I watched the shock ripple across his face, and a flicker of dark satisfaction curled through me. Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving only ice in my wake.

"You don't deserve to know."

The moment I stepped out of the Simmons Group building, the cold wind hit me like a slap. Only then did I notice the angry red marks circling my wrist where he'd gripped me.

My phone buzzed. A WeChat message from my foster mother, Queenie Fox:

Surgery fee paid. Don't worry.

Nine words. Just nine words—and my vision blurred with tears.

Aunt Queenie had been against me keeping Denise from the start. She'd never helped raise her, never so much as babysat. I hadn't dared tell her about Denise's illness. Asking for money? Unthinkable.

And yet here she was. The woman who pinched every penny, who'd never warmed to my daughter—she'd come through when it mattered most.

The truth was, I'd always known. Beneath Queenie's sharp tongue and cutting remarks, there was love. Rough-edged and reluctant, but real.

When I returned to the hospital, she was waiting outside Denise's room.

She thrust a thermos into my hands. "Chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot." Her tone was gruff, matter-of-fact. "Denise just got out of surgery. She's going to need you strong."

I clutched the warm container, my nose stinging. "Aunt Queenie, about the fifty thousand..."

"Not now." She cut me off, her voice harsh but her meaning soft. "Focus on Denise. The surgery went well—she can start the specialized treatment soon."

I was about to slip into the room when a nurse from Maureen's ward appeared.

"Miss Mason?" The nurse's voice was carefully neutral. "Miss Maureen Mason is requesting another blood transfusion tomorrow. She says she's feeling unwell."

My fingers tightened around the thermos until my knuckles went white.

Maureen knew. She knew I'd just given 400cc yesterday. This wasn't a request—it was a death sentence wrapped in silk.

But I couldn't refuse. Denise needed specialized medication post-surgery, and I didn't have a single dollar toward it.

The next morning, just as I was preparing for the transfusion, word came from Maureen's people: come to the Mason estate instead.

When I arrived, the housekeeper led me toward the main house. I'd barely crossed the threshold when I spotted him.

Denys Simmons. Standing at the entrance like a storm about to break.

His expression was thunderous. The moment he saw me, he closed the distance in three strides, blocking my path.

"Five years ago." His voice was low, dangerous. "You're going to explain everything. Now."

I met his gaze without flinching. "If Mr. Simmons has time to spare, perhaps spend it on your fiancée. I'm here to give her blood."

I had no intention of entertaining him. He'd made his contempt clear; I had no desire to be tangled up in his world any longer than necessary.

Before he could respond, a honeyed voice floated from inside.

"Denys, darling, don't be so hard on her." Maureen appeared in the doorway, all wounded innocence. "She's being so kind, coming all this way to help me."

The implication dripped from every syllable—as if I were some desperate creature, groveling for her approval.

I didn't bother correcting her.

I walked past them both and extended my wrist to the family physician. "Make it quick. I have a child to get back to."

The doctor had just raised the needle when Maureen suddenly lurched to her feet.

"Oh!" She let out a theatrical gasp, stumbling—no, lunging—straight toward me.

Instinct took over. I sidestepped.

She adjusted mid-fall, throwing herself toward the coffee table instead. Her elbow cracked against the sharp corner, and she crumpled with a wail, tears streaming instantly.

"Sister!" Her voice was pure wounded betrayal. "Why did you push me?!"

Denys was already moving, his long strides eating up the distance. I stepped back reflexively, certain he was coming for me—

And then my collar pulled loose.

The top button gave way, revealing the dark red birthmark just below my collarbone.

The room went deathly still.

I watched the color drain from Denys's face. His eyes locked onto that mark like it was a ghost rising from the grave. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

"It's you." The words came out fractured, disbelieving. "It's really you."

He seized my wrist—not grabbing this time, but gripping, like I might dissolve if he let go. His fingers dug in hard enough to bruise, but his eyes—his eyes were wild with something I couldn't name. Shock. Recognition. And beneath it all, a desperate, almost feverish hope.

"Five years ago. That woman—" His voice cracked. "It was you."

I tried to wrench free, but his hold was iron. Maureen scrambled up, ready to throw herself between us—

Denys shifted.

One smooth movement, and he was shielding me. His back became a wall between us.

Maureen stumbled forward, grasping at empty air, and hit the floor.

"Denys!" Her mask slipped, revealing something ugly beneath. "What are you doing? She's nobody—a bastard child! How could you humiliate me for her?"

Denys didn't release his grip. He didn't look at Maureen. His voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Maureen, I'm only asking you once more. The night of March seventeenth, five years ago—where were you?"

That date. The exact night I'd saved him.

Maureen froze for a split second before scrambling to her feet and clutching at his trouser leg. "Denys, I was with you. Don't you remember?"

Doubt flickered behind his eyes—I saw it. But one sentence from Maureen, and it vanished. It always did. This time was no different.

Their twisted little dance wasn't something I wanted any part of.

But they had no intention of letting me walk away.

Maureen lifted her tear-glazed eyes to Denys, the picture of wounded innocence. Her voice trembled just enough to be convincing. The words that came out, though, were pure venom.

"I heard Denise's surgery was paid for by Queenie Fox." Her lips curved with false sympathy. "Money earned that way... does it sit easy when you spend it?"

She slid a glance toward Denys as she spoke. She knew exactly which buttons to push—how to make him snap.

"Our money is clean." I kept my voice steady. "But I understand. To someone with a filthy mind, everything looks dirty."

