Chapter 3

A sharp, dull pain shot through my chest. I had to press down on the IV tube and gasp for air.

"What's wrong, Amelia?"

Ryan had somehow made it to the hospital. He rushed to my bedside, those eyes that usually terrified people now filled with worry. "Does the wound hurt? I'll get the doctor right now."

Before I could speak, Susan cut in: "Still putting on this whole victim act, Amelia? Don't push yourself. Ryan only came because you're injured. Men's patience with fragile dolls is always limited."

"Smack—!"

A crisp slap echoed through the room, plunging it into instant silence.

Ryan's hand was still suspended in mid-air. The force was so strong, even I was startled.

"Get out." Ryan's voice carried a chilling coldness. "If I hear you say one more word to her, I'll rip out your tongue."

Susan covered her face, a flash of venomous disbelief in her eyes. But she knew Ryan's temper too well. She didn't argue back. Her eyes just instantly reddened, her body swayed, and she clutched her stomach as if enduring tremendous pain, stumbling out of the room.

Ryan took a deep breath and turned to comfort me: "Amelia, don't pay attention to that crazy woman..."

"I need to use the bathroom." I coldly interrupted him, pulling my hand away from his grip.

Ryan froze, hurt flashing in his eyes, but he still nodded: "Okay, be careful."

As I left the room and passed the corner of the hallway, Susan, who had just looked so pitiful was now leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

She covered her swollen red cheek, but her lips curved into a malicious smile.

"You really think that slap means something?" She lowered her voice like a hissing snake. "Ryan just acted on impulse. Believe it or not, all I have to do is ask, and I can take away what you treasure most."

I looked at her, expressionless.

"I heard he gave you an estate in Provence," Susan said, stepping closer, her eyes full of greed. "How about we make a little bet? Do you think he'll let you keep the estate, or will he end up giving it to me?"

I didn't answer, just walked past her.

There was no need to answer, because I already knew the result.

When I returned to the room, Ryan was on the phone, his face pale with panic.

After hanging up, he rushed to my side and hastily kissed my forehead. "Honey, there's an emergency at the company. I'll be right back, okay?"

I grabbed his sleeve, my knuckles white: "But you promised you'd stay with me all night. Please, Ryan... don't go."

Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, hesitation, maybe even fear.

He looked at me as if he knew that taking this step would cost him something.

But then he said softly: "I'll definitely come back tonight. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

Half an hour later, my phone vibrated.

A message from Susan.

A video.

I pressed play, my hands eerily steady from extreme calmness.

The video wasn't shot at the company, but in the VIP lounge downstairs at the hospital.

Ryan was sitting on the sofa, holding an ice pack, carefully pressing it against Susan's swollen cheek.

Susan's tearful voice came through the recording:

"Ryan, I don't blame you for hitting me... but my stomach hurts so much. The doctor said the environment here is too stressful, it's bad for the baby."

Ryan frowned, his voice somewhat tired: "Where do you want to go?"

"I heard... Amelia has an estate in Provence." Susan lifted her head, tears falling at just the right moment. "The air is good there. I want to go there for the pregnancy. Let me stay at that estate for a while, okay? For our child."

Ryan's hand froze.

"That's for Amelia." His voice was hesitant. "That's the place we agreed to retire to."

"Just for a little while..." Susan grabbed his hand and placed it on her rounded belly. "Do you want to see your child suffer before it's even born? Amelia can have other houses later, but the baby only has this one chance."

A moment of silence.

Then—Ryan nodded.

"Fine." He said quietly. "I'll have someone transfer the deed to you. If you like it, keep it. I'll buy her something else."

At the end of the video, Susan looked straight at the camera, wearing that familiar cruel smile, and mouthed:

"See? You lost."

I sat on the hospital bed in a daze as the phone screen gradually dimmed.

Every kindness he gave me pierced like glass.

That estate held all our dreams for the future. It was the place he said we'd grow old together.

Now, it had become a bargaining chip to appease another woman.

Everything he did for me, he could do for her too. And for her sake, he could sacrifice me without hesitation.

Fortunately...

Tomorrow, I would leave. Leave forever.

That night, when Ryan came back, he found me already lying in bed.

He lay beside me, holding me tighter, his breath on my neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered. "Even though it was just a few hours, it felt like years. If you left me, I don't know if I could survive."

"...Really?" I murmured with my eyes closed.

He kissed my shoulder. "Oh, about that estate—I heard the weather out there hasn't been great lately. It's not the best place to live right now. So I had someone find us a better place in Switzerland. We'll go there together someday, okay?"

I smiled faintly into the darkness, my heart dead as ash. "Whatever you want."

The next morning, he made me breakfast before work.

Before he left, I handed him a sealed envelope.

"This is for you," I said softly. "But you must wait two days before opening it. It's a surprise for you."

Inside were two things:

My real pregnancy report.

And the video Susan had sent me.

When he learned that my car had crashed off the elevated highway—

He would open it.

He would finally understand that he had personally handed the knife to Susan, killing the woman he claimed he couldn't live without.

After Ryan left, Samantha came in.

"The car is ready. The route has been cleared."

I pulled out the IV needle and changed into that black trench coat.

The car left the hospital and sped toward the coastal highway.

Halfway there, my phone vibrated again.

A message from Susan.

[Hilton Hotel, penthouse. He's there. Don't you want to see the final performance?]

Even though I knew what I would see, I still went.

.

Consider it one last look before goodbye.

In the banquet hall, Susan was surrounded like a star.

The servers respectfully addressed her as "Ryan's fiancée."

Ryan didn't correct them.

He just smiled at her—that gentle, familiar smile that once belonged to me.

Even his mother said proudly, "If it weren't for Susan, we would have no heir to continue the ritual offerings. Ryan, promise me you'll take good care of her."

He laughed easily, raising his glass. "When have I ever treated her poorly? Whatever Amelia had, she'll have more."

That was the final straw that broke the camel's back.

No need for forgiveness anymore.

As I turned to leave, I looked back one last time.

He was smiling, one arm draped over her shoulder, basking in false happiness.

I whispered, "Goodbye, Ryan. Goodbye forever."

Half an hour later.

Ryan was accepting congratulations, when his private phone started vibrating frantically.

It was Samantha calling.

"Mr. Morrison..." Samantha's voice trembled, barely audible. "Mrs. Morrison's car encountered an out-of-control truck on Sierra Highway..."

"There was a violent explosion, and it plunged into the deep sea."

"No survivors."

The wine glass slipped from Ryan's hand, red wine spilling onto the carpet like a pool of shocking blood.

"What... did you say?"