Elliot's expression shifted. "I'll be right there."

He hung up and said to Elyse, "Look around for a bit. I'll be back soon. Talk to my assistant if you need anything."

Then he turned and left quickly.

"Elliot!"

Elyse stamped her foot, nearly losing her delicate composure.

Where was he rushing off to so eagerly? To see that bitch Amelia?

No, impossible. Elliot hated Amelia.

And soon she would be Mrs. Hardin. Amelia would be nothing.

When Elliot learned that the location was a hospital, his brow furrowed. "She's here?"

His subordinate chose his words carefully. "Yes, sir. Miss Mcpherson... doesn't look well."

Elliot stopped walking, his eyes turning cold. "You're being reassigned. Ten years out of the country. Don't come back."

The man's face stiffened, but he didn't dare object. "Yes, sir."

After the boss walked away, a colleague muttered, "You know how he feels about anyone defending her. Watch yourself."

In the hospital room, Amelia had just woken up. The college student who had lent her the phone was still there.

"You're awake! Oh, thank God. You coughed up so much blood and passed out. You didn't have any emergency contacts, so I brought you here."

"Thank... you."

"No problem. Um..." The student hesitated, then continued, "I'd like to do a good deed without asking for anything, but I'm a student too. When they brought you in, I had to use my tuition money to pay your bill-it also covered your previous balance. So... could you pay me back?"

Amelia froze, then said apologetically, "I'm... sorry. How much... total? I'll... pay you back."

The student breathed a sigh of relief. "Not too much. Sixty-eight hundred dollars. You can just transfer it to me."

Sixty-eight hundred dollars.

Amelia's breath caught. To her, it might as well have been a fortune.

Once upon a time, she had had more allowance than she could spend, buying every new luxury item without a second thought.

Now she couldn't even afford life-saving medicine.

"Um... do you have it?"

Amelia didn't. But she knew she couldn't not pay this girl back.

"Can you... wait two days? I promise... I'll pay you."

She would find a way. Even if she had to sell her blood.

The student looked like she was about to cry. "I can't wait. My tuition is due tomorrow."

Before Amelia could say *I don't have any money right now*, her eyes caught a figure standing in the doorway. Her body went rigid.

Elliot stood there. She didn't know how long he had been watching.

She forced the words out. "Elliot... Mr. Hardin."

He strode into the room, his eyes sharp and mocking. "Amelia, you're better at hiding than a rat. Did you forget what I said?"

He had said he would send her back to the rehabilitation center.

Her face drained of color. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "No... that's not... I wasn't hiding from you. I passed out. When I woke up... you were gone. I had no phone... nothing."

Elliot found her halting speech irritating.

Was she putting on an act for someone? She hadn't had a stutter before. Now she was pretending to be a victim!

He cut her off. "Enough. I don't want to hear your nonsense. Take her back."

The last part was to his men.

Two men stepped forward and dragged her off the bed.

Amelia struggled desperately. "No! I won't go! Don't... don't touch me!"

Fear-carved into her bones-gave her a burst of strength. She shoved one of the men away. In her panic, she collided with an IV stand. It toppled, and the sharp hook at the top swung straight toward Elliot.

He stepped back quickly, but the hook still grazed the side of his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

The men gasped. "Boss!"

Amelia went white as a sheet, nearly collapsing to her knees. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't... mean to!"

Her terror peaked. Her mind lost all reason. She dropped to her knees and began kowtowing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

It was a conditioned reflex-trained into her.

Elliot touched his neck. It stung. His fingers came away with blood.

He rarely got hurt.

The rage building inside him shifted into another kind of disgust when he saw her like this.

"Get up."

She scrambled to her feet, then nearly fell again as pain shot through her knees.

Her cowering posture only irritated him more. "Take her away."

The college student, who had been watching in shock, finally found her voice. "Wait! How can you do this? She's really sick! Why are you being so mean to her?"

Elliot's gaze slowly turned to her-sharp as a blade. "Sick?"

The student was intimidated by his handsome but harsh face, but she pressed on. "Yes! She's sick! Really sick!"

Elliot's lips curled into a cold smile. "What kind of sick? Heart disease? Stomach problems? Or maybe depression? Bipolar disorder?"

With every word, Amelia's body trembled more. Her eyes were full of despair.

The student was confused. "What?"

"How much did she pay you?"

"Huh?"

"Nice acting."

The student understood. "You think I'm an actress? No! She's really sick! The doctor said-"

Elliot picked up the medical chart lying on the bedside table and flipped through it casually. He laughed. "Lung cancer this time? That's new. You're getting more creative. And the props are convincing."

Whether it was the paid extras or the fake chart, she had upped her game.

But her nature hadn't changed.

Amelia swayed, forcing down the metallic taste rising in her throat. Her voice shook. "I'm... not lying. I'm really... sick."

