With a deafening bang, the door slammed shut. Dorothy stared at the bottles of medicine beside her and the tears she had been holding back finally fell, each drop carrying the weight of her grief.

Her hands trembled violently and an overwhelming urge to grab a knife and cut her wrist surged through her.

In her darkest moments, Dorothy had often turned to self-harm, finding a strange peace in the blood, a way to silence the chaos inside her. But now, the room felt suffocatingly empty, with nothing to grasp onto.

She gritted her teeth, trying to still her trembling hands, but it was hopeless. Finally, she curled up into herself, her sobs silent yet full of despair, like someone who had lost their voice.

For days, Dorothy remained locked in this void of emptiness. The servants brought her food, but Portia would always replace it with leftover scraps.

Portia’s grudge over the slap remained fresh and every chance she got, when Kyrie wasn’t around, she would find ways to humiliate Dorothy, even showing her videos of herself with Kyrie in bed.

Dorothy was on the edge of a complete breakdown. Her body shook relentlessly and the thoughts of self-harm and suicide grew, suffocating her like wild vines. At her lowest point, she even considered ending it all in front of Portia or dragging them both down together.

But when her mind turned to Ivan, still lying in the hospital, she gritted her teeth and fought the urge.

If she died, Kyrie would never care about Ivan’s life.

She couldn’t die.

Portia watched Dorothy, her hands trembling as she tried to hold back the pain, a mocking smile curling on her lips. "Worried about Ivan?"

Dorothy froze, feeling the blood drip from her clenched palm, where she had dug her nails in too deep.

Portia’s voice was cold as ice. "I’ll tell you the truth. Your brother’s condition has worsened. While you’ve been away, his heart disease relapsed multiple times. The doctors have said he’s critical. He’s about to die."

Dorothy’s eyes widened in horror. She hissed, barely able to breathe. "Did you do something to provoke him?"

Portia just smiled, saying nothing.

"Why are you doing this?"

Driven by anger and desperation, Dorothy stumbled out of bed, reaching for Portia’s sleeve. But just as her fingers brushed the fabric, Kyrie stepped through the door.

Dorothy turned instantly, gripping his pant leg with desperate hands. "Kyrie, how’s my brother? Please, let me see him!"

Kyrie looked down at her, his gaze hardening, unable to stomach her pitiful state. He clicked his tongue and tossed his phone at her. "Go ahead."

Without hesitation, Dorothy gritted her teeth, sprang to her feet and bolted out of the villa. Snow fell heavily outside and she stood in the cold for what felt like an eternity before finally hailing a cab. But when she reached the hospital, her heart shattered.

Ivan was gone.

She hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

This couldn’t be true… It was impossible.

Tears blurred Dorothy’s vision as she gripped the doctor’s sleeve. "You must have made a mistake! His heart disease was serious, but not to the point of death! When did this happen? How could this happen? Why didn’t anyone contact me?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Howell, please calm down. Mr. Howell’s condition relapsed last night. We tried to reach you, but we couldn’t."

Dorothy staggered back, barely keeping her balance.

Last night, she had woken suddenly, pain cutting through her chest, a cold sense of dread filling her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her thoughts had turned to Ivan. Yet no matter how desperately she begged, Kyrie had refused to let her go.

Now, they had released her. It was clear they had known Ivan was gone.

"Why did his heart disease relapse so suddenly? It had been stable! Did someone provoke him? Did Portia visit him?"

The memory of Portia’s smug expression set Dorothy’s blood boiling. Her hand shook as she pulled out her phone and showed the doctor a photo. The doctor’s face faltered, his words stumbling in his throat as he hesitated to answer.

"She was the one who went to see him, wasn’t she?"

Dorothy’s tears spilled, flooding her face as she screamed out in agony. Her body was trembling on the edge of collapse, each sob a sharp reminder of her torment.

At last, the doctor, worn down by her relentless questioning, nodded, confirming that Portia had visited the hospital the night before. During her visit, Ivan’s condition had taken a turn for the worse.

Portia.

