After being rescued by the firefighters, Elena spent several days in the hospital, breathing oxygen.

The very first thing she did upon returning to the villa was to cancel Aaron's martial arts and math olympiad classes, as well as Maya's piano and painting lessons.

With the refunded money, she bought herself a complete set of jewelry.

After the divorce, she would most likely walk away with nothing. Jewelry, however, could be carried with her—later to be sold for startup capital.

It wasn't long before one of the tutors called.

"Mrs. Sullivan, did something happen at home?"

"If Aaron and Maya quit halfway, it will really affect their future. What if they can't keep up with the other children? Would you reconsider enrolling them for the rest of the term?"

Elena's voice was calm as she replied, "No. They won't be attending ever again."

Within half an hour, the two children were notified by the butler. They stormed in, faces full of outrage.

"Mom, what right do you have to cancel our classes?!"

Maya's little face flushed red with anger, while Aaron kicked the sofa so hard the sound boomed across the living room.

"It was just a joke that day during the fire! You're an adult—are you really holding a grudge over something so small?"

Elena's tone was even.

"You didn't want to go, did you? I'm simply giving you what you wanted. Is that wrong?"

Aaron puffed up with righteous indignation, even dragging in their father and grandmother as threats.

"If Grandma finds out you've been abusing us, she'll definitely make Dad divorce you! Then Aunt Hillary will be our mom, and you'll regret it!"

Hearing the childish hostility in his voice, Elena closed her eyes, exhaustion seeping into her bones.

"Your opinion of me versus Hillary was set in stone long ago. Think whatever you like."

Maya burst into tears.

"Evil woman! When I grow up, I'll make sure you're thrown out of my house!"

Looking at the children she had raised with her own hands, Elena no longer felt sadness or anger—only a calm sigh.

"No need to wait until you're grown. I'll leave on my own."

"If you want to keep going to those classes, then whoever you want to be your mom can pay for them."

Their eyes darted hopefully toward Hillary. But she quickly looked away, guilt flickering across her face.

She would never spend half a year's living expenses on tutoring for these two little bastards.

The servants were busy cleaning the living room when Hillary's eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. A few well-timed tears slid down her cheeks.

"Elena, I'm a few years older than you, and I've always treated you like a sister. You know I had a relationship with Jackson, and you know I came back to the country with nothing. I love these children dearly, but I truly can't afford this. Must you use this to pressure me?"

Her voice grew more emotional, and when she spotted a familiar figure at the doorway, she seized Elena's hand—swinging it into her own face with a loud crack.

Smack!

That blow not only reddened Hillary's cheek, but also jolted Jackson into awareness.

He immediately pulled the "wronged" Hillary into his arms, his voice heavy with suppressed fury and pain.

"Elena, who gave you the courage to bully Hillary right in front of me?"

Hillary bit her lip delicately, tugging lightly at his sleeve like an innocent doe.

"Jackson... don't fight. This is all my fault."

Elena stared at her fake pitiful act—and suddenly laughed.

"Just now, I didn't lay a finger on her. She grabbed my hand and slapped herself like a madwoman."

Then, in front of everyone, she slapped Hillary across the face.

"This... is my slap."

"A mistress daring to be so arrogant? If I want to hit you, I'll hit you."

Jackson froze in shock, before a torrent of venom spilled from his cold, beautiful lips—calling her unreasonable, hysterical, a shrew.

"Enough..." Hillary tugged at his arm gently. "The children are frightened. We should go and comfort them."

Jackson left with Hillary and the two children, throwing two sentences over his shoulder like knives.

"If you keep acting insane, get out of this house!"

"If you don't want to take care of Aaron and Maya, there are plenty of women who'd be eager to."

When the door closed, Elena shut her eyes lightly.

Very soon, she would grant them their wish—she would leave this house forever.

Seven days left on the countdown—and Hillary was pregnant.

Jackson and the children, Aaron and Maya, crowded around her in excitement, giddy with speculation over whether it would be a baby brother or a baby sister.

They didn't bother avoiding Elena's presence.

The joy of becoming a father again lit up Jackson's face—an expression she hadn't seen from him in years, and he made no effort to hide it.

For Hillary, he dismantled Elena's most precious study and turned it into a nursery. At her direction, he claimed the master bedroom as well, carefully choosing furniture until the villa was filled with pieces Hillary approved.

The children pressed their ears to Hillary's belly, stroking it gently like devoted older siblings.

Even more striking—when she vomited from morning sickness, Jackson ignored his usual fastidiousness and caught it with his bare hands. He cooked for her himself, worried about her nutrition. He moved company affairs home just so he could take care of her at any moment.

Elena simply watched in silence.

So this was what it looked like—to be loved, and not to be loved.

In the past, countless nights she had been there for him—washing his clothes, cooking his meals, scrubbing tables, lowering her pride to serve him.

Compared side by side, she realized she had been nothing but a pitiful joke.

At least now, she had finally woken up.

When Jackson went on a business trip, the overweight Aaron lounged on the sofa crunching potato chips, while the sallow, underfed Maya made a face at her with dirty fingers.

Hillary swayed over with a proud hand on her belly.

"Elena, why do I feel like you've changed so much?" she sneered.

"The old you always listened to Jackson and the kids, never defying them in the slightest. And now that I'm pregnant, you don't cry or make a fuss—what's that supposed to mean?"

Elena calmly slid an envelope toward her.

"Hillary, I want a divorce."

"I don't want Jackson anymore. The children are yours as well. All I ask is that you have him sign this."

The pretense dropped from Hillary's face. Shock flickered in her eyes.

"Are you insane? Do you know how coveted the position of Mrs. Sullivan is? How could you bear to give it up?"

Elena held her gaze, her tone steady and cold. "As soon as Jackson signs, I'll keep my word. I'll step aside and leave."

That same afternoon, barely half an hour later, Hillary returned, her neck marked with love bites—and tossed the divorce papers back at her.

"I told him it was just a villa transfer contract. He didn't even look at it before signing," she said smugly.

"Elena, just what game are you playing?"

Elena said nothing. She simply went upstairs to pack her things.

A single small suitcase—that was her entire life now.

The couple's mugs, matching slippers, the children's toys, Jackson's shirts and ties...

She hadn't brought them when she came, so there was no reason to take them when she left.

She boxed them all up and threw them into the garbage truck outside—as if they had never belonged to her world at all.

She shipped her luggage ahead to Ireland.

The countdown was down to the final day.

It was their seventh wedding anniversary.

Jackson had lavishly booked the entire Harbor Bay cruise ship. Crystal chandeliers scattered dazzling light, and a tower of champagne glasses glittered at the center of the banquet hall.

Alone, Elena stood at the railing, gazing at the white sails in the distance.

Her phone chimed, and a message from Giovanni flashed on the screen.

[Everything is ready, Elena. Trust me. I'll keep you safe.]

Jackson and Hillary mingled with guests, the children at their side—none of them was aware of the storm about to break.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion sounded. Half the deck collapsed. Seawater, sharp with the smell of salt and blood, surged up from below.

Panic erupted. Guests screamed and stampeded toward the inner cabins.

Just before the cabin doors shut, Jackson caught sight of a familiar figure on the deck.

Beneath her churned the furious sea, sharks circling with jaws agape. One step forward and there would be no return—only the abyss.

His pupils contracted sharply. He reached out his hand.

"Elena, are you crazy? Come here—!"

She smiled.

Jackson—this time, she wasn't going to listen.

In the blood-red glow of the setting sun, from ten meters above, Elena—dressed in a scarlet gown—leapt.

Her body disappeared into the waves, and nothing remained.