Delia felt her chest tighten with regret.

In her past life, she'd been blind-pushed away the man who truly loved her in silence, and got played like a fool by Nathan and that venomous Isabelle.

That mix of guilt and relief brought tears to her eyes.

Curtis's fingers twitched slightly, unsure if he should reach out and wipe her tears away.

She sniffled and rubbed her face messily with the back of her hand.

"Curtis, I was a total jerk before. But from today on, I just wanna live properly with you."

"And you...stop bottling everything up, okay? Don't keep everything to yourself."

"I really love you. I never wanna see you all alone again."

Curtis's heart skipped a beat.

For a moment, reality felt shaky, like he wasn't quite awake.

Was he dreaming? Otherwise, why would Delia say something so honest, so full of love?

Off to the side, Noah and Edith shot each other a look, both stunned beyond words.

Was this really the same Delia who used to treat Curtis like her worst enemy?

Curtis didn't say anything, still staring at her in disbelief, but Delia didn't seem the least discouraged.

She walked over, tears still on her face, and looked up at him. "Babe, say something, will you? I wanna hear your voice, wanna know what you're thinking. You're always so quiet, I can't read your mind..."

Curtis was caught off guard by how close she got, and her words made his ears turn red.

"...Right. I get it." He mumbled, awkwardly looking away.

Noah kept a straight face but once again exchanged a worried glance with Edith.

Delia hadn't done anything wrong yet. That wasn't the issue.

What worried them was the way Curtis looked-like he'd already fallen all over again.

Was he really letting her sweet words melt him just like that?

If this was all an act...he'd end up heartbroken.

Better to keep a closer eye on things, just in case.

*****

Dinner finally wrapped up in a weird, kind-of-flirty vibe.

Curtis had to discuss something with Noah in the study.

Delia, though clearly reluctant, didn't make a fuss.

She watched Curtis leave the dining room with Noah, took a deep breath, and turned to Edith, who'd been quietly standing by.

"Edith, could you arrange to move my stuff back to the master bedroom?"

Delia's tone was steady, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. "I don't think it's healthy for a married couple to live separately for so long."

Edith blinked, clearly taken aback, but she quickly composed herself and offered a respectful nod. "Of course, ma'am. Though-"

She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Mr. Stockton actually instructed us not to touch anything in the master suite. He wanted everything left exactly as it was."

"So all we'll need to do is move your day-to-day items and clothing. Nothing else has to change."

Delia froze. Her breath hitched, and a flush of warmth rushed to her eyes.

He hadn't moved a thing. He'd been waiting for her all along.

Even after everything, even knowing she probably wouldn't come back, he'd still held on?

That wave of bittersweet emotion hit her hard, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

It hurt, realizing how foolish she'd been last time around-but at least now she had a chance to fix it.

This second chance really was a gift from above.

He never left. He just waited-quietly, patiently-for her to turn around.

"...Got it." Her voice cracked a little.

She pulled herself together, forced a smile, and looked at Edith. "Thanks. Please move it all back as soon as you can."

This time, going back to that room wasn't just about where she slept.

It was going home-to the man she loved.

*****

In the study, the mood was heavy.

Noah closed the door firmly, his usual respectful demeanor replaced by seriousness."Mr. Stockton, we've got the intel."

"Talk," Curtis said, wheeling closer to his desk.

"It wasn't easy-the site was cleaned up pretty thoroughly. But tracking the money trail gave us more than a few clues." Noah paused, a flash of disgust crossing his face. "It's Matthew again."

Curtis sat quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

The light outlined his silhouette, cold and sharp-edged.

Hearing that name, his eyes barely twitched, and his brows knitted slightly.

A cold glint passed through his dark eyes.

Matthew Stockton-his half-brother from his father's second marriage.

Mediocre at best, sly as a snake, always eyeing Stockton Group like it was his birthright.

Pulling shady moves wasn't new to him.

But this time? The guy actually dared to go lethal.

"Handle it," Curtis said calmly. "Those shell companies under his name? Time they got a wake-up call."

"No need to make this incident obvious. Just keep him too busy cleaning up his own mess."

"Yes, sir," Noah replied, already plotting the plan out in his head.

Matthew had been playing games with Curtis for a while now. They'd gotten pretty practiced at clapping back.

"I'll keep it low-key, make sure he's running around like a headless chicken. He won't have time to stir the pot again for a while."

Honestly, he'd had it with that do-nothing party boy who stabbed Curtis in the back when no one was looking.

Their previous attempts to shut him down weren't strong enough. That always sat wrong with Noah.

Matthew kept crossing lines, and Curtis turned a blind eye more often than not.

Which only made the guy cockier-until now.

