Ursula was forcing me to cave, and all of it was to protect Aaron.

I borrowed a phone from a nurse and dialed the number I knew by heart.

"Sir, could you... lend me some money?"

On the fourth day, I was cleared to leave the hospital.

Fighting through the discomfort of the titanium rib in my chest, I went to the company and handed in my resignation.

Even if I could still barely tolerate flying someday, a pilot whose physical condition failed to meet standard.

Would never captain a plane again.

After that, I made a trip back to my hometown.

Even swallowing my pride, I could only bring myself to ask my old mentor for a million dollars.

Years ago, I'd used the wages I'd saved to build my parents a two-story house with a courtyard back home.

It had long been agreed the place would go to my brother when he married.

So that house wasn't something I could take, and there was no need for it either.

But the moment I stepped into the courtyard, I froze.

Aaron sat at the table with a guitar in his arms, pinching the pick made from my rib between his fingers, while Ursula stood beside him feeding him fruit.

Seeing me, Aaron greeted me with a smile:

"Thomas, you're back? My concert needs an opening music video shot, and Ursula said the scenery here was nice, so she brought me along. Figured we'd drop off the money for your brother's wedding house while we're at it."

"I'm really sorry about that night, I had a bit too much to drink, I didn't mean it. But your mom and dad have already forgiven me on your behalf."

My parents nodded along, fawning, their eyes darting again and again to the two boxes of cash on the table.

Not one of them asked how I was doing after the surgery.

I walked over, stared at the suit he was wearing, and gave a bitter little laugh.

"What, taking my rib wasn't enough? Now you're taking my wedding suit too?"

"Do your fans know they've got a thief on their hands?"

Aaron's expression shifted, and he looked at the woman beside him, wounded.

"Thomas, ease up. I gave Aaron that suit. He didn't have anything decent to wear for the video."

Ursula shielded him behind her, displeasure written on her face.

"Besides, your build was never as good as his. It'd have been wasted on you anyway."

That suit had been custom-made half a year in advance.

And I'd never even tried it on. It was already on someone else's back.

I looked at Ursula. "Then what about me?"

"The wedding's at the end of the month. You think there's still time to have a new one made?"

She knit her brows, impatient.

"It's just a formality, isn't it? Rent something when the time comes. Don't be so cheap."

I had nothing left to say. I pushed the two boxes of money back toward her.

"Take the money back. We've already broken up, and my brother doesn't need another wedding house bought for him."

Ursula's face went cold at once, and she turned to my parents with a sneer.

"Is that so? Do you two think the same?"

"Such a shame. I'd been planning to give a three-million-dollar payout."

My parents' eyes lit up instantly.

Before I could get a word out, my mother pinched me hard.

"You little wretch, did they take your brain out along with your rib? Who said we don't need it? You think it won't cost money when your brother has kids someday?"

"You're his older brother. Can't you show some sense? You think a breakup is something you just throw around?!"

So they really had agreed to it.

I shut my eyes, my heart gone cold.

"How much more sense do you want from me? The money I've made all these years either went to pay off your debts and build your house, or you schemed every way you could to swindle it out of me, so my brother could eat, drink, and play."

"For money, you'd sell off my career and my health, watch my fiancée parade around town with another man, and never once ask whether I was in pain."

"I've been sensible enough. My brother has two hands and two feet. If he wants a wedding house, he can go earn it himself. If he can't afford it, then don't have kids. I'm a person, not your cash cow!"

The words had barely left my mouth when my father's hand cracked across my face.

"You've got some nerve! This family raised you all these years. You owe us!"

"What's one lousy rib worth? Ms. Henson is only trying to help a friend. If a woman like her can look past what you are, if she doesn't think you're beneath her, that's your good fortune!"

"Sit tight, marry Ms. Henson, and take care of your brother. Isn't that a damn sight better than playing pilot? Marriage is for parents to decide. You breathe another word about breaking it off and I'll snap your legs. As far as I'm concerned, I never had a son like you!"

My father was a farmhand, all muscle, and that blow landed hard.

The taste of blood flooded my mouth at once.

I pressed a hand to my face and dragged the corner of my mouth into a bitter twist.

Seeing him rear back for another hit, Ursula finally spoke, unhurried.

"Enough. Laying hands on my fiancé right in front of me. Are you trying to humiliate me?"

My father bobbed his head in a rush. "No, no, never. Thomas, your dad didn't mean it. Don't take it to heart, all right?"

"Ms. Henson, you two talk. His mother and I will go make Thomas some plum tea. It's his favorite."

I watched them haul those two boxes of cash into the house, barely able to wait.

Something in my chest went hollow with grief.

These were my parents.

For money, they'd fawn over the mistress who'd torn apart their son's relationship.

And only for money would they ever bother to show me a kind face.

Ursula sighed.

"Thomas, I know you're devoted to your family, that more than anything you want peace under one roof."

"Look at me. I'm the only one who doesn't mind that you've got a pack of bloodsuckers for relatives, the only one who can keep your parents in line and give you what you want. Come on, stop this. Does your face hurt?"

There was a lofty charity in her tone, as if she were handing something down to me.

That was Ursula. No one was better at turning a person's soft spot into a blade to force them to cave.

She reached out to touch my face. I turned aside.