"Do I need to remind you about the time you faked a stomach ulcer by making yourself throw up? Or when you slit your wrists to get me to come home? Or the car accident you staged-ramming into a barrier to put yourself in the hospital? You make me sick, Amelia."

Each word cut like a knife.

And she couldn't deny any of it.

She had done all those things.

During the years when she loved him most-obsessively, like a madwoman-she had done anything to get his attention.

Stalking. Harassing. Faking illness. Attempted suicide. Everything.

Everyone in their circle thought she was a rabid dog.

Of course he hated her.

But now... she didn't dare love him anymore. She didn't want his love. She knew she was wrong. But he wouldn't let her go.

Elliot tore the chart in half. "Enough of these games. It's time to go back."

Go back where?

Back to Westcliff.

The last glimmer of light in her eyes went out. She stopped struggling.

He thought it was because she had been caught.

His men took her away.

Just before she left, she gathered her courage and said, "Can you... give me... some money?"

Elliot stopped walking. The air pressure in the room dropped.

"Just a little... please?"

The moment his eyes turned to her, Amelia regretted it.

She shouldn’t have asked him.

But the words were out. She had to finish.

She didn’t want to die owing anyone.

“Amelia, say that again.”

“Give—no, no. Lend. Lend me… some money. Just sixty-eight hundred dollars. Please?”

Sixty-eight hundred dollars wouldn’t even buy one button off his shirt.

But it could save her life.

Elliot’s gaze turned icy cold. “Lend? What will you use to pay me back?”

She froze. Her hands slowly clenched at her sides. She had nothing.

The money she had saved, the funds, the properties—all taken back by the Rollins family and put in Elyse’s name after her identity was exposed.

And the jewelry that had been left for her? Her biological parents had sold it.

Her lips trembled for a long moment before she finally forced out, “I can… sell…”

Before she could say *blood*, Elliot’s expression changed—turned terrifying.

“Amelia, you really are that cheap.”

Rage burned hotter inside him.

The woman who had once been so proud—who had stalked him, cornered him, sabotaged his business deals—was now willing to sell her body for sixty-eight hundred dollars?

Had she changed? Or was this her true nature?

“No… that’s not… you misunderstood. I meant sell—”

She tried to explain, but the more flustered she got, the more she stammered.

The next moment, his hand gripped her chin, forcing her head up to meet his suddenly close face.

His eyes gleamed with cold fury, flaying her inch by inch.

“Sixty-eight hundred for a night? Hah. You’re not worth that much.”

Shame crashed over her.

Her eyes reddened. She opened her mouth to explain, then realized—it didn’t matter what she said. He had already decided what kind of person she was.

All she had done these years was explain. Explain misunderstandings. Explain right and wrong. Explain cause and effect.

No one ever believed her.

She fell silent, her head drooping, her eyes hollow.

He took her silence as admission. Rage surged higher.

Then he laughed—a cold, humorless laugh. “Fine. I’ll give you the money.”

She stirred, looking up at him with a flicker of hope.

“You. Come here.”

Elliot called over one of his men and said flatly, “Kiss him.”

The room went dead silent.

Amelia’s shoulders shook. She thought she had misheard.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted? Can’t do it?”

He was still humiliating her.

The last shred of her dignity was ground under his heel.

But then… she stopped caring.

She had lost her innocence long ago. She wouldn’t live much longer. What did it matter who she kissed?

She limped forward, one step at a time, toward the bodyguard.

The man broke out in a cold sweat, frantically looking at his boss, praying he would take back the order.

This was insane. No matter what, Miss Mcpherson was still his wife in name. How could he do this?

When she stood in front of the bodyguard and slowly rose onto her toes, about to kiss him—

Elliot’s eyes grew darker and darker, fixed on her.

“Enough! You’ve gone too far!”

The college student who had been silent until now rushed over and pulled Amelia away, stopping the whole ugly scene.

Elliot’s hand, which had been half raised, dropped back to his side. He shoved it into his pocket, his expression cold.

“How can you humiliate her like this?”

The student, full of righteous indignation, couldn’t stomach it.

Amelia was terrified that she would be dragged into this. She knew too well what Elliot was capable of. If he targeted this girl, she was done for.

“I’m… fine. It’s okay. Don’t… don’t get involved!”

“You’re really sick! And he’s doing this to you! Isn’t he your—”

Before she could say *husband*, Amelia clamped a hand over her mouth.

Her face was ashen. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please… don’t blame her. I’m sorry.”

Elliot’s lips curled. “The extra you hired has a lot of nerve.”

Amelia’s breath caught. She knew he held grudges. He wouldn’t let this student off.

She gritted her teeth and shoved the girl hard. “Go! Get out! You don’t… have to pretend anymore. Just go. I’ll pay you… later. Go!”

