That birthday party was the worst event of my life.

Gus strolled into the grand hall with Joanna by his side, her white dress flowing elegantly around her. He announced loudly, "Genevieve, let's break off our engagement. I've found someone I truly love."

I stood there frozen, utterly dumbfounded.

All of my parents' business associates were present, there to celebrate me. Knowing I was a fake heiress, they had thrown this extravagant party to prove that, despite not being their biological daughter, my parents still cared for me and that my status would remain unchanged.

But Gus had shattered all of that.

Under the glaring lights, whispers and snickers surrounded me like a swarm.

"After all, she's just a phony. So what if the Clarks acknowledge her? The Hardings don't."

"I think the Clarks went all out for this birthday bash just to silence the critics. They didn't want to be labeled as cold-hearted for rejecting their daughter after raising her for twenty-two years."

"There's no real affection there."

"I think we should butter up the true heiress instead."

I wished I could bury my head in the ground.

How had things developed so far out of control?

I couldn't recall how the chaotic scene had concluded. I only remembered that from that day on, Gus's attitude toward me had completely changed.

"You're not even a real Clark. What right do you have to ask me to honor our engagement?"

I managed a hollow smile. The signs had been there all along.

That night, the system had asked if I wanted to abandon my pursuit.

If I quit, I could return to my original world, but without a healthy body—terminally ill with cancer, destined to die at any moment.

I refused.

Not only because the system promised that succeeding in my pursuit would grant me a healthy body, but more importantly, because I had already lost my heart in this game of love disguised as a mission.

Yes, I loved Gus deeply.

But right now, the pain was overwhelming. It hurt so much that I didn't want to love him anymore.

With that thought, my body felt lighter. I floated in midair and saw a sports car speeding toward me, pulling over on the shoulder.

Suzie jumped out and rushed over, panic in her eyes as she reached my side.

When she saw me, covered in blood, she completely lost control. She shook my body desperately, shouting for me to wake up.

But I was motionless, my eyes forever closed.

Suzie cried until she was nearly breathless, yet she managed to summon the strength to take me to the hospital.

Now, she was the only thing I couldn't bear to let go of.

The doctor quickly declared me dead, not even attempting to revive me.

I couldn't bear to see her so heartbroken, so I drifted away, only to find myself next to Gus.

His head was bleeding, but he still held Joanna tightly in one arm while brandishing a steel pipe to fend off a group of thugs.

I had never let him get hurt before; I always stood in front of him, protecting him.

Now, standing on the sidelines, I finally realized that it was the one being protected who received all the love.

"Genevieve, you're amazing! You can take on ten men all by yourself."

At that moment, my heart swelled with pride at the compliment, forgetting that he had never cared about me getting hurt.

As the dozen or so thugs charged, Gus found himself surrounded, but even then, he made sure not to let Joanna come to harm.

In the end, he managed to drive the thugs away.

Joanna emerged from behind Gus like a little rabbit, her face shining with admiration as she cupped his face in her hands.

"Gus, you're so incredibly cool! I feel safe when I'm with you."

Joanna would always be like this—completely helpless, relying on Gus, and then gazing at him with adoration, praising him for his bravery.

Under this onslaught of attention, Gus gradually started to crumble.

But this time, he didn't gently ruffle Joanna's hair as he used to.

He simply stood there, silently staring at his own wounds.

After dropping Joanna off at her place, Gus firmly rejected her hints about staying the night.

That was unusual for him.

In the past, when Gus and I traveled to the neighboring city to meet clients, it took us five hours by car. Even if we wrapped up at 1:00 AM, he would stubbornly insist on returning home to Joanna. "Every time I go on business trips with you, Joanna won't be able to sleep if I don't go back," he would say.

Gus kept his eyes downcast. His face was shadowed by the darkness of the car, making it impossible for me to read his expression. The atmosphere in the vehicle was heavy and stifling.

Finally, the driver broke the silence. "Mr. Harding, should we head to the hospital?"

It was then that Gus realized something was off. In this latest fight, I hadn't rushed to his side to protect him, nor had I tenderly cleaned his wounds.

He shook his head, his reply succinct. "Take me to Genevieve's."

Indeed, it seemed that only when he needed something did Gus remember I existed.

As a child, he was a troublemaker, often daydreaming of being a hero. While he picked fights and stirred up trouble, he also ended up getting hurt more times than I could count. I was always there to patch him up; my house even had a cabinet full of ointments and bandages.

My home was enveloped in darkness, with not a single light on.

Yet Gus merely mumbled, "Why has Genevieve gone to bed so early?"

He first pressed the ordinary doorbell, but there was no response. Frowning slightly, Gus's impatience grew. He walked to the side and pressed his special doorbell.

Once, I had excitedly told him I'd created a personalized doorbell just for him. "This doorbell is known only to you. As soon as it rings, I'll be there to open the door, no matter where I am."

But now, that special doorbell rang and rang, yet the one he expected to see never appeared.

Finally, Gus lost his patience. He raised his voice, shouting up to my room, "Genevieve, don't mess with me!"

But upstairs, it remained dark and silent.

I drifted into my familiar room, but my gaze fell upon the cheap gifts Gus had given me over the years. A piece of gum, a common stuffed animal, even a pen and notebook he had once used. Anything he had ever given me, I had accepted without question.

I wanted to float over and toss them out, but my body passed right through the table.

Could I somehow appear in Suzie's dream, asking her to help me get rid of this clutter? Even in death, I didn't want those reminders lingering in my space.

As I wallowed in my thoughts, Gus had reached the end of his patience and was yelling downstairs.

That was expected; he had never been known for his patience with me.

He knew that no matter how he treated me, I would greet him with a smile the next day and draw close again.

After exhausting his energy shouting, Gus tried calling me. "Sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable at the moment…"

My phone broke in the crash, so it was impossible to reach me now.

He texted me instead. [Genevieve, open the door right now.]

One second passed. Then two. A minute went by with no response.

Gus's expression darkened as he struggled to contain his anger, an icy chill radiating from him.

"Very well, Genevieve! You're really something!"

He ground his teeth, saying, "If this is what you want, you'd better not show your face to me ever again."

With that, he turned and walked away.

But this time, I truly wouldn't be showing up again.

I was dead—killed by my failure to win him over, killed in a crash that he had caused.

On the way back, the atmosphere in the car grew even more oppressive.

The driver cautiously glanced at Gus's face and asked, "Mr. Harding, should we go to the hospital or back home?"

This home referred to Joanna's.

Before Gus could answer, a shrill ringtone sliced through the silence.

"Gus, you jerk! How could you do this to Genevieve?"

Hearing my name, Gus's body stiffened, and he anxiously asked, "Where's Genevieve?"

Suzie screamed into the phone, "She's dead! You killed her!"