Melanie met Edwin's gaze for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I'm not mad. I won't take on any more work like that. It's late, Ed. You should get some rest."

With that, she closed the door. She turned to her open half-packed suitcase, let out a long sigh, and crouched down to zip it shut.

The next morning, after Edwin left the house, she went to his study and placed a letter and a bank card on the desk.

As she pulled her suitcase out of the house, her heart, which had felt numb for so long, suddenly began to ache.

The pain was sharp like someone was slowly tearing away all the memories she had made here.

She had wanted to say goodbye to Edwin properly, but she didn't know how to face him.

Eight years of her life—days and nights they had been through together—had finally come to an end.

The words she couldn't bring herself to say, she wrote in that letter. In the end, she wished him happiness, peace, and joy for the rest of his life.

That was it.

As the cab drove her toward the airport, her phone rang. It was Maurice calling.

Melanie ignored it. She had already made her decision to leave. There was no point in getting tangled up with Maurice and Edwin anymore.

But the phone rang again. And again. On the third call, she gave in and picked it up.

Maurice's voice was hoarse and desperate, begging Melanie to bring money to save her and Edwin. Before Melanie could respond, Maurice blurted out an address.

Then a rough male voice came on the line. He warned Melanie not to try anything clever or they'd kill her.

The call abruptly ended.

For a moment, Melanie was overwhelmed by fear. Then she snapped out of it and told the cab driver to turn around and head back to the Setchfields' villa.

As the cab sped toward the address, Melanie called Iverson, Edwin's assistant, who told her the CEO wasn't at the company and had canceled all his plans for the day.

Melanie tried calling a few of Edwin's friends, but none of them were with him.

An hour later, Melanie arrived at a dock with the money and boarded a yacht.

"The money's here," she said, trying to steady her voice. "Now let my brother go."

On the deck, a man wearing sunglasses smirked and motioned to one of the bodyguards nearby.

The bodyguard stepped forward and grabbed the card from Melanie's hands. A moment later, Maurice, tied up and disheveled, was dragged out onto the deck.

When she saw her fiancé's adopted sister, Maurice's face lit up. The bodyguard ripped the tape off her mouth, and she immediately dropped to her knees in front of the man in sunglasses.

"Mr. Fournier, now that she's here, you'll let me go, right?" she pleaded.

Myron, the man called Mr. Fournier, stood a few steps away and looked lazily at her. A wicked smile spread across his face.

"Oh, not so fast. The real fun is just beginning!"

His gaze shifted to Melanie. "Miss Henley, don't blame me. Blame Edwin for making too many enemies! And blame this dear sister-in-law of yours for her stupidity. She didn't just owe me money; she ran off and started a new life with the one person I despise the most! Did you really think I'd let her off that easily?"

It hit Melanie all at once. There was no Edwin here. Maurice had betrayed her.

Maurice, now trembling on the verge of collapse, looked up at Myron with wide eyes. "You said if I paid you back, you'd let me go!"

Myron sneered. "That money was hers, not yours. But don't worry—you still have a chance. When Edwin gets here, pray he chooses you. If he does, well, you might be saved."

Maurice's lips parted slightly as a bitter smile crept onto her face. "Son of a bitch! Aren't you afraid of being punished for this?!"

Myron slouched on the couch, taking a lazy drag from the cigarette his bodyguard had lit for him. "Afraid? Yeah, sure. But what's there to lose? I've already hit rock bottom. I've got nothing to lose—barefoot and reckless, baby. Dragging this out just buys me more time and a bigger payoff!"

"Damn lunatic," Maurice muttered.

An hour later, the growl of an engine tore through the quiet as a sleek black sports car sped down the winding coastal road. Dust and gravel flew up in its wake as it screeched to a halt by the shore.

Edwin stepped out, all business in his sharp black suit, carrying a leather briefcase.

On the yacht, Melanie and Maurice were separated, standing on opposite sides of the deck. Myron, riding a jet ski, zipped to the shore to start negotiations.

Maurice was already a sobbing mess, screaming out Edwin's name.

Melanie, on the other hand, was gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes stayed glued to the figure in the distance, her heart pounding in her chest.

For just a second, she let herself hope. Maybe—just maybe—she wouldn't be the one abandoned this time.

She couldn't help but remember when she was 14. How it felt to be dumped like trash. How Edwin had been the one to pick her up.

It had been raining cold and relentless that day, and all she was wearing was her thin pajamas.

She'd been thrown out of her house by debt collectors and stumbled into the mud.

Sharp gravel tore at her palms, and cruel, mocking words echoed around her like a relentless storm

People in passing luxury cars stared at her, their gazes filled with either pity or indifference. One of her classmates walked by, sneering, her lips curling with disdain.

To this day, Melanie could still hear her classmate's voice, crystal clear in her memory.

"Hey, Melanie! Heard your parents dumped you! Our villa needs a maid to sweep the yard—interested?"

The rain grew heavier, soaking Melanie's hair until it clung to her face. She stood shakily, cold, wet, and humiliated.

She struggled to stand, only to see a shadow fall over her.

She'd looked up and seen him—Edwin. Composed and perfect.

He held out his hand to pull her out of the mud and take her to his villa that day.

"This is your home now," he'd said. "From now on, I'm your family."

And for years, she had naively believed him. She thought she'd never feel the sting of abandonment again.

Being abandoned—it hurt more than she could ever put into words.

But then, over the radio on the yacht, she heard Edwin call Maurice's name.

And just like that, Melanie's fragile hope shattered into a thousand sharp little pieces.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her chest heaving as the relief hit her like a punch.

Her tears started falling, heavy and endless, but for once, they didn't hurt.

The ocean breeze was strong, and the sky was clear. Overhead, seagulls sang, and from the other side of the deck, Maurice's giddy voice carried over.

"I knew it! I knew Edwin wouldn't abandon me! He loves me—I just knew it!"

Melanie smiled faintly through her tears. She glanced toward the shore and thought, for just a moment, that Edwin was looking at her too.

But she quickly shook off the thought, laughing bitterly to herself.

Why would he be looking at her?

He hadn't looked at her when she'd confessed to him and gotten rejected.

He hadn't looked at her when she'd been burning up with a fever in that hospital bed.

And he sure as hell hadn't looked at her when he'd handed over her Gummy Gem—the one she'd worked so hard on—as a stepping stone to his fiancée.

In his eyes, she had long been replaced.

And maybe that was better.

That was better. At the very least, she didn't owe him anything anymore.

The next second, while the guards around her were distracted, Melanie climbed over the railing and jumped into the sea.