Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hector kept swinging, rain hammering down as his cane slammed into her legs.

Thuds. Screams. They echoed off the mansion walls.

Her blue jeans turned crimson, blood spreading fast.

Rain rinsed her torn skin, made it pale—then the bleeding started all over again.

By the time it stopped, she couldn't scream anymore. Her legs were dead weight.

Even with the rain, her body still jerked from the pain.

Esteban and the bodyguards? They couldn't even watch.

Hector dropped the cane. "Lock her in the basement. No sunlight till Charlotte walks again."

Tiffany didn't panic.

She never even woke up.

First came the cold sweats. Then fever. Then seizures.

Eventually, she couldn't feel her legs at all.

Time blurred. The basement was just shadows and pain.

The door creaked open sometimes—probably Esteban with meds.

She couldn't tell. Had no clue how long she'd been down there.

Just pain. Then blackout.

Again and again—until someone hauled her into a car.

Tiffany's eyes fluttered open.

Esteban.

"Poor kid... you've got your whole life ahead of you. If your legs are shot, that's it."

"...Esteban."

"Shh. Don't talk. Today's Hector's wedding—no one's watching the house. I've already talked to the driver. He's taking you to the hospital."

He slipped a small bag into her hands. "Your IDs are inside. If you don't wanna come back... don't."

Tears blurred her vision.

Two lifetimes consumed by anguish —and the one who saved her was the quiet butler who'd barely said a word.

The black sedan vanished down the mountain.

Esteban watched the car disappear, then turned back to the mansion.

He had no idea what Hector would do when he found out.

Didn't matter. He couldn't watch that girl suffer anymore.

He was old. Almost out of time.

But Tiffany? She was still just a kid. Her story couldn't end like this.

Even Hector—he was young too. Maybe there was still time for him not to drown in regret.

Tiffany didn't know any of that.

She never went to the hospital.

She told the driver to take her to campus.

It was Hector's wedding day—and the deadline for the volunteer teaching program.

Her last shot. She had to make it.

But by the time she dragged her shattered legs out of the car, it was over.

The bus was gone.

And Hector had already taken her off the list.

First, it was the heart transplant. Now this.

For the second time in two lives, Tiffany felt what real despair tasted like.

The driver took her to the hospital.

While he handled the paperwork—she vanished.

Twenty minutes later, she hit the rooftop.

The northern wind howled.

From the twenty-eighth floor, Westvale stretched forever.

She leaned on the railing, eyes heavy with sorrow.

Such a gorgeous city. Roads went everywhere.

And for her? It'd been a cage. Twice.

Enough.

She'd already died once.

What could top getting her heart ripped out? Her legs crushed?

Tiffany shut her eyes, ready to let go—

Then a voice behind her:

"Taffy, let me take you away."

That name...

She spun around.

"It's been five years. Do you still remember me?"