After being kidnapped, my fiancé, Conner, chose not to pay the ransom. He wanted to save the money for the medical treatment of his childhood sweetheart, Kayla, who was gravely ill. I endured endless humiliation and abuse from my captors. When I finally escaped, Conner looked at my broken body with contempt, telling me I should just go and die. On that day, I slit my wrist. Blood spread like fireworks. I laughed and told Conner, "I was the one who agreed to donate my bone marrow to Kayla, only to vanish on the day of the transplant."

The night I escaped back into the city, I felt like a stray dog, crouched beside a garbage bin. Ignoring the pus and blood oozing from my wounds, I devoured spoiled food scraps. Onlookers raised their phones, the flash illuminating my stained strapless top and underwear. Taunts, sighs, and the catcalling of men filled the air. All I thought about was filling my stomach so I could survive to see Conner again.

On the day of the kidnapping, I begged Conner over the phone to pay for my release. He merely scoffed, "Emilia, your begging is pathetic. Your life isn't worth Kayla's treatment money." In that moment, my self-respect and hope were crushed. I was heartbroken. Yet when I escaped that nightmare, the only person I wanted to see was the man I had loved for eight years. Besides him, I had nothing left.

A sudden commotion stirred the crowd. Several men stormed in. Terrified, I clutched my food and scrambled back, spotting a luxury car parked at the crowd's edge. Conner leaned against it, looking down at me with disdain. Only then did I realize the men were his assistants. They tossed the remaining food into the trash, hoisted me up, and took me to his car.

My festering wounds oozed pus, leaving a stench that lingered in the car. Conner's eyes scanned my exposed skin. In just over ten days, my body bore countless whip marks and burns, with no unblemished skin left. He ignored those wounds, his gaze landing on my filthy undergarments. He frowned, "Emilia, you're absolutely filthy."

I knew he thought I was tainted inside and out. After he refused to pay the ransom, they stripped me, whipped me, burned me, hurled vile insults, and doused me with urine and feces. In the end, they violated me. At that moment, I finally understood. As the former foster daughter of the Peterson family and now Conner's fiancée, I could be arrogant with anyone but never measure up to even a strand of Kayla's hair. I contemplated ending my life but couldn't let go of Conner.

Barefoot, I ran over jagged glass, drank filthy water with dead rodents, and fled. Without rest, I finally returned to Conner. Yet he found me repulsive. My head hung low, humility consuming me. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make it back alive as quickly as possible, which is why I'm like this..."

Conner interrupted with a sneer. "Kayla was right. Even without paying the ransom, you'd come back alive because you orchestrated the whole thing!" My heart felt pierced, painfully contracting. From the start, Conner never believed I was kidnapped. The ransom demanded was five hundred thousand, the same amount he had set aside for Kayla's treatment. So Conner suspected all along that I staged my own kidnapping to take Kayla's treatment money and let her die.

I almost told him there was something critical I hadn't yet finished. But in the end, I chose silence, swallowing the unsaid words with a bitterness that lingered in my throat. The odor clung to every corner of the car, and Conner tossed me his jacket with a grimace.

"Cover up that smell!" he snapped.

I wrapped myself tightly, tears brimming in my eyes, but Conner's expression remained stern.

"The person who was supposed to donate bone marrow to Kayla is missing," he said. "Her condition isn't good. When you go back, steer clear and treat her well."

My fingers curled in trembling despair. He was blind to my injuries, his mind focused solely on Kayla’s illness. Kayla had leukemia. The day I was kidnapped was supposed to be the day of her bone marrow transplant. But her donor vanished.

As these thoughts consumed me, Conner impatiently reminded me, "Remember, you took what should have been Kayla’s spot. You owe her."

Kayla was Conner’s one true love. After they were separated, my persistence led Scarlett to arrange my engagement with Conner. The day after our engagement, Kayla returned home. She knelt before me, begging me to give Conner back to her, and I laughed at her hopeful dreams. Later, she fell ill, and Conner was convinced that I was the cause of her suffering.

I swallowed my bitterness and nodded gently. "I know I owe her. I’ve always wanted to make amends, and I will try."

"Being indebted to her"—this phrase was drilled into me by Conner countless times, yet I never wanted to admit it or voice it.

Conner looked at me with disdain. "Have you learned anything these past few days? But how will you repay her? Kayla only needs a bone marrow transplant now, and your blood isn’t a match."

