Halfway through the celebration, I excused myself to the restroom, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection, face pale, eyes hollow.

The woman in the mirror felt like a stranger. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face again and again, trying to force myself awake.

That was when the restroom door was kicked open from the outside.

The loud bang made me flinch.

I turned and saw the last person I expected.

It was Leland. He still wore that same careless, devil-may-care expression, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

But his eyes were razor-sharp, dangerous in a way that made my chest tighten.

Behind him stood a group of men in black suits, their faces cold and hostile.

The entire backstage area fell into dead silence.

Leland's gaze swept across the room before locking onto me.

He strode toward me.

His eyes moved slowly, from my face, down my arm, until they stopped on my right hand, wrapped thickly in bandages.

The smirk vanished in an instant. What replaced it was pure, uncontrollable fury.

I watched as the rims of his eyes—eyes that were always smiling—slowly reddened.

His body trembled, just slightly.

"Who did this?" he asked in a low voice, yet it carried the weight of a coming storm.

People around us instinctively backed away.

Before I could say a word, Ian's bodyguards rushed in, forming a wall.

"Mr. Riley," one of them said warily, "this is Mr. Wade's venue. What do you think you're doing?"

Leland didn't even glance at them.

He lifted his leg and kicked the nearest bodyguard straight in the stomach.

The man, well over six feet tall, was sent flying like a sandbag, slamming into the wall with a dull thud.

"I asked you, who did this!" Leland said again, his voice trembling with pain as he looked at me.

He reached out, hesitating, his hand hovering inches from my injured wrist, as if he were afraid that even the slightest touch might hurt me.

The way he looked at me was careful, reverent. As if I were something rare and irreplaceable, a treasure he had just fought his way to reclaim.

My nose burned. I almost cried.

"Well done, Ian," Leland suddenly laughed, though the sound was colder than ice. "The trash you threw away? To me, she's priceless."

Ian's face darkened the moment he saw Leland.

"Leland, have you lost your mind?" he snapped.

The fire in Leland's eyes only burned hotter.

"Ian, screw you!" Leland shouted as he lunged forward, grabbing Ian by the collar. "Are you even human?!"

His fist came down hard against Ian's face, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

The room erupted. Jemma screamed as both sides lunged at each other, the crash of shattered glass and startled cries filling the air.

The entire banquet hall spiraled completely out of control.

Leland was usually careless, always wearing that lazy, half-smiling air.

I had never known this side of him, the one that emerged when he was truly angry.

My heart took a hard hit in that moment.

So this was what it felt like to be placed at the very center of someone's concern.

Ian wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his gaze dark as it locked onto Leland.

"This is between Margot and me. It has nothing to do with you," he said coldly.

"Nothing to do with me?" Leland laughed. "Ian, you ran off in the middle of your wedding. She ended up with me. And you're telling me it's none of my business? She's mine now. You lay a finger on her, and I'll take one of your hands."

His aura flared, every bit as oppressive as Ian's.

In that instant, the true dominance of Crownport's golden heir was on full display.

Ian's expression darkened further.

He clearly hadn't expected Leland to care this much about a so-called substitute bride.

"Come with me," Leland said, ignoring Ian completely. He grabbed my left hand and turned to leave.

"Stop!" Ian's voice rang out from behind us, edged with desperation and madness. "Margot, take one more step and see what happens."

I froze. But I didn't turn around.

"You should think carefully. The moment you walk out that door, the hospital will lose power. This time, it won't just be a blackout," he added.

Then he leaned in close, his words meant for my ears alone, "I'll have them pull your mother's tubes and dump her onto the street."

My feet felt nailed to the floor.

Leland's hand stalled in midair. Ian smiled, triumphant, vile.

He stepped in front of me, tearing away the last trace of false tenderness.

"Margot, I'll give you one last chance. Either you come back with me—"

He leaned close again, his voice a whisper only I could hear, "Or I make the call right now."

He raised his phone, his finger hovering over the screen. "Stop the meds. Pull the tubes. Toss that trash out."

His smile was cruel. "At this temperature, she won't last two hours."

I stared at the face inches from mine, the face I had once loved to the bone.

Now, there was nothing left but ugliness.

Then I looked at Leland. His entire body was shaking with rage, his eyes so red they looked ready to bleed.

I couldn't drag him down with me.

If the Wade family pulled strings and pinned some charge on him, abducting a mentally unstable patient, it would turn ugly fast.

