I used every vicious method to hurt him.

During that time, Alex really humbled himself to the extreme. He cut his wrist. He kowtowed. Countless times, with red-rimmed eyes, he asked me why.

And I just kept telling him, cold as ice, "Because I don't love you anymore."

A man who had never been afraid of anything—for the first time in his life, he cried. He was like a child, sobbing, begging me not to leave. He said he'd get proper treatment, find proper work. He'd give me every cent he earned. He only begged me not to leave.

"Josephine, I won't live much longer, I won't live much longer!"

"Just treat it as charity—can you lie to me? Please?"

"I still have a little money stashed at the bank. The password is your birthday."

"I'll give you everything I have—can't you just stay with me two more days? Just two days…"

Alex trampled his own dignity underfoot. He humbled himself to the dust. He didn't even ask me to love him again. He only asked that in the final days of his life, I would look at him one more time.

I lied to him.

I pretended to agree to get back together. And just as hope flickered back to life in his eyes, I stole all his money.

I remember exactly how much was in that account: $35,800.

It was what Alex had saved to be my dowry. He knew I had no parents, no family to prepare these things for me. He didn't want me to lose face when the time came to marry. So he'd asked around everywhere, learned the customs of my hometown, and scraped together a proper dowry fund.

$35,800—I took every last cent.

I didn't even leave him that beat-up motorcycle.

When Alex learned the truth, he vomited blood in the hospital and collapsed on the spot. His boys went crazy, searching the whole country for me. Someone even put out a bounty. They swore they'd cut me into a thousand pieces to avenge him.

But whether it was Alex or anyone else—none of them found me.

Because I was lying in a hospital bed, preparing for the heart surgery that was about to come.

I broke Alex's heart completely.

I sold myself.

But the money from selling myself—I used it to extend his life.

I never told him that our matching had been a perfect success. Just like I never told him the real reason I left.

Fate finally favored this pitiful man.

Alex's surgery went smoothly. Not only did he recover quickly, but through it, he found the family he'd been separated from for years. Only then did everyone learn that this gifted little punk from the streets was actually blood of the wealthy Harding family, abandoned and left outside.

Alex returned to his roots. After all that bitterness, sweetness came. He moved out of Mongkok Tower and received the best medical care money could buy. He inherited the family business and got engaged to a young lady from another prominent family. His life kept getting better. His name appeared constantly on financial news channels.

And I got the cheapest artificial heart.

Curled up here, quietly waiting for life to fade away.

Seven years passed in the blink of an eye.

Even I didn't expect that at the end of my life, I'd see Alex again.

…

The roar of his sports car shattered my memories.

When I looked up, his figure had already vanished into the swirling dust.

I patted myself off and picked up the scattered change from the ground.

Then I went back to that shabby rental room.

Maybe Alex has already forgotten.

We once lived happily here for a long time.

Maybe he still hasn't been able to forget.

That's why he wants to demolish this building. Demolish every memory tied to me.

But none of that matters anymore.

The service life of an artificial heart is only seven years. Whether Alex forgives me or not, however the world sees me—my life entered its countdown the moment I made my choice seven years ago.

Life is too short. Too short for sighing.

Before death arrives, I only have one way forward—give it everything.

I tidied up the room and waited for the evening's clients.

But that night, it wasn't my regulars who showed up.

It was a pack of vicious thugs.

The rickety door flew open with one kick. They shoved me around, smashing everything in sight.

The lackey in front bowed and scraped to the woman standing off to the side.

I recognized her—Lola Pruitt. Alex's fiancée. The one he'd pursued by throwing around obscene amounts of money.

Lola looked gentle, but her temper was vicious.

The moment our eyes met, she slapped me across the face.

Her sharp nails raked my cheek. She pinched my chin and sneered. "So this is Alex's first love? Doesn't look like much."

"How could she make him unable to forget her for so many years?"

The lackey gave an awkward laugh, still bowing. "How could she compare to you, Lola? She's just a shameless slut. Not even qualified to carry your shoes. If she hadn't used tricks to show up in front of Alex today, I'd never have let her dirty your eyes!"

Lola's gaze grew even more contemptuous.

She covered her mouth in disgust and handed over a camcorder. "Since she's Alex's first love, of course we have to take extra good care of her. Seeing your business is so dead, I found some people to liven things up."

She smiled. "Serve my brothers properly, and I'll find you even more customers."

Under her direction, a group of hulking men with brutal faces moved toward me.

I shook my head in panic. "No, you misunderstood, I'm not—"

Before I could finish, a hand yanked my hair and hurled me sideways.

My body slammed into the wardrobe.

A loud crash—and that long-sealed photo was exposed.

I instinctively reached out to shield it.

The next second, a foot in custom-made leather shoes came down without hesitation.

Glass shards stabbed into my palm. Blood seeped out, staining the photo beneath.

Through the bone-deep pain, I lifted my head.

Alex's face was ice-cold.

He frowned, his gaze passing over me like I was nothing, landing on Lola. "What are you doing?"

Lola wasn't afraid at all. She smiled and hooked her arm through his. "Nothing. Just helping you vent your anger. This woman did that to you back then—I'm not going to let her have it easy."

A trace of a smile finally appeared on that cold face.

Alex reached out and rubbed Lola's head, letting out a soft laugh. "Leave these things to the people under you. Why dirty your eyes because of her?"

That careful, gentle tenderness—it was like looking through time at what I used to be.

Back then, I leaned into Alex's arms the same way. Face full of happiness.

Dreaming of our sweet future together.

But now, what's beating in his chest is my heart.

When he looks at me, there's only endless coldness left.

Alex's words didn't calm Lola's anger. To vent her fury—and rid herself of the jealousy gnawing at her—she grabbed my hair and dragged me from inside the house all the way outside.

My calf scraped across broken glass, leaving a winding trail of blood. Lola looked disgusted and grabbed a basin of cold water, dumping it over me.

"Back then you made Alex kneel here and let people mock him." She sneered down at me. "Today I'll let you experience what that feels like!"

I knew she wanted to humiliate me. I knew none of them wanted me to have it easy. I knew how much Alex hated me.

Chatter erupted all around. Everyone was laughing at me—laughing at me for not knowing my place, for bringing this on myself, for being fickle and willingly cheap.

Even Alex's little brother couldn't help but chime in. "Back then Alex treated you so well. If you hadn't left, the Mrs. Harding today would've been you..."

If I hadn't left, if I hadn't done what I did, Alex wouldn't have lived to see today at all.

I clenched my teeth, refusing to let my tears fall. But my body still trembled uncontrollably from the cold.

Winter in Harbor City doesn't freeze people to death. But that surgery had left my body weak. An ordinary chill could take my life at any time.

I curled up on the ground, rubbing my arms over and over, but I still couldn't hold off the bone-piercing wind—or Alex's icy gaze.

Seven years. I'd endured alone in this swamp of a place for seven years. The beating of the artificial heart was gradually weakening. My life was coming to an end.

I lifted my head to look at Alex one last time. And suddenly, I understood how he felt seven years ago.

At the end of life, at the last moment of a lifetime—I was just like he'd been back then. Humble. Helpless. Begging for the person I loved to turn back and look at me one more time.

But there was nothing.

Seven years ago, I didn't turn back. Seven years later, Alex didn't either.

Until the moment the darkness of death swallowed me, all I heard was an unfamiliar voice.

"Alex Harding, what the hell are you doing!" Third Master's voice cut through the noise. "Josephine gave her heart to you to save you. If you don't know how to be grateful, fine—but do you have to make her die one more time before you're satisfied!"