My family home accidentally catches on fire, and my father risks his life to save my sister. He ends up with severe burns and urgently needs a blood transfusion to save his life.

I'm not in the vicinity, so I ask my fiancé to help. He tells me the hospital doesn't have enough blood stored and mobilizes the city's blood banks—he does it to save my sister, who only has minor burns.

Leonard Gallagher shows up when I'm at my most desperate. He takes 600ml of my blood and rushes back to my hometown. Meanwhile, I pass out by the roadside due to severe blood loss.

When I wake up, Leonard tells me my father has died due to significant blood loss. I'm disfigured after knocking my head on a sharp rock.

He holds my bandaged face tenderly and tells me he'll use his life to make it up to me.

After three years of marriage, I'm six months pregnant when I lose consciousness and need to be rescued. That's when I overhear Leonard's conversation with a doctor.

"It's been three years. Can we do the skin grafting procedure again? Zoe needs it for her cosmetic surgery."

"Mrs. Gallagher has recovered very well, so it's okay to proceed with the procedure. However, even if she's Ms. Lore's sister, there's still a chance of rejection."

"Her blood already flows in Zoe's veins—what does the skin matter? It's already the second time, anyway."

It turns out the help I've given on the brink of death only leads to Zoe Lore's enhanced beauty. To Leonard, I'm nothing but a source of flesh and blood for Zoe.

I'm tired. I think it's time to be reunited with my father.

In the deathly silent ward, only the sound of the ventilator could be heard. Outside in the corridor, the doctor couldn't help but sigh in amazement.

"You already have a family of your own. Why go to such lengths for Zoe? What are you hoping to gain?"

Leonard Gallagher's expression was devout, his smile tinged with self-mockery.

"As long as she's happy, I will give up everything. She is my goddess. How could I ever defile her?"

The doctor offered a kind reminder. "Mrs. Gallagher is pregnant. A large-scale skin graft could lead to severe bleeding, and if anything goes wrong, it could be fatal.

"Besides, most victims suffer from psychological distress, sometimes even suicidal tendencies. She underwent two facial grafts in three years. I'm afraid that she may never live an average life again.

"We strongly recommend taking skin from Zoe's own back instead. The risk of rejection would be lower, and her recovery much faster."

Leonard interrupted hastily, his voice firm, "The skin on back is too rough. It wouldn't suit her. I won't allow a single scar to mar her body!

"Zoe loves looking beautiful. The last time she botched a double-eyelid surgery, she nearly set herself on fire in despair. Fortunately, it was just a minor burn. If I hadn't suggested a skin graft, she might never have recovered from the trauma. How could I risk putting her through that again?"

The doctor let out a sigh.

"It would be best to wait until after Mrs. Gallagher gives birth. Her chances of survival would be much higher. But with another disfigurement on top of postpartum depression, any woman would struggle to bear it."

A hint of smugness flickered in Leonard's eyes. "My love is enough to bring her back to life. I will protect both her and our child."

Tears streamed down my face, rolling past my ears. Then, suddenly, a sharp pain flared up.

The skin that the doctor had just removed was merely a trial run for my sister, Zoe Lore's facial graft. Even though it was the second time, he still wasn't at ease.

I staggered to the floor-to-ceiling window, desperate to see my own reflection.

Fireworks bloomed outside, casting light onto the glass.

There, I saw them—eight neat, evenly spaced scars on my thighs…

If I counted carefully, I had collapsed precisely eight times in the past three years of my marriage. The soft, flawless skin I once had had become a gift Leonard presented to Zoe.

The only untouched part of me was my belly, now stretched and scarred with pregnancy marks.

To replace Zoe's burnt skin, he had destroyed my face. He knew full well who had started that fire.

He knew that the 600ml of blood she received had been mine. It was drawn only after I knelt and begged the nurse. And yet, he still gave my father's final hope to someone who had been set on dying.

Three years ago, my father died. I thought that I had found salvation in this marriage. I foolishly licked my wounds in the illusion of safety. But three years later, it was finally my turn.

In the mirror, the freshly healed skin on my face still bore faint traces of the sutures from three years ago.

When my baby was born and saw its mother wrapped in bandages, would it cry in fear?

I forgot about the pain and clawed at my face with all my strength.

Leonard arrived at some point. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and instantly yanked the curtains shut with the other. His grip was so tight that I gasped in pain, and only then did he loosen his hold in a panic.

"Don't scratch your face. It hurts me to see you like this. Didn't we agree that you shouldn't look in the mirror until you're completely healed?

"If you really want to see yourself, just look into my eyes. In them, you will always be the most beautiful."

He had fooled me with such tender, deceptive words a thousand times. But eyes wouldn't lie. As I gazed into them, I knew that I had no place in his heart. What he cherished all along was never me but my flesh.

I refused to give up. Through choked sobs, I asked, "And if I were disfigured again?"

"I would simply have to take extra care of you. How could a husband ever grow tired of his own wife?"