My words meant nothing to him.

Maureen's little performance had already darkened his expression, but she wasn't finished. She tugged at the hem of his jacket, her delicate face crumpling with theatrical concern.

"Denys... Denise's daughter just had surgery, but she'll need the specialty drug too." She bit her lip. "Maybe I should let her have mine first..."

What a joke.

Denys treated Maureen like spun glass. He'd spent years chasing treatments for her condition. Besides forcing me to donate blood on schedule, he'd been searching everywhere for this drug—the one her weak heart desperately needed.

Now that he'd finally secured a dose, did anyone honestly believe she'd give it up?

Denys shut her down without hesitation. "Absolutely not. You come first."

"Mr. Simmons, you can't do this." My voice cracked. "Denise can't wait—"

"And Maureen can?" His laugh was cold, cruel. "Don't make me laugh. The daughter of some escort doesn't deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as her."

The disgust on his face hit me like a slap. His words drove into my chest like poisoned needles—each one finding its mark.

I swallowed the pain. "A man with your connections can find another dose whenever he wants. Maureen won't have to wait long. I don't have that luxury. No money. No connections. Nothing."

It was the truth. He didn't want to hear it.

"There's only one dose of this drug." His tone was final. "Maureen gets it."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. When the call connected, his gaze stayed locked on mine. A smile—slow, deliberate, vicious—curled at the corner of his mouth.

"The moment the specialty drug arrives, administer it to Maureen immediately..."

"You bastard!"

I lunged for the phone.

But the height difference made it laughable. He simply lifted his arm, holding the device far out of reach while I crashed against his chest like a wave breaking on rock.

Denys looked down at me, his eyes traveling to my collar—to the skin exposed where my blouse had shifted.

Heat flooded my face. I shoved at him hard.

Behind us, Maureen's shriek pierced the air. "Denys! My chest—it's so tight—I can't breathe—"

The slightest hint of distress from her, and he was already moving. I seized the moment to push free.

"Denys Simmons." My voice shook with fury. "If you give that drug to Maureen, you will regret it."

I knew a few desperate words wouldn't change his mind.

But if I said nothing, how could I live with myself?

He didn't even acknowledge me. He was already at Maureen's side, scooping her into his arms. As he raced toward the stairs, his shoulder slammed into me.

I hit the floor hard.

My head cracked against the corner of a nearby table. Pain bloomed first, then came the warm trickle of blood sliding down my forehead.

I looked up to find Maureen nestled smugly in Denys's arms, her eyes locked on mine with undisguised triumph. In that instant, I knew—she was faking it. Every single bit of it.

I couldn't afford to care about the throbbing in my skull. I dropped to my knees and grabbed the hem of Denys's trousers, my fingers white-knuckled around the fabric.

"Denys, she's pretending. That medication—my daughter needs it. You have to let me give it to her."

He paused at my words, turning his head just slightly toward me. But Maureen was faster. By the time his gaze reached her, her face had already twisted into a mask of agony.

"Denys, I'm not lying to you. You know I would never—"

She didn't finish. Blood spilled from her lips, cutting off her words mid-sentence. Denys kicked me aside without a second glance and swept her into his arms, taking the stairs two at a time.

Over his shoulder, he threw back a single command: "She doesn't leave this house until Maureen is confirmed stable."

The words had barely landed before hands seized my arms, dragging me backward.

"Denys! You can't do this—I have to get back to Denise—"

I thrashed against them, screaming his name until my throat burned raw. It made no difference. They threw me into the room next to Maureen's and slammed the door shut.

"Denys, let me out! Denise needs me!" I hurled myself against the door, pounding until my palms stung. "I'll come whenever you call—I won't interfere with anything involving Maureen. Just let me go!"

The wood didn't budge. No one answered.

With trembling hands, I fumbled for my phone—only to find the screen black. Dead battery. Of course. When it rained, it poured.

Begging Denys was pointless. I had to find my own way out.

I scanned the room. The window caught my eye immediately. If Denys wouldn't release me, I'd release myself.

Footsteps thundered past in the hallway—the family doctor arriving, most likely. Everyone's attention would be on Maureen.

I crossed to the window and peered down. Second floor. Not ideal, but not impossible. I tested the frame. It slid open easily. No security bars.

I didn't let myself think. I dragged a chair over, climbed onto the sill, and jumped.

The moment I hit the ground, white-hot pain shot through my left ankle. I heard something crack—a sound that would haunt me later. But there was no time for pain. I scrambled to my feet and tried to run.

I collapsed immediately.

My ankle screamed with every micro-movement, the agony sharp enough to steal my breath. I tried again. And again. Each attempt ended the same way—face-first in the dirt.

But I was out of time. The jump had been loud. People had noticed.

"Did she just—Alberta jumped from the second floor! Has she completely lost her mind?"

The voices drifted down from above. If they'd heard, so had Denys.

I looked up.

There he was, framed in Maureen's window, staring down at me. His brow furrowed, jaw tight. Then he ripped the curtain aside with barely contained fury and vanished from view.

He was coming.

I forced myself upright, biting back a scream as I hobbled toward the front gate. Every step was glass and fire, but I kept moving. I had to.

A taxi appeared at the end of the street—a small miracle. I threw my hand up, waving frantically. The car slowed, pulled over.

I was wrenching the door open when Denys's shadow fell across the entrance behind me.

"Central City Hospital," I gasped at the driver. "Please—hurry."