Blood-red script on ancient parchment branded the Sinclair curse: "Wed a commoner, court death." I, Westbrook's spoiled princess, mocked the warnings-until Lucas Montgomery appeared.

I signed away my birthright without hesitation. In the ancestral hall, I knelt for nine days and nights. Blood from my raw knees seeped into the ancient stone.​

Ninety-nine lashes of the family whip rained down on my back. Yet, as I faced him through a haze of agony, a smile split my bloody lips.

"Lucas," I gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "I'd endure a thousand more to be yours."

The Sinclair elders' laughter echoed like venom in the cold hall.

"You may flee with your mongrel," the matriarch sneered "but first, you'll bear a Sinclair heir-a pure - blooded son sired by the man we choose. ."

From then on, the most frequent words I said to Lucas Montgomery were - "Wait."

The first time, I asked him to wait while I had a child with another man.

I slept with Julian Whitmore thirty-nine times, until I was pregnant with his child.

The second time, I told him to wait again, because the baby was a girl, and the Sinclair family wanted a son.

So, I slept with Julian Whitmore ninety-nine times, until I became pregnant again.

But just when I thought everything was about to settle down, my daughter, who had just had her hundred-day celebration with Julian Whitmore, suddenly fell into a high fever and began vomiting blood. Everyone believed it was Lucas Montgomery who had harmed her.

Julian Whitmore bull, locking his hands around Lucas's throat. "Come for me!" he roared, spittle flying. "How could you harm a child?" Lucas, purple - faced, gasped protests, eyes wide with terror.​

My parents, twisted with rage, lunged like demons. "Our Sinclair heir!" Mother shrieked. "You'll die for this!" Father's shaking fists promised violence.

He was stripped of his clothes and thrown into a cold storage. I stood outside the door. Through the frosted glass, I saw him curled up, trembling, his eyes ful of despair.

I stood outside, my hands trembling uncontrollably, but in the end, I gritted my teeth and spoke: "I said, wait. why hurt my child?"

What a "my child."

I braceleted as Lucas Montgomery bent down in pain, as if his heart was being ripped out. His hollow eyes stared at me, as though he was on the verge of collapsing.

But had he forgotten?

I once knelt in the rain and swore: "Lucas, in this life, I will only have you as my husband."

I'd whispered promises against his chest, breathless after our trysts.

"Only our child will own my heart," I'd sworn, lips lingering on his fingers. "Soon, just us against the world."​

Now. Lucas, his eyes shattered glass, braceleted as I clutched another man's heir.

When the cold storage door opened again, Lucas Montgomery's frozen fingers were tightly clenched in his palms. He didn't look at me.

At that moment, he didn't wait anymore.

He dialed the Sinclair family's old house phone.

"Cut clean," Lucas's voice sliced through the receiver, cold as steel. "Send me to the ends of the earth-anywhere she'll never reach."​

A chilling laugh crackled from my mother. "Took you long enough," she sneered, venom dripping from each word. "A glorified clerk dreaming of Sinclairs? The freezer taught you well. Now crawl back to your gutter where you belong."​

My father snorted disdainfully: "In half a month, we'll arrange everything. From then on, never appear in front of Sophia."

After the call ended, Lucas Montgomery stood at the gate of the villa, his fingers still trembling.

And I, was teasing my daughter, with Julian Whitmore beside me, smiling gently and warmly.

Lucas Montgomery stood there, braceleting us, his expression as cold as an ice cave.

"Mr. Montgomery's back?" Julian Whitmore was the first to notice him and immediately sat up straight, the smile on his face fading slightly.

I almost reflexively handed the child to the servant: "Take her upstairs."

I was afraid he would hurt my child.

The words "our child" now tasted like ash on my tongue.

I stood between him and the stairs, a human shield against the Sinclairs' fury.

But Lucas looked at me as if I were the monste.​

As soon as the nursemaid disappeared with the wailing infant, I lunged forward, fingers grazing his bruised wrist. "Lucas, the cold storage-"​

He flinched back like I'd burned him, eyes dark with betrayal. "Don't touch me." His voice was a blade.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. "They'd have killed you last night! This is our only way out. Besides, the child is innocent, why must you-"​

"I said it wasn't me!" He suddenly reddened his eyes, shouting in agony.

I froze for a moment, instinctively softening my tone: "Alright, alright, it's not important anymore."

But in his eyes, there was only deeper pain.

I knew, he heard my meaning - I still didn't believe him.