This time, they were going to hit him where it hurt.

Once business was handled, silence settled in the study.

Noah glanced at Curtis's worn-out profile and hesitated before speaking.

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Curtis said, lifting his head.

Noah drew a breath, then spit it out.

"Why are you so invested in Delia?"

"What do you mean?" Curtis's brows creased.

Sensing his boss's mood shift, Noah corrected himself, but the questioning tone stayed. "You know what she used to be like. I saw it all, and honestly, I couldn't stand it. Now she's acting like a whole different person. It's... off."

"Noah," Curtis cut in, voice suddenly cold. "She's my wife. The woman of this household."

"I expect you to remember that, along with what she's owed in respect."

His tone was sharp, no room for argument.

Noah froze, the rest of his warning stuck in his throat.

He lowered his eyes, muttering, "Understood."

But deep down, he was fuming.

Why did that woman deserve this level of protection from Curtis?

Curtis turned his wheelchair toward the window, the night outside casting a quiet shadow over him.

After a long pause, his voice was calm again.

"I know it might just be an act. She might go back to her old ways eventually."

"But even so, I still can't..."

His words trailed off, ending in a faint, bitter laugh.

Curtis couldn't turn away from the tenderness Delia showed now.

Was it self-inflicted poison, or a lifeline?

He knew how real her hatred had been in the past.

Now all the warmth she gave felt wrong and out of place.

His brain screamed this was a trap, while his heart couldn't help but cling to it.

He was diving in, fully aware he might drown.

Noah looked at Curtis's lonely silhouette, full of conflict.

All he could do was let out a long sigh.

At the end of the day, he just hoped Delia truly cared about Curtis this time.

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom.

Delia had already asked Edith to help move her stuff back in.

She lay sprawled out on the big, soft bed, hugging his usual pillow, breathing in deeply.

The scent of Curtis lingered faintly at the tip of her nose - cool and familiar.

Her head was full of thoughts about him.

It was only then that her whole body finally relaxed.

Only a day had passed since she'd been reborn, yet it felt like forever.

She knew now - all she needed to do was love him.

That was enough.

But the path to revenge was still long.

Even so, now that she had Curtis back within reach, she wouldn't let go again.

"Curtis... such a hard nut to crack," she mumbled with a wry smile.

But deep down, she knew it never took much to win his heart.

Even after all the hurt between them.

All it took was one glance back, and he'd still be there waiting.

She didn't think she had done much, yet Curtis forgave her anyway.

And not just forgave-he was starting to trust her again.

Delia couldn't believe a man this good was actually her husband.

The thought filled her with a quiet joy.

Before she realized it, fatigue began to creep in, and she gradually drifted into a light nap.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a soft sound stirred her.

The door opening quietly.

The slight friction of wheelchair wheels drew nearer.

Curtis had just wrapped up some work and rolled into the bedroom.

Suddenly, he paused at the doorway, frowning.

There was a faint, unfamiliar sweetness in the air.

His eyes darkened as he looked toward the bed.

In the dim light, he could make out the shape of someone lying there.

"Who's there?" His voice was low, with a hint of irritation.

The cold tone startled Delia awake.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes in confusion, her voice still soft from sleep.

"Honey? You're back... it's me."

The moment he realized it was her, the tension in Curtis eased.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pausing before softening his voice.

As he looked at her dazed face, something flickered in his expression.

This wasn't like her at all. In the past, she wouldn't even agree to share a bed with him, let alone do it on her own.

He flipped the light on and wheeled himself over slowly. "Thought you'd head to the guest room," he said.

"You haven't slept here in a while."

There was a trace of... something in his voice. Maybe sadness. Maybe frustration.

"Well, don't you want me here?" Delia got out of bed, barefoot, stepping in front of him.

She gave him a gentle smile and looked up at his tense profile.

"We're married. We should sleep in the same bed."

"That was the past. Now, I just want to be close to you."

She reached out and gently tugged his sleeve, her tone soft and coaxing.

Curtis looked into her expectant eyes - bright and nervous.

Part of him wanted to keep his guard up, but he couldn't ignore the voice inside him getting louder.

He still wanted her. More than just a physical closeness.

The kind of love he thought he'd already buried.

But her presence was stirring it all up again.

"You might not be used to sleeping here," he said finally.

Then added as an afterthought, "You've never come here on your own before."

Ever since their reluctant marriage, Delia had done everything to stay away from him, even in the same house.That, of course, included the master bedroom that newlyweds were supposed to share.

Curtis hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "If you really want to go back..."

He figured Delia might've just had a sudden change of heart.

"Don't say that. As long as you're with me, anywhere feels like home," Delia cut him off without missing a beat, her voice firm and clear.