My nails dug into my palm. In Conner’s eyes, I was worthless. If my blood were to fill Kayla’s veins, it would be an insult to them all.

The car stopped outside the Peterson estate. In the grand hall, Kayla sat pale, like a fragile flower on the verge of wilting. Conner blocked my path and turned to shield Kayla in his arms.

"Emilia, go clean up. In your current state, you might make Kayla sick."

Kayla was now the porcelain doll Conner cherished, untouchable and fragile. Silently, I turned and went upstairs, immersing my dirty, foul-smelling body in hot water. The pain from my wounds pierced deeply, and I overheard Conner instructing Kimberly to dispose of the jacket I had worn. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, not just from the pain but from Conner’s rejection.

After a while, Kimberly knocked on the door, saying Scarlett was eager to see me. I dried myself off and put on a Victorian-style dress to prevent Scarlett from worrying.

As I descended the stairs, Scarlett was in tears, her fists playfully hitting my arms. Kayla softly pleaded with her.

"Nana, if Conner ever bullies Emilia again, make sure you give him a good scolding... we can't let Emilia run away from home in a fit of rage anymore..."

Thanks to Kayla's "innocent" hints, everyone believed the kidnapping was just my melodramatic stunt. Scarlett wiped away her tears, chiding my foolish heart, but eagerly pulled me into a seat, piling my plate high with pulled pork and lobster. The ordinary meal now carried an irresistible aroma. My saliva quickly pooled, and my stomach clenched in hunger. With trembling fingers, I picked up a piece of pulled pork and shoved it into my mouth.

Just as the savory meat spread across my palate, Conner's voice sliced through the air with displeasure.

"Emilia, Kayla is sick and can't eat anything. Do you really have to enjoy your meal just to provoke her?"

I froze, the pulled pork slipping from my fork onto the table. Kayla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she clutched a cup of plain coffee. Memories from my captivity suddenly engulfed me.

A chill ran through me, and swiftly I pushed away the plate and fork, dropping to my knees with a thud.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong! I'm a worthless coward who couldn't even manage to earn a single penny for ransom. I don't deserve this kind of food! I don't even deserve pig slop!"

I raised a trembling hand, letting slap after slap fall upon my cheek with unforgiving force.

Scarlett inhaled sharply, startled by the chaos. Conner dashed over to steady me.

"Emilia, what's gotten into you? You've scared Kayla!"

His concern remained fixed on Kayla, as usual.

Emphasizing the scene, Kayla dropped her water glass, which shattered on the ground, dredging up painful memories of glass cutting into my feet when I fled.

Trembling, I struggled out of Conner's grasp.

"Please, let me go! I need to go home, I need to find Conner!"

I screamed, retreating to a corner, my hands fluttering wildly, trying to banish the haunting images.

Scarlett was at wit's end. "Conner, what is happening? Wasn't the kidnapping just Emilia’s charade? But now I truly believe she was abducted and harmed... Conner, look at her, why is there so much blood?"

I lowered my head and saw that blood and pus had seeped through my clothes.

Conner's expression was a mix of confusion and reluctant sympathy. He approached me cautiously.

"Emilia, you're back at the Peterson estate now. No one will harm you here."

That gentle tone was one I had only heard him use with Kayla.

Gradually, I calmed, stretching a trembling hand toward Conner. He embraced me warmly.

Suddenly, Kayla cried out in distress.

"Conner, I'm hurt!"

She had stepped on glass, leaving a small cut on her foot.

Immediately, Conner released me and dashed to Kayla's side.

I fell heavily, my wounds reopening painfully.

Agony took hold as I lay curled up, watching Conner lift Kayla up, anxiously checking if she was okay.

Kayla, seemingly remorseful, said, "I’m the one who was careless. I’m fine, go help Emilia."

Yet, a triumphant smirk lingered on her lips.

I peered up at Kayla nestled in Conner's arms and suddenly began to laugh.

No one understood better than Kayla.

That while I was held captive, Conner had never forsaken her to rescue me.

Now, as I sat defeated on the Peterson's floor, why would Conner abandon her to tend to me?

My laughter became increasingly bitter.

Conner’s expression darkened. "Emilia, do you really take pleasure in scaring Kayla?"

I wanted to tell him I was merely laughing at my past arrogance and self-deception.

But as soon as I opened my mouth, blood poured out.

Kayla's scream shattered the air.

I glanced at the floor, stained crimson.

Suddenly, darkness descended, and I lost consciousness.