All eyes instinctively turned to Emma.

Emma stood there in a daze. Before she could figure out what was going on, Jamie called out in a panic, "Sandra!"

Sandra had fainted after seeing the red text. Wesley's face went pale. He picked her up and carried her out of the room to the hospital.

Emma's mind went completely blank. It wasn't until a sharp slap landed across her face that she suddenly snapped back to reality.

Adam was furious, glaring at her with a vein throbbing at his temple. "Where did I go wrong? How did you turn out like this? How could you curse her like that when she's already so ill?"

Emma stumbled back a few steps, knocking over the champagne tower by accident. Alcohol was spilled everywhere.

She fell into the pile of broken glass, wincing in pain as she explained, "It wasn't me."

Adam snapped, "Shut up! You've always been jealous of the attention Sandra gets, but she isn't going to be around much longer. How can you be so heartless? Take this ungrateful wretch out of my sight and lock her up."

…

Emma was shoved into a dark room. She had been afraid of the dark since she was a kid, and her claustrophobia made it worse.

The moment the door slammed shut, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Darkness closed in on her from every direction like a rising tide.

She pounded on the door with her bloodied hands, leaving vivid streaks behind. "Open up. I'm begging you. Let me out."

But there was only silence from the other side. She slowly slid down onto the floor, completely drained. Her chest tightened with each rapid breath.

She had no idea how long had passed. Just as she was about to black out, the door opened, and she crawled out in a rush.

The next moment, a bucket of foul salt water poured down on her. A second bucket followed, and then the third.

Emma choked as she gasped for air. Her vision went fuzzy, but she still managed to make out a familiar figure by the door—Wesley.

He stood on the line between light and shadow, watching coldly as his men threw bucket after bucket of salt water at her. He never once told them to stop until the last bucket was empty.

He slowly walked over to her, bent down, and wiped her cheek with a silk handkerchief. But his words were sharp and cruel. "Sandra is awake. She doesn't blame you for cursing her and forgives you. She even said it wasn't really you who did it, but you were possessed."

He paused. "I had my men prepare the salt water for you. It's supposed to ward off evil spirits, but it won't do anything unless you're soaked in it for 72 hours."

A hint of horror flickered in Emma's eyes. She desperately grabbed Wesley's hand. "I had nothing to do with the crimson words. You have to believe me."

He slowly pried her fingers off his hand, cruel to the last. "Actions have consequences, Emma. Even a child gets that."

Feeling the last bit of warmth leaving her hand, she tried one last time to say something, but it just sounded pitiful and pleading. "Please don't leave me here. I'm afraid of the dark."

His gaze was icy. "What about Sandra? When you wrote the message, did it ever cross your mind that she might be scared too?"

Emma momentarily zoned out, lost in the memory of a thunderstorm years ago. The power went out, and she curled up in the corner, shaking in fear.

Wesley filled the house with candlelight, wrapped her in his arms, and gently rubbed her back. "Don't be scared, Em. I'm right here."

But that same man was the one shoving her into a living nightmare now.

A brutal, wrenching pain seized her belly without warning. She doubled over, her hand flying to her stomach. Then, she felt a warm liquid trickling down her thighs.

It dawned on her that this could be a miscarriage. Trembling, she grabbed his pants, her voice cracking with panic. "I'm bleeding, Wesley. I think I'm losing the baby. I'm begging you. You have to take me to the hospital."

Wesley stopped in his tracks and frowned. "You're not even pregnant. How could you be having a miscarriage?"

Emma was in so much pain that she could barely see. "It's true. I have your baby inside me."

He didn't buy it and snapped before leaving, "Enough! I'll come back for you in three days."

A broken whimper tore from her lips. She scraped her nails against the ground, but her desperate effort wasn't enough to stop him from walking away. Her trembling hand grabbed the empty air before giving up and falling.

She collapsed into the pool of blood. Before fainting, she laughed bitterly.

In that moment, Emma finally saw Wesley for who he truly was.

When Emma came to, she was in a hospital bed.

The doctor sighed and looked at her with pity in her eyes. "You're finally awake. You lost a dangerous amount of blood from the miscarriage. If you had gotten here any later, we wouldn't have been able to bring you back."

Emma learned from the doctor that she had survived because the housekeeper had found her unconscious the next day while delivering food.