His words were airtight, but he never denied my suspicion. In his heart, he had already agreed to Zoe's request.

He carried me back to the bed, not wasting a second before pressing an ice-cold towel to my skin.

Drowsiness overtook me, and just before I drifted off, I heard him murmur, "Zoe, I will keep your things safe for you. Just wait three more months."

The moment he finished speaking, fireworks burst outside the window, spelling out a single name—"Zoe".

That day was Zoe's birthday. The dazzling fireworks outside looked just like the flames that engulfed my father.

'Dad, if you knew the truth, would your heart ache as much as mine?' I thought.

Leonard's phone screen hadn't turned off. On it was a newly liked post from his feed.

Zoe had posted three private photos of herself in a dress, captioned, "The secret to beauty is drinking lots of warm water. Let's all stay beautiful in the new year!"

The comments were full of compliments. A few people speculated about how she had become more beautiful, but Leonard shut them down immediately, saying, "The uterus has an evolutionary function. Generally, younger sisters are naturally more beautiful than their older ones. It's perfectly normal."

I let out a hollow, mindless laugh.

The vanity in the background was filled with luxury skincare products.

Each bottle and jar had neat labels—"Use in the morning after using toner." The handwriting was Leonard's.

When it came to Zoe, he was always meticulous, personally tending to every detail.

I supposed that I had also benefited from her. I received endless tubes of skin regeneration cream and an abundance of cheap scar removal ointments.

I opened their chat. A one-million-dollar transfer took up the entire screen.

Yet, his message was restrained and almost careful. It read, "Happy birthday. The fireworks are beautiful, and so are you."

A new message popped up. Zoe had sent him a few photos.

A silk robe traced her curves, and nude-colored heels accentuated her long legs.

"This is your reward. See you at the usual place tomorrow."

The usual place? Tomorrow?

Tomorrow was my father's death anniversary. Leonard would accompany me to our village every year to visit his grave.

So this year, he had someone else to keep company.

The image of Leonard and Zoe together flashed through my mind, and a wave of nausea surged up my throat. I flipped the phone over, face down.

The thick stack of medical records sat beside my bed. I took a deep breath and forced myself to open them.

The moment I saw the contents, my breath caught, and a searing pain twisted through my insides. It wasn't a medical record. It was practically a diary of Zoe's cosmetic procedures.

He had documented every patch of skin and graft with meticulous care.

"Skin from the inner thigh for Zoe's burned instep. She loves wearing high heels. Her feet must be soft and flawless.

"Chest skin for Zoe's back. No more acne there, so she can look stunning in backless gowns.

"Zoe dislikes the birthmark on her waist. Alicia's waist is the most beautiful. It's perfect for Zoe."

...

The last entry was dated for the day after my due date. It was a detailed surgical map of my face, which was brutal and horrifying.

In Zoe's section, drawn in red ink, was a carefully outlined heart labeled "Perfect."

I had always thought of myself as a strong person. I could face the storms without fear and bloom as long as I was alive.

Who would have thought that I was never meant to bloom? I was just someone else's nourishment.

I had no more tears left to shed. I was exhausted. I stepped barefoot out of the ward with no strength to look any further.

I picked up a pen at the reception and signed the do-not-resuscitate agreement.

I had been fainting frequently. Afraid that one day I would become a burden to him, I had prepared this in advance.

I never imagined that it would become my final release.

I hesitated, then signed the Body Donation form. Rather than spend my life feeding Zoe, I would rather give myself to those who truly need it.

"Why are you running around barefoot? What are you signing? Is that your discharge papers?"

Leonard scooped me up with one arm and frowned at the documents in my hand.

"You just focus on getting better. I'll handle everything else at the hospital."

His body was burning with heat, and the lingering effect on his face still did not fade, clearly from seeing Zoe's photos.

The heat in his body expressed his raw desire for her. He had probably defiled her a hundred times in his mind already. His hand wrapped around my foot, trying to warm my icy toes.

The familiar warmth sent a deep chill through me. I pulled away, curling into the blanket.

He paused, momentarily stunned, then gently tucked me in.

A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. "Alicia, it's snowing. Let me go with you tomorrow."

I opened the car door to find that Zoe was already sitting in the passenger seat.

Before she could speak, Leonard explained, "The back seat has more space. It's more comfortable for you to sit there."

The custom-made pregnancy seatbelt hung beneath the seat. I placed my things without saying anything and quietly got in the car.

As long as Zoe was around, I would always be in second place.

The atmosphere was tense. Leonard tried to start a conversation, saying, "You brought so many flowers? Your father must be pleased in the afterlife.

"If he knew that his daughter, who traded her life for his, was so filial, he would be happy even in the afterlife."

His words were insincere. If it weren't for the two of them, my father wouldn't have died. How could he be happy, all alone in the underworld?

I replied coldly, "It's been three years. That's why this much is needed."