The student tried to protest, but when she met Amelia’s eyes, she stopped.

They were pleading—desperately.

And in her hand, Amelia pressed something heavy. It felt like gold.

Finally, the student left.

Amelia barely managed to stay on her feet. She forced back her tears and murmured, “You’re right. I was… acting. I lied. I’m sorry. Blame me… not her.”

She was already covered in filth. A little more didn’t matter.

Elliot was unsurprised. “Four years in there, and you haven’t changed at all.”

She nodded numbly. “Yes. I was… wrong. I admit it.”

The more she gave in, the more unsettled he felt.

He told himself it was disappointment.

She was rotten to the core. Spoiled. Willful. Even after her true identity was exposed, she hadn’t changed. She still tried to take everything Elyse had.

Status. Love. The token. Everything.

He had been disappointed and disgusted, so he sent her to Westcliff.

Westcliff Rehabilitation Center was well-known. Its treatments were scientific, safe, and effective. It had an excellent reputation.

He had personally looked into the facility. It was as good as any Nursing home—with reasonable programs. And it was expensive.

But she didn’t appreciate it. She came out and went right back to her dirty tricks.

“Take her away.”

His men escorted her out.

They had barely left when a doctor arrived with police officers.

“She was in here. She’s covered in injuries. Severe. It must be domestic abuse. And she’s missing—”

But the room was empty.

Before sending Amelia back to Westcliff, they stopped by the city clerk’s office to file for divorce.

Unfortunately, it was the weekend. No one was working.

Elliot frowned and looked at Amelia. His voice was cold. “Monday. You’ll stay with the Rollins family until then. Don’t do anything stupid.”

She didn’t respond.

He didn’t need her response. He had her taken back to the Rollins house.

When Elyse learned that the divorce wasn’t finalized yet, anxiety prickled inside her. “Elliot, are you sure you’re not having second thoughts about my sister? If you are, I don’t mind. I’ll step aside.”

His expression softened. “Don’t overthink it. The office was closed for the weekend. We’ll handle it Monday.”

Elyse pouted, putting on a coy expression. “Are you sure it’s not a problem for you?”

“No. Don’t worry.”

Amelia tried not to look at that scene—tried not to see the rare gentleness on Elliot’s face.

Elliot Hardin had always been aloof and cold to everyone, harsh and hostile to her. But with Elyse, he showed a tenderness he never showed anyone else.

She swallowed her bitterness and dared not feel jealous.

Elliot had other business. He left Amelia behind.

As soon as he was gone, Elyse dropped her fragile act and showed her true malice.

“Amelia, look at yourself. You look like a beggar. What do you have to compete with me?”

She stepped closer, sniffed exaggeratedly, and made a face. “You stink! Don’t you dare come inside. You can stay out there.”

Elyse pointed at the doghouse by the gate, her eyes full of mockery.

Amelia didn't move.

Elyse's eyes slowly hardened. "Not moving?"

Amelia's numb gaze slowly focused. She said hoarsely, "I will... get a divorce. And I'll leave... here."

"Of course you'll get a divorce! And of course you'll leave! What, do you still think you're the Rollins family's precious daughter? That anyone will protect you? Dream on. You're nothing but a dog at my feet. And when I tell you to sleep in the doghouse, you sleep in the doghouse."

Such insults no longer stirred any emotion in Amelia.

At the rehabilitation center, she had heard far worse.

Seeing no reaction, Elyse felt a flicker of frustration. She leaned in close and whispered,

"How did you like the taste of men?"

Amelia's head shot up, her face pale. "You..."

"I told the director, you know. I said you were a slut who couldn't go a day without a man. That they needed to keep you satisfied. Make sure you got pregnant over and over. Miscarry over and over. Hee hee hee."

Her already numb heart clenched.

During those four years, night after night, what she had feared most wasn't the daily torture or the electric shocks. It was the lock on her door being forced open at nightfall.

The outwardly respectable director. The strong, burly orderlies. They were everywhere.

To avoid being violated, she had made herself vomit until her entire body was covered in filth-destroying her esophagus and giving her severe stomach problems.

Some orderlies didn't care about the vomit. When they tried to tear off her clothes anyway, she had bitten off part of her tongue, nearly dying.

Afraid she would actually die, they had given her emergency treatment and saved her life. But she was left with a stutter.

After that, they didn't dare use force on her.

But that didn't stop their cruelty. They started drugging her with the strongest aphrodisiacs.

A nurse at the center, who felt sorry for her, secretly gave her a drug that prolonged her periods-at the cost of damaging her body.

She had taken it for four years. The result: she could never have children.

All because of Elyse. Because of a few casual words from her.

She had destroyed Amelia's entire life.

Rage surged back. Amelia couldn't stop shaking. Her face was bloodless.

