My soul quaked in the hollow silence, screaming without a sound, 'She deserves this… but what about me? For a year, I let the drug eat my body from the inside. Then, I was buried alive. For two years, I rotted in the dark. What did I endure it all for?'

But Kip couldn't hear me. He was too busy sliding a hand around Jen's waist, bending her backward into a deep, possessive kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he cradled her face, his eyes blazing. "I'm going to give you the wedding of the century. I want the whole world to watch you become my wife."

Jen cast her eyes down in a show of fragile hesitation. "But you… you were supposed to be Sylvia's. People are already talking. If we make it more public, I'm afraid—"

Kip pressed a finger to her lips, his voice dropping to a low, vehement promise. "I want them to talk. I want everyone to know you're the strongest, most selfless woman I've ever met. The only one worthy of standing beside me."

Then he reached into a hidden compartment in our booth—our booth—and pulled out a velvet box. Inside, a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg glinted under the lights.

He dropped to one knee, his gaze a furnace of devotion. "Jen. Marry me."

The vision lanced through my spectral form.

I was thrown back to three years ago, under this same chandelier. The same man, in the same spot, on the same knee.

"Sylvia," he'd said, voice thick with emotion, "you're the only person I have ever wanted to marry."

Now, my ring was buried in the rot of my own corpse, forgotten.

And he was offering a new one to my murderer.

The memories surged—jagged and vivid.

I saw Jen at the gates of the research institute years ago, in worn-out jeans, her eyes red and swimming.

"Sylvia," she'd wept, bowing deeply, "without you, I'd never have been allowed inside a place like this…"

Her thin frame had shook with sobs. "You're like a second mother to me."

I'd laughed, tousling her mousy hair. "Don't be silly. From today, you're my little sister."

Kip had wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my head, his laughter vibrating through me. "My Sylvia has the softest heart in the world."

His lips had brushed my ear. "Someone as good as you deserves every beautiful thing life has to offer."

I'd batted him away, flushed and smiling. "Stop it. It was nothing."

I knew the brutal cost of research. I'd lived it. So when I saw the desperate hunger in Jen's eyes, I'd opened my hand without a second thought.

"Come work in my lab."

Back then, she was all deference and awe, handling every file as if it were sacred scripture. I remember her first day in a lab coat, plucking at the stiff fabric, asking in a small voice, "Sylvia… do I even belong here?"

But what followed? She was a creeping vine, slowly, patiently strangling the host tree. My open invitation became her unwavering entitlement.

At my mother's sixtieth birthday party, she'd thrown herself to the floor with a dramatic thud, forehead pressed to the tile.

"Godmother! You are my real mother now!"

My mother had stared, bewildered. I was speechless at the audacity. But when I felt the rough calluses on Jen's palms—a testament to a harder life—my resolve softened.

"Mom," I'd said, "just accept her. What's one more daughter to love?"

Soon, she was calling out to my brother with a sweetness that put my own casual tone to shame.

She lavished attention on Kip—little gifts, trinkets, a clumsily knitted scarf.

My mother would tug my sleeve, whispering, "Jen's intensity… it unsettles me."

My brother would shudder. "She linked arms with me today. Gave me the chills."

Even Kip grew uncomfortable, confessing, "She brings me lunch every day. It's getting hard to politely refuse."

Every time, I made excuses.

"Jen had a difficult childhood. She's just expressing gratitude.

"Don't overthink it. Just be kind."

How stunningly naive I was. What a perfect, tragic fool.

I had built a nest of warmth and opportunity, and the viper I sheltered used it to learn where to strike. She weaponized my own compassion, biding her time until she could steal everything.

My legacy. My family. My love. My life.

And I—

Even my bones are condemned as a traitor's, fit only for the flames of a pauper's pyre.

My soul ached as if countless hands were tearing it apart. In a daze, I felt as though I'd been dragged back to two years ago.

Back then, the virus was raging, and the hospitals were overflowing with patients.

My parents and my brother ran the largest pharmaceutical company in the country, yet even they were powerless against this new virus.

There was no miracle drug, no mature treatment plan—only the helpless sight of one infected patient after another collapsing.

Half a year later, the bad news came in waves—

Kip. My parents. My brother. They had all been infected. They were rushed to the research institute where I worked and placed in emergency isolation.

The hallways were packed with desperate families. Relatives clutched at the sleeves of doctors and nurses, crying and pleading, "Please save them! We're begging you!"

Inside the wards, painful groans echoed. The alarms of the monitoring equipment rose and fell without pause.

I stood outside the glass, staring at their pale faces, my heart carving itself apart.

Suddenly, I remembered something my mentor had once said, "If we can find a naturally immune blood sample, it might speed up the research…"

A terrifying thought flashed through my mind—

As their closest contact, I had never been infected. Did that mean… I was the naturally immune blood sample?

That thought circled my mind for three days. In the end, I made up my mind.

I stormed into the lab, found the director of the institute, and said—my voice trembling, but firm, "Let me join the human trials. I'll be the test subject."

The director, whose hair had long since turned white from stress, snapped his head up and scolded harshly, "Nonsense! This violates regulations. We can't let you take that kind of risk!"

For the first time, I lost control and shouted back, "People are dying by the minute! One day sooner means countless more lives saved!"