I couldn't let him be stained because of me.

I took a deep breath and, summoning every ounce of strength I had, pushed Leland's hand away.

"Mr. Riley," I said.

I met his eyes, forcing my voice to stay calm and distant.

"Thank you, but this is my problem. Don't get involved."

He froze.

He looked at me, hurt and confusion flooding his eyes.

"Margot, do you even hear yourself? He'll destroy you."

"Then that's my fate."

I turned away before he could say anything else.

If I looked at him for even one more second, the armor I had so carefully built would shatter.

Step by step, I walked back to Ian.

I could feel that burning, aching gaze on my back the entire time.

It followed me out of the banquet hall. All the way until I got into Ian's car.

The door slammed shut. And only then did the tears finally fall.

"I'm sorry, Leland. Forgive my cowardice."

After we returned from the celebration banquet, it was as if I had become a different person.

I didn't cry. I didn't protest. And I no longer resisted with silence.

When Ian told me to eat, I ate.

When he told me to take my medicine, I took it. When he spoke to me, I answered.

My replies were always the same. "Okay." "That's fine." "No problem."

I became impossibly obedient, docile, well-behaved. Ian seemed pleased with the change.

He believed Leland's sudden appearance, and that threat involving the psychiatric ward, had finally forced me to face reality.

He believed I had been completely tamed. And he let his guard down.

There was even more warmth on his face these days.

He started acting like a proper husband, concerned about my daily routine.

He remembered what I liked to eat, what I didn't. He told me stories before bed.

When he caught me staring out the window, he would wrap his arms around me from behind and ask what I was thinking.

I would only smile and say nothing. I was thinking that if, in my previous life, he had shown even half this patience and gentleness, maybe I wouldn't have died so miserably.

But there were no ifs.

That day was Jemma's birthday. Ian threw her an extravagantly lavish party right here, in the very villa we lived in.

Before the banquet, he came into my room holding a velvet box.

"Margot, this is for you," he said gently.

I opened it. Inside was a diamond bracelet, glittering under the lights.

"Do you like it?"

"I do."

I nodded.

"Tonight, play a piano piece for me, ok?" he said, watching me closely, expectation flickering in his eyes. "Just like the first time we met."

My gaze dropped to my right hand, still wrapped in thick bandages. I smiled.

Playing the piano with a ruined hand.

It was humiliation. And a public declaration of ownership.

He wanted the world to see that even after he destroyed what she cherished most, she still wags her tail for him.

"Sure," I said, my smile widening. Ian froze for a split second, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily.

He was delighted. He bent down and kissed my forehead.

"Margot, I knew you'd be good."

I looked up at him and smiled.

"Ian, Thank you," I said.

Thank you for finally giving my weakness back to me.

Thank you for leaving me with nothing left to lose.

And thank you for preparing such a grand funeral.

Late at night, the rain poured down in sheets.

Outside the window, the shadows of the trees thrashed wildly in the wind.

I curled up in the corner of the bed, hugging my knees. The searing pain in my wrist kept me wide awake.

Suddenly, a faint, dull thud came from the balcony.

Before I could react, a dark figure, carrying the chill of rain, forced the lock on the floor-to-ceiling window open.

"Who—?" I gasped, panic surging.

A scorching hand clamped over my mouth.

"Shh. It's me."

The familiar voice was tight with restrained breathing.

It was Leland. He was drenched, water dripping down the sharp line of his jaw, his eyes bloodshot.

"What are you doing here?!" I shoved him away, lowering my voice, my whole body trembling. "There are cameras everywhere! Ian will kill you! Get out, now!"

"The surveillance is down."

He didn't move. Instead, he grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to look at him.

"Margot. Listen to me," he said as he pulled out a SIM card and pressed it into my icy left palm. "Three days from now. Jemma's birthday banquet. I'll have my people extract your mother. As soon as we succeed, you won't have any weaknesses left."

My pupils shrank.

"Really?"

"I swear it on my life."

He wiped the tears from my face, his gaze turning ruthless and unyielding.

"That day, do whatever you want. If you want blood, take blood. If you want fire, burn everything. Whatever happens, I've got you."

I watched his silhouette disappear into the rain-soaked night, my fingers tightening around the SIM card.

The fear inside me faded. In its place rose an absolute resolve I had never felt before.

This time, I was going to win.