Chapter 3

My boy, drained of his blood, took his last tortured breath amidst unimaginable agony, severe organ rejection, and rampant infection!

Every minute, every second of his short, tragic seven-year life was nothing but sheer, unadulterated pain.

"Callum..." I tried to stand, but the blinding pain from my broken ribs forced me down. Like a beaten dog with shattered legs, I dragged myself toward him inch by agonizing inch.

"Give his body... back to me..." I clawed desperately at his pant leg.

Callum jerked his leg back as if he had been electrocuted. "His body has already been cremated."

"Then his ashes? Give me his ashes!" I shrieked in absolute despair, my eyes wild with a manic, begging plea.

Right then, Blair, who had been hiding in Callum's embrace, let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

"Callum, my sister is just too pitiful," she pulled out a worn object from her bag.

It was a battered, old music box.

The moment I saw that music box, the blood in my veins ran entirely cold.

I had bought it seven years ago, brimming with joy when I first found out I was pregnant. It originally captured the recording of me singing a lullaby to the baby in my belly.

"Sister, don't get so worked up. Although his ashes are gone, the child clung to this right up until he died half a month ago."

Blair blinked her innocent eyes and pressed the play button.

It was the incredibly weak, tender voice of a little boy. Even his faint breaths were trembling with pain. He was sobbing desperately in agonizing torment:

"Mommy... it hurts so much... why are they taking my blood again... Mommy, where are you... please save me..."

It was my son!

That was his final, dying cry for help!

"Give it to me!!!"

I erupted with the last ounce of strength in my battered body and threw myself at her like a raging madwoman.

But Blair instantly shrank back behind Callum, holding the music box high out of my reach.

"Sister, don't come any closer! You just tried to strangle me, I'm so scared..." Yet, a cruel, mocking smirk hung on her lips. "You want his final voice, don't you? Well, it's not impossible. As long as you drop to your knees right now, kowtow, admit your mistakes, and promise never to disturb our family of three ever again... Not only will I forgive you, but I'll give this back to you."

Callum frowned slightly, but he made absolutely no move to stop Blair's sadistic humiliation.

My brain roared with a deafening buzz.

Kneel.

Kneel to the murderous parasite who stole my life and drained my son's blood dry?

But dignity? Pride?

In the face of my son's feeble, looping cries of "Mommy, it hurts so much" echoing endlessly from the music box, all of it was completely worthless!

I closed my eyes as silent tears crashed against the floor.

My knees gave way, and I fell heavily to the ground.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed my forehead painfully against the floor. "Please. Give it to me."

"Now, can you give me the music box?" I raised my head.

Blair stared down at my pathetic, mud-like posture, an undisguised gleam of supreme satisfaction flashing in her eyes.

"Of course, Sister. It's his last possession; I was only keeping it safe for you out of the goodness of my heart."

She stepped out from behind Callum and smiled, extending her hand to pass the music box to me.

I raised my trembling hands, reaching out to cup it as if it were the sole, most sacred relic left in the universe.

But just as my fingertips were about to brush the edge of the casing—

Blair's fingers suddenly opened.

"Oops—"

The music box plummeted straight onto the hard floor, the casing splintering into pieces upon impact. My son's agonizing "Mommy, it hurts so much" let out a harsh, glitching static noise before fading into absolute, permanent silence.

I froze completely.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, Sister!" Blair clamped a hand over her mouth in exaggerated horror, though she couldn't hide the venomous ecstasy dancing in her eyes. "My hand slipped... You won't blame me, right? After all, it was just a piece of broken junk anyway."

"You..." I blindly groped at the scattered gears on the floor, my fingertips sliced open and dripping thick, red blood from the sharp metal scraps.

Callum subconsciously took half a step back. He immediately averted his gaze from the metallic debris, as if stealing even one more glance would leave him haunted by his own murdered son's vengeful ghost.

"Enough, Seraphina!" Callum roughly pulled the faux-terrified Blair back into his arms, using a loud, irritated tone to mask his own cowardly panic and guilt. "Blair's hands and feet were weak because you just tried to strangle her. She didn't drop it on purpose! Stop glaring at her like you're going to eat her alive!"

"What's done is done. What is the point of you clinging so desperately to the past, obsessing over these relics and acting like a hysterical madwoman, other than to torture all of us?!"

Immensely eager to escape a scene drenched in his own sins, he wrapped a tight arm around Blair's waist. He didn't even dare to look down at me one last time.

"Blair, let's go."

Clutching the pile of broken springs and gears to my chest, I sat slumped on the cold hospital floor.

Suddenly, I felt very quiet. So quiet that I could hear my own heart finally crumbling into absolute ash inside my chest.

I realized then that when someone's heart truly dies, it doesn't hurt anymore.

I had lost myself for so long. I had pathetically begged for the love of my parents, whose hearts had long tilted toward another. I had foolishly hoped Callum would honor his hypocritical vows to love me with his life.

Now, every last illusion, along with my little boy who died screaming in excruciating pain in the dark, had been systematically pulverized into dust by their hands.

Slowly, I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed a number I hadn't touched in seven years.

"Seraphina."

On the other end of the line came a deep, glacial male voice.

Theron.

The patriarch of New York's most powerful financial dynasty. He was also my childhood friend, the man who had pursued me fiercely for years, only to be ruthlessly rejected seven years ago when I foolishly blinded myself with love for Callum.

"Theron. Does what you said seven years ago still stand?"

There was a two-second silence on the line. What followed was a voice as unwavering as iron.

"As long as you are willing to look back, whether it's seven years or seventy, I will always be right behind you."

"Good. I want Callum and Blair to wish they were dead. I want every single one of them to pay the ultimate price. If you help me... I will marry you."