That scene was witnessed by my mentor standing not far away.

He watched me in silence, his gaze complicated.

Later, I begged him again and again. The last time, he let out a long, heavy sigh. As he turned away, a key "accidentally" slipped from the pocket of his white coat.

It was the access key to the underground laboratory.

I began my secret work, but the intensity of the experiments was far beyond anything I'd imagined.

Constant blood draws, drug testing, data logging, dosage adjustments… they drained almost every last bit of my strength.

With no other choice, I brought Jen in as my assistant.

To ensure the integrity of the data, I had a microchip implanted in my body to continuously record my vital signs and external conditions.

And so, I endured half a year in that sunless laboratory…

Finally, I succeeded.

In the second before I completely lost consciousness, I handed the formula and sample of the miracle drug to Jen.

Back then, she cried like a rain-soaked flower.

"Don't worry, Sylvia. I'll make sure this medicine saves everyone…"

Now, looking back, she hadn't been lying.

She did save everyone.

She just took the drug I'd risked my life to create and claimed it as her own.

She saved everyone… except me.

Only now did I finally understand that she had never been a helpless sheep. She was a vicious wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Just as that realization settled in, a wave of cheering exploded in my ears, growing louder and louder.

"Marry him! Marry him!"

The next second, Jen covered her mouth, as if she couldn't withstand the sudden happiness.

After a long pause, she seemed to finally make up her mind, her voice trembling with shy emotion, "I… I will."

I watched with my own eyes as my fiancé and the woman who killed me kissed in front of everyone.

My soul was flayed by a dull blade, the pain so deep I felt it might shatter me apart—

That was supposed to be my beloved. My life.

The agony left me barely able to stand. Even the crystal chandelier above began to sway violently.

The scattered light and shadows trembled like my shattered hatred—quivering, unseen by anyone…

My body had never been cremated.

The excavation workers, afraid of taking responsibility, secretly reported it to the police.

That unintentional act became my greatest stroke of luck.

When the forensic pathologist cut open my body, everyone gasped in shock—

Sealed in cement, my corpse had been preserved, delaying decomposition.

Though the skin had decayed, the muscles and bones remained intact.

But almost all my blood had been drained. My body was so emaciated it was barely human, and even the bone marrow bore repeated puncture marks…

"This isn't a deserter," the pathologist said, voice trembling. "This body endured inhuman abuse. This… this was a live experiment!"

The lead detective furrowed his brow, his expression grave.

"From the current evidence, it's reasonable to suspect the miracle drug research went wrong—this is no accidental death. Contact the research institute immediately and confirm the victim's identity."

But they had no idea—

Ever since I had been labeled a "traitor," the institute had destroyed all records of me overnight.

And Jen, that thief who rose atop my bones, had stolen not only my achievement in developing the miracle drug but even claimed my unpublished papers as her own.

In just two years, she greedily consumed everything I had accomplished in the medical field—everything that was mine had become hers.

The police combed the DNA database like looking for a needle in a haystack, finally piecing together my identity.

When the test results appeared, the entire conference room fell into a stunned silence so deep you could hear the pause in everyone's breathing.

The veteran commissioner slammed his hand on the table, shaking the teacups.

"Seal all records! Anyone who leaks a single word of this case is off this badge and going to jail!"

He swept his gaze over the room and said, "Start with the victim's identity. Investigate everyone involved, thoroughly!"

Under the commissioner's personal supervision, the investigation team moved with ruthless efficiency, summoning the core figures from the research institute—my mentor, Dr. Robert Thorne.

I hovered above the interrogation room, my chest heavy as if filled with lead, struggling to breathe.

Dr. Thorne had guided me from undergrad through my doctorate, sharing ten years of teaching. He had secretly slipped me chocolate when I stayed up late doing experiments, a kindly elder. He had been my fatherly guide in my academic journey…

He knew the truth—so why hadn't he spoken up for me?

Why had he allowed Jen to steal my research, twist the facts, and nail me to the pillar of shame?

Just then, an investigator burst in, urgency in his voice, "Dr. Thorne passed away two years ago from the virus. Regrettably, he poured his heart and soul into the miracle drug for nearly three years, only to fall a month before its release."

No wonder… Jen's plans had gone off without a hitch.

Even Dr. Thorne's death had been part of her scheme.

Now, the only living person who could prove my innocence was the murderer currently kissing my fiancé.

As despair nearly consumed me, the forensic pathologist suddenly shouted, "Wait! What… what is this?!"

Everyone's gaze locked onto his trembling hand—a tiny microchip glinting with cold light.

It was deeply embedded along the inside of a rib, deliberately hidden in the most secret spot.

"It's a storage chip!" one of the tech experts exclaimed, excitement cracking his voice. "Though it's been corroded by tissue preservative, it might still hold data!"

The team leader's eyes sharpened instantly.

"Seal the scene immediately! This is top secret!"

He turned to the technical specialists and said, "No matter the cost, no matter the time, even if we can recover only a single byte of data—retrieve it!"

Watching the blood-stained chip being carefully placed into an evidence bag, I thought I could hear the gears of fate begin to turn again.

Two years…

Over seven hundred days and nights of injustice and bitterness had finally caught a glimmer of hope.