Julian Whitmore saw the tension and walked over, apologetically saying: "Mr. Montgomery, I apologize as well. I was too hasty at that time. You don't have children, so you might not understand a father's feelings."

He raised his hand to comb his hair, the bracelet on his wrist gleaming under the light.

Lucas Montgomery's eyes changed drastically, and he grabbed his wrist: "Where did you get that bracelet?"

"Julian likes it, so I gave it to him," I pulled his hand away, "Consider it my apology to her."

"It's my mother's heirloom!" His voice trembled, "How could you give it away, you know how important it is to me!"

He rushed over, trying to grab it back, but Julian Whitmore suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his leg in pain.

"Ah. my leg."

Blood-red script on ancient parchment branded the Sinclair curse: "Wed a commoner, court death." I, Westbrook's spoiled princess, mocked the warnings-until Lucas Montgomery appeared.

I signed away my birthright without hesitation. In the ancestral hall, I knelt for nine days and nights. Blood from my raw knees seeped into the ancient stone.​

Ninety-nine lashes of the family whip rained down on my back. Yet, as I faced him through a haze of agony, a smile split my bloody lips.

"Lucas," I gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "I'd endure a thousand more to be yours."

The Sinclair elders' laughter echoed like venom in the cold hall.

"You may flee with your mongrel," the matriarch sneered "but first, you'll bear a Sinclair heir-a pure - blooded son sired by the man we choose. ."

From then on, the most frequent words I said to Lucas Montgomery were - "Wait."

The first time, I asked him to wait while I had a child with another man.

I slept with Julian Whitmore thirty-nine times, until I was pregnant with his child.

The second time, I told him to wait again, because the baby was a girl, and the Sinclair family wanted a son.

So, I slept with Julian Whitmore ninety-nine times, until I became pregnant again.

But just when I thought everything was about to settle down, my daughter, who had just had her hundred-day celebration with Julian Whitmore, suddenly fell into a high fever and began vomiting blood. Everyone believed it was Lucas Montgomery who had harmed her.

Julian Whitmore bull, locking his hands around Lucas's throat. "Come for me!" he roared, spittle flying. "How could you harm a child?" Lucas, purple - faced, gasped protests, eyes wide with terror.​

My parents, twisted with rage, lunged like demons. "Our Sinclair heir!" Mother shrieked. "You'll die for this!" Father's shaking fists promised violence.

He was stripped of his clothes and thrown into a cold storage. I stood outside the door. Through the frosted glass, I saw him curled up, trembling, his eyes ful of despair.

I stood outside, my hands trembling uncontrollably, but in the end, I gritted my teeth and spoke: "I said, wait. why hurt my child?"

What a "my child."

I braceleted as Lucas Montgomery bent down in pain, as if his heart was being ripped out. His hollow eyes stared at me, as though he was on the verge of collapsing.

But had he forgotten?

I once knelt in the rain and swore: "Lucas, in this life, I will only have you as my husband."

I'd whispered promises against his chest, breathless after our trysts.

"Only our child will own my heart," I'd sworn, lips lingering on his fingers. "Soon, just us against the world."​

Now. Lucas, his eyes shattered glass, braceleted as I clutched another man's heir.

When the cold storage door opened again, Lucas Montgomery's frozen fingers were tightly clenched in his palms. He didn't look at me.

At that moment, he didn't wait anymore.

He dialed the Sinclair family's old house phone.

"Cut clean," Lucas's voice sliced through the receiver, cold as steel. "Send me to the ends of the earth-anywhere she'll never reach."​

A chilling laugh crackled from my mother. "Took you long enough," she sneered, venom dripping from each word. "A glorified clerk dreaming of Sinclairs? The freezer taught you well. Now crawl back to your gutter where you belong."​

My father snorted disdainfully: "In half a month, we'll arrange everything. From then on, never appear in front of Sophia."

After the call ended, Lucas Montgomery stood at the gate of the villa, his fingers still trembling.

And I, was teasing my daughter, with Julian Whitmore beside me, smiling gently and warmly.

Lucas Montgomery stood there, braceleting us, his expression as cold as an ice cave.

"Mr. Montgomery's back?" Julian Whitmore was the first to notice him and immediately sat up straight, the smile on his face fading slightly.

I almost reflexively handed the child to the servant: "Take her upstairs."

I was afraid he would hurt my child.

The words "our child" now tasted like ash on my tongue.

I stood between him and the stairs, a human shield against the Sinclairs' fury.

