For three years, I worked undercover to infiltrate the Golden Triangle’s largest drug cartel. In the end, coordinating with the police, we brought it down in one fell swoop.

During that operation, I took three bullets. I almost died on the operating table.

Yet, I kept thinking of Nathan, waiting for me—and forced myself to hold on.

I retired.

Covered in scars but fueled by hope, I returned to him.

But what awaited me wasn’t the wedding he’d promised. It was his apology.

“Kimberly,” he said, his voice strained. “Nathan’s Group is facing an unprecedented crisis. I need to marry into the Ariana family to survive this.”

The Ariana family—Ariana’s family.

Back then, Ariana had just appeared by his side, introduced as a family friend’s daughter. She always wore white dresses, spoke in a soft, gentle voice, and gazed at me with admiring eyes.

“Kimberly,” she’d say, “you’re so amazing. Just like a movie heroine.”

I thought she was just an innocent, sweet girl.

I told Nathan, “I don’t need any titles. I just need you by my side.”

Touched, he held me close. “Kimberly, don’t worry. This marriage is just business. You’re the only one I love. I’m sorry to put you through this. Once I’ve sorted out all this trouble, I’ll give you the grandest wedding you can imagine.”

I believed him again. I naively believed love was enough.

But I forgot: people change.

Now, his bodyguard was lifting my mother’s urn.

My father scrambled over, clinging to the man’s leg like a madman. “No! Please! Don’t!”

The bodyguard kicked him away.

With a sickening thud, my father’s aged body was thrown against the sharp corner of the coffee table. He went still.

Then the rosewood urn was lifted high and smashed onto the floor with brutal force.

*Crack!*

A sharp, brittle sound.

The box shattered, scattering white ashes mixed with black cinders across the floor.