"Honey, if I insist on sleeping here, would you actually kick me out?"

Curtis fell silent, his lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Truthfully, part of him had always hoped for this.

But given how sarcastic Delia had been with him before, he never dared to wish she'd change her mind.

She didn't seem bothered by his silence. Instead, she leaned in eagerly.

"Come on, I've already napped on the bed. Don't act all shy," she teased.

Then she reached out and started helping him from the wheelchair to the bed, a bit clumsy but surprisingly earnest.

Curtis watched her struggling with it-awkward, but so serious-and the words to turn her away just wouldn't come.

Eventually, he let her help him, settling uneasily on the other side of the bed.

He purposely kept some space between them.

But Delia's soft scent lingered in the air, making muscle memory tense up on instinct.

Right as he got comfortable, Delia scooted closer like a little cat, curling around him without warning.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, snuggling in close.

It was an unguarded kind of embrace, warm and natural.

She squinted her eyes, murmuring, "Yup, this... this feels right."

"Your hugs are my melatonin, babe."

Curtis froze, his breath catching for a second.

A rush of heat shot straight to his face, ears practically burning.

He was so nervous, he didn't dare move a muscle.

Delia could feel how stiff he was, which made her want to laugh-but also warmed her heart.

He was adorably flustered. So innocent, this man.

"Delia," he finally sighed, "you... this is making me really nervous."

His awkwardness was written all over his face-impossible to miss. So Curtis just gave up and spoke his mind.

She tightened her arms around him, rubbing her nose gently on his back.

In a lazy, sweet voice right by his ear, she whispered, "Don't be so tense, hubby."

"I'll hug you like this every night 'til you get used to it."

"We're a couple-being close is normal."

"I love you so much, you know?"

Her words, light as air, brushed right over his raw nerves.

The warmth and reliance in her touch were almost too real to believe.

It was a far cry from the sharp, distant version of Delia he remembered.

In her arms, Curtis' body gradually relaxed.

He shut his eyes, listening to her steady breathing behind him.

A rare sense of peace filled him from the inside out.

Maybe this was just a dream after all.

But if it was-he'd rather not wake up, ever.

In the stillness, wrapped in darkness and warmth-

For the first time, Curtis could feel her love so clearly.

"Delia... what are you really after?" he muttered to himself.

How was it possible that the woman who once hurt him had now come back to him, like this?

He turned his head slightly, leaning in to catch the faint scent from her hair.

She didn't seem like the same person-and yet, she was unmistakably her.

His breath trembled a little as he hugged her back, like holding something too precious to let go.

Whatever this was... even if it was fake, he just wanted it to last a bit longer.

Delia shifted her head slightly, but her whole body felt limp, like all strength had drained out of her.

She blinked hard and forced her eyes open. What she saw was a dusty, cobweb-covered room shrouded in dim light.

Wasn't she just tucked under the covers? Where the hell was she now?

For a moment, her mind went blank, but then the fog started to clear.

She tried to move, instinctively-but realized she was tied up tight with scratchy rope, unable to budge.

Pain spread through her body, sharp and familiar. She glanced down.

Under the faint light, she saw old burn scars winding across her bare skin-scars from that fire.

But... hadn't she been reborn? Wasn't she just peacefully asleep in Curtis's arms?

How was she suddenly back in her past life again?

Panic, icy and overwhelming, slammed into her like a wave.

"You're up?" A soft, girlish voice floated over.

Delia's head whipped up. The moment she saw the person standing before her, all warmth drained from her face.

Isabelle.

She looked completely out of place here-face flawless, makeup perfect, standing straight and smug in this filthy attic.

She wore that mocking smile, eyes glinting with disdain, a dagger Delia recognized instantly resting casually in her hand.

Just like before-except now, the roles had flipped.

Nathan was here too, looking as polished and fake as ever.

His eyes practically screamed sarcasm, not even trying to hide it.

"This can't be real," Delia whispered, her throat raw and dry. "It's just a nightmare... Curtis, where are you!"

She screamed, desperately clutching onto that last sliver of hope-that maybe, just maybe, the man who'd once held her silently in his arms would show up like some miracle.

But the only response was Isabelle's cold, cruel laughter.

"Haha, still dreaming your silly little fairy tale?"

"That useless cripple? You threw him away with your own hands!"

"You really think anyone's coming to save you now? Who even cares about you?"

Each word hit her like a poisoned needle, straight to the heart.

Yeah... it was her.

She'd hurled cruel words at Curtis, pushed him away again and again, burning every bridge until there was no turning back.

"Delia," Nathan's voice cut in-still soft, still gentle.