But Lucas looked at me as if I were the monste.​

As soon as the nursemaid disappeared with the wailing infant, I lunged forward, fingers grazing his bruised wrist. "Lucas, the cold storage-"​

He flinched back like I'd burned him, eyes dark with betrayal. "Don't touch me." His voice was a blade.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. "They'd have killed you last night! This is our only way out. Besides, the child is innocent, why must you-"​

"I said it wasn't me!" He suddenly reddened his eyes, shouting in agony.

I froze for a moment, instinctively softening my tone: "Alright, alright, it's not important anymore."

But in his eyes, there was only deeper pain.

I knew, he heard my meaning - I still didn't believe him.

Julian Whitmore saw the tension and walked over, apologetically saying: "Mr. Montgomery, I apologize as well. I was too hasty at that time. You don't have children, so you might not understand a father's feelings."

He raised his hand to comb his hair, the bracelet on his wrist gleaming under the light.

Lucas Montgomery's eyes changed drastically, and he grabbed his wrist: "Where did you get that bracelet?"

"Julian likes it, so I gave it to him," I pulled his hand away, "Consider it my apology to her."

"It's my mother's heirloom!" His voice trembled, "How could you give it away, you know how important it is to me!"

He rushed over, trying to grab it back, but Julian Whitmore suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his leg in pain.

"Ah. my leg."

"Lucas Montgomery!" I instinctively pushed him away, my anger flaring, "He didn't do anything wrong, haven't you had enough?!"

My shove sent him flying across the room, his body crashing into the sharp edge of the able with a sickening crack. His forehead met the wood, and in an instant, a geyser of blood erupted, painting the pristine white carpet a grotesque shade of crimson.​

Lucas crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented, blood streaming down his face, mixing with the tears that welled up in his eyes.

But I didn't look back, just holding Julian Whitmore, urgently rushing to the hospital.

His trembling blood - stained fingers hovering above my forehead. "Sophia." he whispered, voice hoarse and laced with pain, "I'm fine. Don't blame him."​

I dropped to my knees beside him, the sticky warmth of his blood seeping through my silk gown. Cradling his face in my hands, I stared into his fading eyes. "You're the father of my child," I hissed, "You're the one who holds my heart, and I'll burn this entire manor to the ground before I let them lay another finger on you."​

His lips twitched into a weak smile, blood dribbling down his chin. "Our...our little one..." he managed to choke out.​

"Our child is safe," I cut in, pressing a fierce kiss to his bloodied lips. "And you will be too. I swear it on my life."

As I rushed out of the villa with Julian, I caught a glimpse of Lucas still slumped on the ground, the blood from the back of his head trickling down his neck.

But I didn't dare look back.

He was a in a threadbare shirt, an otherworldly glow haloing his cold, aloof form behind the convenience store counter. The moment I laid eyes on him, time stood still. I lingered outside for two torturous hours, entranced by his enigmatic presence.​

Then, I strode in, black card extended like a gauntlet. "Leave this life behind," I commanded, voice dripping with desperate yearning. "With me, you'll never have to touch a price tag again."

In a swift movement, he slapped the glossy black card back onto the counter.

It skidded across the scratched surface, hitting the register with a sharp clack.

"Keep your charity, miss," he spat, voice laced with disdain.

"My calloused hands may ring up your snacks, but they're cleaner than whatever strings you'd attach to that card. I earn my bread honestly, and I'll die before selling my dignity."​

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows across his angular face.

After a long, charged moment, I retrieved a pristine business card from my purse, the embossed gold lettering catching the light.

"Sophia Sinclair," I declared, my tone matching his defiance.

I dropped the card next to his cracked name tag that read "Lucas".

"Tomorrow, I will be here again."

He didn't take it seriously. But the next day, I arrived in a Lamborghini Aventador as promised, standing in that noisy, chaotic convenience store like a joke, out of place.

To chase him, I did many things that even I found unbelievable-

When he rejected my confession, I had people hang banners outside the convenience store every day;

When he avoided me, I walked through the crowd on foot;

When he said we were from different worlds, I worked alongside him.

For nine whole months, I stood outside his convenience store, once, twice, nine times. until he finally started to care.

He agreed to be with me because I took the acid thrown by a competing store on his behalf, and to this day, there's still a huge, ugly scar on my back. I was in so much pain that I sweated cold, but I still gritted my teeth and said to him, "Lucas, remember, you owe me a life, and you'll repay it for the rest of your life."

That day, he cried. It was the first time I saw him cry, his hot tears falling into my palm.