Dorothy’s vision turned red with fury, her hands trembling so violently that blood began to drip from her clenched fists, falling like a steady stream to the floor below.

Without a second thought, she rushed out of the hospital, her next destination clear. She bought a sharp, bone-cutting knife before heading straight back to Kyrie’s villa.

When she burst into the living room, her ears were pierced by the sound of Portia’s laughter mingling with Kyrie’s, the noise sinking into her heart like a thousand daggers.

"Portia!"

Her shout reverberated through the room as she gripped the knife, her hands shaking with fury. Without hesitation, she lunged at Portia.

"Are you out of your mind, Dorothy?" Portia screamed, narrowly dodging her.

At that moment, Kyrie grabbed the knife, his strong grip halting Dorothy’s charge. The blade bit deep into his wrist, a grimace of pain twisting his face. Fury flared in his eyes as he kicked Dorothy away, sending her crashing to the ground.

Pain exploded in Dorothy’s abdomen, making it impossible for her to rise. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth as she glared at them, her voice hoarse from the agony.

"Portia! Why did you harm my brother?"

Portia hid behind Kyrie, her voice dripping with false innocence. "What are you talking about? I never hurt your brother."

"His heart failed when you visited him at the hospital!" Dorothy’s eyes burned with anger. "You provoked him. You’re a murderer!"

Before she could finish, Kyrie slapped her hard, the sting of the blow sending shockwaves through her already battered body.

Kyrie looked down at Dorothy, his expression dripping with contempt.

"What nonsense are you babbling? A sick man died, big deal."

It felt like a lightning bolt struck Dorothy, her entire body trembling as her voice faltered. "Kyrie, how can you say that? You were once Ivan’s closest friend! You…"

Kyrie cut her off with a cold, twisted smile. "Who cares about being his friend? Now that he’s dead, it's just as well."

Dorothy’s world spun. Her mind went blank and her heart felt like it was being torn to shreds. The pain crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Oh, Kyrie, don’t be so harsh. Dorothy is just heartbroken and acting out," Portia purred, her tone oozing with false sympathy. She approached Dorothy, her hand reaching down to help her up, but her words were sharp as a knife. "Yes, I was the one who killed him. But it’s all your fault, really, you slapped me the other day, remember? So technically, you killed him."

The final thread of Dorothy’s sanity snapped and she crumpled, her mind breaking apart in a wave of overwhelming grief.

Her hands shook uncontrollably as she slowly stood, her legs trembling beneath her. She didn’t utter a single word as she cast one final glance at Kyrie before rushing out of the villa, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Where are you going?!"

Kyrie’s voice was laced with urgency as an uneasy premonition crept into his gut. Without a second thought, he followed her, reaching out to grab her arm.

But Dorothy, summoning every last ounce of strength, broke free, her feet pounding the ground faster and faster.

They reached the sea and Dorothy stood perched on the high rocks, her eyes bloodshot, streaks of tears marking her face like a map of her pain. She turned to face Kyrie, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "Kyrie, you’re so heartless! You promised me forever, but now you’re the one tearing me apart!"

"Do you even know? I wanted to end it all during this time, but I kept going for Ivan. And now… now he’s gone to.”

"Portia is a liar! She's not as innocent as you think! Why are you doing this to me for her?!”

Her voice cracked with desperation, but Kyrie only frowned. "So what? Are you planning to throw yourself into the sea to make a scene or threaten me?"

Behind him, Portia snaked her arm around Kyrie’s, her laughter dripping with mockery. "Sister Dorothy, stop it. This trick won't work on Kyrie. You’re just embarrassing yourself now!"

As Dorothy stood there, the crowd began to form, their whispers and glances prickling her skin.

Kyrie’s brow furrowed, his patience thinning. "Alright, enough. Come down now."

But Dorothy, numb to everything, no longer cared to defend herself. She simply stared at Kyrie and Portia with a cold, unblinking gaze. "I’ll never forgive you both."

With that, she turned, the weight of the world pressing on her chest and leaped into the dark sea.