Dorothy jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat, her chest heaving. Dazed, she felt the tender touch of someone carefully tending to the wounds on her body, applying a soothing medicinal liquid.

The touch was so familiar, so gentle that it made her shiver. Her eyes snapped open and there, hovering above her, was Kyrie.

His gaze was soft, filled with an unfamiliar pity, as though she were a delicate treasure he was afraid of losing.

"You..."

Dorothy’s eyes widened, her mind struggling to grasp the reality of the moment. She couldn’t believe what she saw, her thoughts spinning in disbelief. Was this still a dream?

However, Kyrie’s tender gaze vanished in an instant. His expression shifted as though a storm had overtaken him.

"Dorothy, who gave you the right to hurt yourself? Where did these scars come from?"

He seized Dorothy’s arm, lifting it roughly. The sleeve slid down, revealing the dark marks etched into her skin like a map of suffering.

Dorothy bit her lip, her silence echoing in the space between them. Kyrie’s gaze darkened, his voice turning as cold as the winter wind.

"I’ll tell you this: you’ll die completely, even if you die!"

Dorothy’s heart was numb from the weight of his words. Her eyes burned and with a bitter smile, she looked up at him.

"But aren’t you also hurting me?"

Kyrie fell silent for a moment, his thoughts a storm raging behind his eyes. Then, with a sneer, he spoke.

"Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. You made me lose Portia. I wish you were dead."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Dorothy to face the crushing silence.

With a deafening bang, the door slammed shut. Dorothy stared at the bottles of medicine beside her and the tears she had been holding back finally fell, each drop carrying the weight of her grief.

Her hands trembled violently and an overwhelming urge to grab a knife and cut her wrist surged through her.

In her darkest moments, Dorothy had often turned to self-harm, finding a strange peace in the blood, a way to silence the chaos inside her. But now, the room felt suffocatingly empty, with nothing to grasp onto.

She gritted her teeth, trying to still her trembling hands, but it was hopeless. Finally, she curled up into herself, her sobs silent yet full of despair, like someone who had lost their voice.

For days, Dorothy remained locked in this void of emptiness. The servants brought her food, but Portia would always replace it with leftover scraps.

Portia’s grudge over the slap remained fresh and every chance she got, when Kyrie wasn’t around, she would find ways to humiliate Dorothy, even showing her videos of herself with Kyrie in bed.

Dorothy was on the edge of a complete breakdown. Her body shook relentlessly and the thoughts of self-harm and suicide grew, suffocating her like wild vines. At her lowest point, she even considered ending it all in front of Portia or dragging them both down together.

But when her mind turned to Ivan, still lying in the hospital, she gritted her teeth and fought the urge.

If she died, Kyrie would never care about Ivan’s life.

She couldn’t die.

Portia watched Dorothy, her hands trembling as she tried to hold back the pain, a mocking smile curling on her lips. "Worried about Ivan?"

Dorothy froze, feeling the blood drip from her clenched palm, where she had dug her nails in too deep.

Portia’s voice was cold as ice. "I’ll tell you the truth. Your brother’s condition has worsened. While you’ve been away, his heart disease relapsed multiple times. The doctors have said he’s critical. He’s about to die."

Dorothy’s eyes widened in horror. She hissed, barely able to breathe. "Did you do something to provoke him?"

Portia just smiled, saying nothing.

"Why are you doing this?"

Driven by anger and desperation, Dorothy stumbled out of bed, reaching for Portia’s sleeve. But just as her fingers brushed the fabric, Kyrie stepped through the door.

Dorothy turned instantly, gripping his pant leg with desperate hands. "Kyrie, how’s my brother? Please, let me see him!"

Kyrie looked down at her, his gaze hardening, unable to stomach her pitiful state. He clicked his tongue and tossed his phone at her. "Go ahead."

Without hesitation, Dorothy gritted her teeth, sprang to her feet and bolted out of the villa. Snow fell heavily outside and she stood in the cold for what felt like an eternity before finally hailing a cab. But when she reached the hospital, her heart shattered.

Ivan was gone.

She hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

This couldn’t be true… It was impossible.

Tears blurred Dorothy’s vision as she gripped the doctor’s sleeve. "You must have made a mistake! His heart disease was serious, but not to the point of death! When did this happen? How could this happen? Why didn’t anyone contact me?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Howell, please calm down. Mr. Howell’s condition relapsed last night. We tried to reach you, but we couldn’t."

Dorothy staggered back, barely keeping her balance.

Last night, she had woken suddenly, pain cutting through her chest, a cold sense of dread filling her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her thoughts had turned to Ivan. Yet no matter how desperately she begged, Kyrie had refused to let her go.

Now, they had released her. It was clear they had known Ivan was gone.

"Why did his heart disease relapse so suddenly? It had been stable! Did someone provoke him? Did Portia visit him?"