And the more she shook, the more excited Elyse became, fanning the flames. "You were never clean anyway. What's a few more times? You're just a worn-out whore who's been ridden by a thousand men."

The fragile wall Amelia had built crumbled again.

"You... should die!"

Amelia raised her hand to slap Elyse.

"Stop!"

Before she could even touch Elyse's hair, someone grabbed her wrist and shoved her hard.

She fell onto the gravel path, scraping her palms. Tiny stones embedded themselves in her flesh. She gasped in pain.

"Amelia! What are you doing?"

A familiar voice.

Amelia slowly looked up. One word rolled out of her mouth, slowly. "Spencer."

The person who had arrived was Spencer Rollins, the eldest son of the Rollins family-the brother who had once doted on her.

The only one who had still been kind to her when her true identity was exposed.

Unfortunately, when Elliot sent her to Westcliff, Spencer had been abroad for further studies. He couldn't save her.

Now, seeing her brother, Amelia felt like she had found a lifeline. She struggled to her feet and reached for his hand, just like when they were children. "Spencer, you're... back. I... I..."

Before she could touch his hand, he pulled away.

She grabbed nothing. She stood there, stunned.

Spencer looked anxiously at Elyse. "Elyse, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Elyse's eyes reddened. She shook her head pitifully. "I'm fine, Spencer. Don't worry. Sister didn't mean it."

Spencer turned to Amelia, frowning deeply. "If I hadn't arrived just now, what were you going to do? Hit her? Is this how you were raised?"

Each question hit her like a hammer.

She looked at her brother's disappointed eyes, then at the protective way he held Elyse. She understood.

Four years had passed. Her brother was no longer her brother.

The Spencer who had once said, "Even if we're not blood-related, Amelia will always be my sister," existed only in the past.

Her parents, the man she loved, the brother she respected-they were all on the other side now.

She stood there swaying, unable to stop coughing.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough-"

Once it started, it wouldn't stop.

Her face grew whiter and whiter.

Spencer's expression tightened. He instinctively moved to steady her.

"Ah! I'm so dizzy! Spencer, I feel terrible!"

Elyse cried out in pain and swayed, then closed her eyes and collapsed.

"Elyse!"

Spencer scooped Elyse into his arms and hurried outside. "Don't be scared. I'll take you to the hospital."

He brushed past Amelia without looking back.

If he had looked back-just once-he would have seen the drops of blood on the ground and her nearly translucent face.

But he didn't.

Amelia coughed until she doubled over. A large mouthful of thick, dark red blood pooled in her palm.

She stared at it blankly.

She might not live another three months.

But she couldn't die yet. There were things she had to do. She couldn't die now.

She wanted to live.

That day, the entire Rollins family went to the hospital to be with Elyse.

When they had brought Elyse home four years ago, they discovered she had a congenital heart defect. Because she had missed the optimal treatment window, it would never be cured.

She couldn't exercise strenuously. She suffered from intermittent chest pain and shortness of breath. And there was always the risk that an attack could kill her.

That made the Rollins family feel even more guilty.

Mrs. Rollins held her daughter's hand, her eyes red, and sobbed, "It's all our fault. If you hadn't been switched at birth, Elyse would be healthy. This wouldn't have happened."

Mr. Rollins looked at Spencer. "Your sister's condition..."

Spencer shook his head silently. "All we can do is manage it with medication. We need to keep her emotions stable. Nothing that might stress her heart."

Spencer was a surgeon with an excellent record-and Elyse's primary physician.

That was why he knew how serious her condition was. And his guilt grew every day.

Elyse chose that moment to wake up. She said weakly, "Dad, Mom, Spencer... I'm sorry for worrying you."

Mrs. Rollins' heart ached even more. "Silly child, don't say that. It's our fault you suffered."

Mr. Rollins said sternly, "Amelia has gone too far! She actually tried to hit someone! No, she can't stay in this house. Send her back to the rehabilitation center immediately."

Elyse's heart jumped. Back? No, she couldn't go back now. The divorce wasn't final yet.

"Dad, sister didn't mean it. And she just got home. You can't kick her out. She'll be heartbroken."

Mr. Rollins sighed. "Even now, you're still defending her? You're too kind-hearted."

"Sister has had a hard life. If I hadn't come back, she wouldn't be so miserable. It's only natural she hates me. I'm sick, and I'm a burden to you and Mom."

Mrs. Rollins hugged her tightly. Whatever sympathy she might have felt for the daughter she had raised for twenty years vanished.

"This isn't your fault. She owes you. You're the one who's sick, and she's perfectly healthy. How dare she hurt you? She's the one in the wrong."

Elyse hid a contemptuous smile behind her mother's shoulder. Her heart condition really was the perfect weapon. She loved it.

How else could she have turned Spencer to her side?

What she wanted was for Amelia to be utterly alone-abandoned by everyone.