But every word out of his mouth dug into her like glass.

"Honestly, you're still this naive? Still this dumb?"

"You actually thought I loved you?"

He knelt so they were eye to eye, his expression full of fake pity and a twisted sort of amusement.

"Thanks to you, things went smoother than we ever imagined. All that Fleming family money, and the stuff from Curtis? We couldn't have done it without you. You're basically the MVP here."

"You'll all rot in hell!" Delia broke down in tears, fighting against the ropes, only to feel them biting deeper into her skin.

"'Rot in hell'?" Isabelle sneered.

She dragged the dagger slowly across Delia's cheek. "Look at you now. Who'd want someone like this?"

Before Delia could react, the blade slashed down hard.

"AH!!" Blood burst out instantly, trailing down her face.

"Can't handle a little scratch?" Isabelle leaned in, looking thrilled to see her in agony. "Don't worry, this is just the warm-up. This face of yours-it wasn't much to start with, but it still pisses me off."

"No... don't..." Delia shook her head in terror.

But Isabelle didn't even flinch.

"Ruining it is perfect. That way, there's no coming back for you. You'll rot away here-just like you deserve."

The dagger sliced across her skin again and again, leaving raw, bloody marks behind.

"Alright, Isabelle, that's enough," Nathan said in mock concern.

But in his hand was a syringe.

And he didn't hesitate in plunging it straight into Delia's arm.

Agonizing pain surged like wildfire through her veins.

"CURTIS!!" she screamed. She let out one final scream of pure despair as her vision went blurry.

The twisted, satisfied faces of those two faded away behind mocking laughter...

The sharp sting of antiseptic took the place of blood.

Delia lay on the hospital bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, looking more like a mummy than a person.

She tried to move-but even lifting a finger felt impossible.

A woman in a nurse uniform and mask walked in. "Time to change your dressing."

Without another word, the nurse yanked at the gauze on Delia's body with zero hesitation.

Every pull sent pain shooting through her like an electric shock. Her eyes welled with tears instantly.

"Don't cry. Suck it up. Changing dressings always hurts," the nurse said flatly, her hands moving just as rough.

"You're in bad shape, huh? Well, guess that's what happens when you piss off the wrong people."

"Curtis... please... help me..." Delia sobbed quietly.

The nurse snorted. "Waiting for Mr. Stockton to save you? Get real. He dumped you ages ago."

"You'd better just stay here and wait to rot."

No. Curtis would never abandon her.

This was her fault-she was blind to what real love looked like.

"Curtis!" Delia sat up abruptly, gasping.

Her nightclothes were drenched in cold sweat, hair clinging messily to her forehead.

She panted, heart pounding, her eyes wide with terror.

But the air around her was cool, steadying, like someone had opened a window after a storm.

Her nerves, stretched to the point of snapping, slowly began to relax.

It was just a nightmare.

Still, everything she saw felt hauntingly real.

She turned her head and saw the man beside her sitting up, clearly startled by her sudden movement.

Curtis had already woken the moment she bolted upright.

He hadn't even said anything yet when he noticed her tear-streaked face.

Without thinking, he reached for her. "Delia, what's wrong?"

Delia stared at him like she needed that moment to believe he was really there, then threw herself into his arms, her grip tight.

"Babe! Ugh..." Her voice cracked as she buried her face in his chest.

Curtis stiffened for a second, caught off guard by her sudden breakdown.

Then he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"Bad dream?" he asked gently, his voice softer than usual. He awkwardly patted her back, trying to ease her fear.

"It's okay. I'm here now. You're safe. Don't cry."

Delia clung to his shirt like her life depended on it, like letting go meant he'd vanish.

"You... you're not gonna leave me, right?"

Curtis held her tighter. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Delia nestled deeper into his hug. "Okay... just don't leave me..."

Her voice faded, her breathing steadying as her exhaustion pulled her back under.

Tears still clinging to her lashes, she drifted back to sleep in his arms.

Curtis looked down at her, his brows furrowed, emotions swirling behind his eyes.

What kind of memory could've shaken her so badly?

They say nightmares come from real stress, and seeing her like this... Curtis felt a pang of guilt.

Maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention.

Lately, she had been acting kind of off.

Realizing it only now made him kick himself a bit.

With one arm still around her, he reached for his phone on the nightstand.

He quickly dialed a number.

The call was picked up after barely one ring-Noah's voice came through. "Mr. Stockton?"

"Look into the people Delia's been seeing lately."

"Uh... yes, sir. On it." Noah sounded surprised but didn't ask further questions.

Curtis hung up and placed the phone back.

Whatever secrets she was hiding, he needed to find out the truth.