"Spare me the fake concern, Ms. Henson. If the money bought my brother a house, then let him pay it back."

"The million from before, I'll return to you. After that, we're square."

Her face darkened in an instant, and I saw the dawning suspicion in it, the sense that something was slipping out of her grip.

She was about to say something when Aaron looped his arm through mine, coaxing.

"Thomas, don't be so stubborn. You've only been a captain for six months. Where would you get that kind of money?"

"Oh. Unless you've latched onto someone new?"

I shook him off in disgust. "None of your business!"

Aaron lost his footing and pitched backward.

Ursula caught him fast and glared at me, seething. "Thomas Harding, Aaron was only trying to help, and even with a guilty conscience you didn't have to put your hands on him. Apologize. Now!"

I let out a cold laugh, biting off each word. "Not a chance!"

Then, without a second's hesitation, I walked out.

Behind me came Ursula's furious warning.

"Thomas Harding, you'll regret this!"

I didn't slow down. I didn't look back.

Back at my apartment, just as I was about to reach out to my landlord about ending the lease, the doorbell rang.

Puzzled, I opened the door. Two officers flashed their badges and a search warrant.

"Mr. Harding, someone reported a theft."

"Step aside, please. We need to search the premises immediately."

And behind them, arms crossed, Ursula leaned against the wall, watching me with a smile playing at her lips.

Two minutes later, they pulled that limited-edition watch of hers out of my bag.

Once she confirmed it was hers, the officers turned to me, grave and cold.

"Mr. Harding, we'll need you to come with us."

A strange, hollow laugh rose in me.

That watch. The night of the party, in the private room, her strap had gotten soaked with liquor.

She'd taken it off herself and asked me to hold on to it.

And now she was using that against me, framing me as a thief.

"So this is how you settle the score for Aaron?"

Ursula lifted a hand and brushed my cheek, her tone put-upon.

"Aaron twisted his ankle, and he's been crying so hard. I have to give him something."

"Relax. I'm just having you cool your heels inside for a few days, keep up appearances. Once I finish shooting the MV with Aaron, I'll get you out."

The night before Aaron's concert, Ursula had her assistant submit a letter of forgiveness and brought me out.

My hair was a mess and my face was pale as they walked me into a private suite at a club.

Aaron had an arm around Ursula's waist, sipping champagne, a few of his biggest fans seated beside him.

Every one of them had put real money into pushing him up the charts.

When she saw my pale face and the scratches on my neck, Ursula shot to her feet.

"How did you end up in such a state? Was someone bullying you in there?"

The moment she said it, Aaron snorted a laugh.

"Ms. Harding, did you find out ahead of time that Ursula was bringing you here to apologize to me, so you faked those wounds on purpose to weasel out of it?"

"No wonder a few of the tattoo-sticker props went missing when I was shooting the MV. Turns out you stole them."

At that, Ursula sat back down, the concern gone from her eyes.

"Thomas, I don't have time to play games with you."

"Tomorrow is Aaron's concert. But the photos of you throwing your drink on him leaked online, and now everyone's calling him a homewrecker. It's really gotten to him. He's botched the rehearsal several times."

"For the sake of Aaron's reputation and his future, you're going to apologize to him now, live, in front of the whole country, and we'll call it even."

I looked at her.

"So the moment I apologize, I won't owe you anything anymore?"

Ursula hesitated, then nodded anyway.

Expressionless, I turned toward the phone cameras those fans were holding up.

"I'm sorry. Aaron isn't a homewrecker."

Aaron gave a disdainful little laugh.

"Thomas, with an attitude like that, are you trying to fob off idiots?"

"Then what do you want?"

He pointed at the full bottle of hard liquor on the coffee table.

"I don't mind being wrongly accused. But I can't stand my fans getting called brain-dead by everyone else because of you."

"You threw a glass of liquor on me back then. Now I'm having you down a whole bottle. That's fair, isn't it?"

I looked at Ursula.

I remembered the night the doctor told her that during my post-surgery recovery I absolutely could not drink.

Because it would react with the medication I was taking and cause severe damage to my stomach lining.

But she only frowned, impatient.

"Thomas, no use looking at me. You made the mistake, you carry it."

"It's just one bottle. It won't kill you."

The corner of my mouth twitched. So she'd already forgotten.

Or rather, anything to do with me simply wasn't worth keeping in her mind.

And she certainly wouldn't care that for those few days I'd been deliberately locked up with Aaron's fans, 'taught a lesson' in a new way every day.

A whole bottle of hard liquor, poison going down, my stomach cramping in waves.

Right there, I coughed up blood.

Before Ursula could open her mouth, Aaron let out a mock gasp.

"Thomas, so you stole my blood pack too? Tsk. What a scheming piece of work."

"Fine. Since you tried so hard with the performance, we'll let it slide this time. But no more bullying me from now on, okay? Ursula, come back with me and get some beauty sleep. We've got an early start tomorrow to get ready."

Ursula took his hand and left. As she passed me, she dropped a handkerchief at my feet.

"Wipe yourself clean. Cut out these stunts from now on. They're childish."

Like she was dealing with a dog that had embarrassed her.

But what she didn't notice was that the few fans Aaron had brought hadn't left with them.