Zoe rolled her eyes and lightly reproached me, "Why are you sulking so early in the morning? Do you think that you're the only one who's sad about Dad's death? Leonard, let's not pay her any attention."

They started discussing the new variety show that Leonard's company, Gallagher Group, was investing in. Zoe was the rising star they were promoting.

She made countless requests, her mouth continuously flapping. Leonard, however, looked at her with affection and smiled indulgently as he agreed to each one.

On the vast, snowy road, it was clear that I was the only one who was truly heartbroken.

I remembered that it had been three years since new soil had been added to my father's grave. I opened the inheritance account my father had left behind. The 300 thousand dollars was gone.

I checked the details, and the remittance came from Eden Plastic Surgery, with the note—"Eye repair surgery."

My eyes fell on the transaction date, and the impact hit me like a heavy blow to the head. It was on the eighth day of the New Year, the day my father died.

It was because of a failed cosmetic procedure that my father had died saving Zoe. She felt no guilt and had even used his life savings on this.

A deep sadness filled my heart, and I felt how unjust it was for him.

On the way to the grave, I held my stomach, walking ahead with uneven steps.

Behind me, Leonard carried Zoe.

I glanced back. She whispered in his ear, and his face was full of youthful innocence, joy shining as if he had found a treasure.

He deliberately walked slowly. Snow gathered on his shoulders, and his perfectly tailored suit was covered in mud. Perhaps he was hoping to grow old with her.

The phone rang, and he freed one hand to answer.

"Mr. Gallagher, Mrs. Gallagher's pregnancy has caused Ms. Zoe's skin to become mismatched. The rejection is severe!"

Zoe's face instantly darkened. I turned around as if I hadn't heard anything and quickened my pace.

For a brief moment, I felt a sense of relief.

It was my father who had saved me. He knew the pain I had endured.

Standing before the headstone, I opened the cloth bundle. It wasn't filled with flowers but photos from the past three years.

Each photo had been torn from the pictures I had taken with Leonard.

My father hadn't been able to see me for the last time before he died, so I burned these photos for him to see.

"Just wait, Dad. I'll join you soon," I murmured.

The wedding photos burned to ashes before Leonard and Zoe finally arrived.

With tears in my eyes, I prepared to kneel and bow. But Leonard removed his suit jacket and placed it beneath my knees.

His expression was one of concern. "The ground is cold, Alicia. Kneel on this, and don't press on your stomach."

Zoe sneered, clearly having no intention of kneeling. She was the one who should apologize to my father.

I urged angrily, "Zoe, kneel and bow to Dad!"

"Zoe is wearing a short skirt, so it's not convenient for her to kneel. It's fine as long as her heart is in the right place." Leonard shielded Zoe by standing behind her.

I stood up straighter, my eyes red. "It's a must. Wasn't it you who set the fire that killed Dad?"

Both of them froze. Zoe squeezed out some tears and unwillingly knelt.

Leonard was driven mad with distress. "Alicia, are you done? Zoe didn't even know that Lewis was home when the fire happened. Besides, even Lewis didn't blame her. What right do you have to blame her?"

Zoe covered her face and started crying.

"Enough, Leonard. The sight of Dad's burn injuries when he died trying to save me is a nightmare I can't forget. I owe Alicia everything. If she wants to uncover my scars, let her!"

It again became my fault, as it had been all my life. Everyone in the family favored her except for my father... but he had left me.

I didn't want to argue anymore. I simply knelt and bowed.

As I bowed, Zoe whispered, "The fire was intentional. That old man wouldn't give me the money for surgery when he was alive, so I had to make him die. Now, I can have his inheritance!

"Before Dad breathed his last breath, he saw me take the blood you gave him and immediately understood the situation. Do you think he died out of pain or anger?"

I reached into my pocket and pressed the button to pause the recording.

When I saw the transfer receipt, I sensed that something was wrong. Even after hearing the truth, I found it hard to accept.

My body trembled, and my fists clenched. Dirt wedged into my nails. I struggled to stand, but my body gave way, and I collapsed.

Leonard had poured the medicine onto my collar.

The last thing I saw before I passed out was Zoe's smug smile.

Perhaps because of overuse, but I had developed a resistance to the drug.

In the hospital, I regained consciousness, but my body was immobile.

With all my strength, I started recording once more.

"Umbilical cord blood may have cosmetic benefits, but extracting it early could cause premature birth, and the mother could face life-threatening complications!

"This is the last thing I can do for Zoe. The baby's six months old. It's not too small, and I'm confident that I can keep it alive. As for Alicia, she's been through multiple resuscitations and always comes back from the brink of death, so there's nothing to worry about."

On the operating table, I fainted from pain, no longer breathing.

The doctors, however, focused on saving my baby.

Leonard immediately stood up and ordered, "Save Alicia!"

"I'm sorry, but the patient has previously signed a do-not-resuscitate agreement. We must respect her wishes."