Chapter 2

On Friday afternoon, I unilaterally cancelled the agreement to go to the family law firm to sign documents.

The backlash from being disconnected from the program's startup was more severe than I had imagined.

Since early yesterday morning, my body has felt like a machine whose power has been forcibly cut off, and my organ functions are depleting at a heart-stopping rate.

My vision was blurred by the high fever, and a continuous, excruciating pain emanated from the very bones.

"Valentina... pour me a glass of water."

My chapped lips instinctively uttered those words, but the next second, I opened my eyes, stared at the ceiling, and gave a mocking smirk.

The room was empty; not even a trace of her perfume remained.

I forgot, she moved out a long time ago.

[Alert: Host's vital signs are declining. Organ failure index 12%, progressing out of control...]

The system's mechanical voice coldly broadcast in my mind, like a precise executioner counting down the seconds.

That's good; death is indeed knocking on the door.

I leaned against the headboard, and the day Valentina moved out kept replaying in my mind.

“Antonio is dying. The old wound from when he took that bullet for me has flared up. I’m going to be with him, to see him off on his final journey.” She looked at my pale face, and her tone softened for the first time. “After all, it was a human life. The wedding is just a ceremony, to ensure he leaves a mark on the family history.”

“If we end our partnership, we can never get back together,” I warned her, looking her straight in the eye.

Upon hearing those words, she panicked, which was unusual for her.

The woman who was ruthless enough to kill without blinking an eye at the negotiating table suddenly rushed over and hugged me, burying her head in my chest, her voice even trembling with tears: "Adrian, don't force me like this. Antonio really was just my most loyal subordinate! After he dies, I will definitely come back and remarry you!"

I believed it at the time.

The system told me that as long as the relationship is restored within three months, the task will not be considered a complete failure.

I think that after fifteen years of relationship, she must have had her limits.

However, just one week later, reality slapped me hard in the face.

That day, I went to the family estate's office area to deliver an urgent document to her, taking a shortcut through the underground parking garage.

In the dim light, two overlapping figures sat in my family's exclusive bulletproof Maybach.

The car was still running.

I saw with my own eyes that Antonio, who always claimed he only had three months to live, was energetically reaching his hand into Valentina's hem.

My wife, the supreme godmother of the Colombo family, not only did not scold him, but instead took the initiative to lower her head and kiss him back, rubbing his head affectionately like soothing a spoiled dog.

They were so deeply in love that they couldn't bear to part.

At that moment, I stood behind the load-bearing pillar in the garage, and I didn't even feel angry.

I simply tossed the core document I had annotated overnight, along with my heart that had loved her unconditionally for fifteen years, into the trash can next to me.

The frantically vibrating phone on my bedside table pulled me back to reality.

Caller ID: Valentina.

The moment the call connected, an accusatory voice, carrying an undeniable pressure, swept in: "Adrian, where are you? My lawyer told me you didn't even go to sign the papers. I warned you, no lateness today!"

"I have a fever. I can't go." I looked at the back of my hand, which was covered with red veins due to the high fever, and said in a hoarse but calm voice.

"Fever?" A cold laugh came from the other end of the phone, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. "Adrian, are you kidding me? You're as strong as an ox, and you've rarely even caught a cold in the past fifteen years. Why did you have to get a fever today while signing documents?"

She raised her voice, her superior's annoyance overflowing from the receiver: "Can you stop acting like a child? Do you think this clumsy excuse of feigning illness will change anything in the end?"

When I was about to die, she thought I was faking illness to win her favor.

"A child who hasn't grown up? Throwing a tantrum?" Instead of getting angry, I laughed. My voice, hoarse from a high fever, carried a piercing sense of oppression and mockery.

“Valentina, have you forgotten? Your ‘obedient subordinate’ who needs you to stroke his hair and kiss him like a pet in the Maybach in the underground garage is already twenty-eight years old this year.”

The other end of the phone fell into dead silence.

“He’s only two years younger than me, this ‘child who hasn’t grown up’.” Without any hesitation, I delivered the final blow with cold indifference.

"You were following me?!" Valentina's voice finally cracked with panic, as if her haughty facade had been stripped away in public, leaving her furious and embarrassed.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. The noise you two made in the garage was too loud; I just happened to be passing by.” I leaned back, no longer wanting to hear any of her feeble excuses. “Valentina, stop calling me like this. I’ve seen through your pathetic act.”

“Adrian, let me explain. He just had a sudden flare-up of old pain in the garage that day…”

"Whatever." I interrupted her curtly, as if sentencing a stranger who was insignificant. "I have no expectations of you anymore. You can use whoever you want to promote, whoever you want to use as an excuse, it's up to you."

I hung up the phone immediately.

The stabbing pain in my chest intensified again; it was the punishment mechanism that had deviated from the program tearing at my nerves.

[System notification: Target individual's emotional state has been detected to be drastically fluctuating.]

The system's voice echoed softly in his mind: "Host, you're still under the protection of the world's rules. If you don't choose the path of certain death, why not try harder to win her over? Or simply expose Antonio's falsification of the medical records?"

I looked down at my left hand, the one I had lost a finger to save her, which now had turned a deathly gray color due to the backlash from being deprived of the program.

"No." I closed my eyes, concealing the absolute killing intent and indifference within them.

"I'll let her come and take my life herself."