"Your family is unbelievable. How could they treat you like this? Your husband, of all people, won't even pick up his phone. When he shows up here, I'm giving him a piece of my mind."

Emma interrupted the doctor, her fingers clutching the sheets, "You can't tell him I was pregnant."

Wesley wouldn't believe her anyway. His heart wasn't with her anymore, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

The doctor looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just shook her head and left.

Wesley couldn't be bothered to visit Emma in the hospital, but he was all over Sandra's social media.

The first day was a close-up of a bowl of chicken soup. The caption read, "Ten years, and it's still my favorite."

The next day, Sandra posted a photo of a man asleep by her bedside. She wrote, "Woke up from a nightmare. There's nothing better than opening my eyes to this."

Emma suddenly remembered that whenever she got sick, Wesley would always make her chicken soup. When she was burning with fever, he would stay by the bed like that too, holding her hand and refusing to let go.

The realization dawned on her. All that care and attention was never for her. He was only loving her because she reminded him of Sandra.

On the day she was discharged, he finally called, "Something urgent with the company came up. I'm sending a chauffeur to pick you up."

She didn't argue or demand an explanation. She just replied flatly, "Alright."

When the call ended, she gently touched her belly.

At this point, Wesley was just a name in Emma's contacts that she was about to delete. She wasn't going to waste any more hope on him.

…

Emma came home to find Sandra in the living room, holding a palette and freely painting all over the wall. All her photos with Wesley were thrown on the floor, splattered with paint.

Seeing Emma, Sandra smirked. "You're back, Em. The wall was begging for a new look. I figured it needed a major upgrade. I hope you don't mind."

Emma glanced at the mess and replied indifferently, "Whatever."

This place hadn't felt like home for ages. It was clear she wasn't going to be the lady of the house much longer.

Just then, Wesley walked out of the kitchen with a plate of cut fruit. He noticed Emma going up the stairs and blocked her path. "Sandra is trying to be the bigger person here. Watch your attitude."

Emma's pale face showed nothing but weariness. "What do you want? Am I supposed to grovel at her feet and thank her for ruining the photos?"

Sandra quickly smoothed things over. "Don't be too hard on her, Wesley. Em doesn't mean it."

Wesley remarked, "If she didn't mean to, then why would she say something so horrible to you?"

He looked at Emma like she was a stranger. "You really let me down, Emma."

She was too drained to argue with him. She shouldered past him and went upstairs. She was still physically wrecked from the abortion.

She had only been lying down for a minute when the door was pushed open.

Sandra appeared in the doorway, her gentle look completely wiped away by outright scorn.

She snickered. "Does it bother you to see Wesley sticking up for me? I warned you that he was just playing games with you. I can't believe you were dumb enough to fall for it."

Emma rolled over. She didn't want to waste her breath and pulled the covers over her head.

But Sandra closed in on Emma, refusing to drop it. "Do you know what everyone is saying about you? Word is you spent four years in bed with your brother-in-law and ended up empty-handed. Even the escorts working in the night scene get paid.

"Stop fooling yourself, Emma. The Payne family doesn't need you. Wesley doesn't want you anymore. You and your mom are both nothing but baggage."

The mention of Helena was the last straw. Emma's head jerked up, and she glared daggers at Sandra. "Why are you so mad? Are you afraid that he actually fell for me over these four years?"

Sandra was momentarily taken aback, then snorted. Her eyes were filled with contempt. "Would he seriously fall for you? If he were truly in love with you, would I have the chance to put you down like this?"

Moments later, a loud bang echoed as the door shut. Emma clutched her sheets, feeling a deep chill settle in.

Luckily, she was getting out of here soon. She wouldn't have to deal with these awful people anymore.

The day before she left the country, Emma went to the church surrounded by giant trees.

Ever since the miscarriage, she had nightmares every night about a baby covered in blood crying out to her. She reached out to a priest to lay the baby's spirit to rest.

But when she got to the church, she saw a tall man kneeling right in the front. She recognized his silhouette immediately.

Someone started, "Didn't you hear? Mr. Coleman's soulmate is terminally ill. He walked all the way up from the base of the mountain to get a blessing for her."

The next person added, "The final stretch is so dangerous that he almost fell right off the cliff. He almost didn't make it."

The murmurs of other people in the church reached Emma.

Emma froze in her tracks. She could see the bandage on Wesley's arm, and blood was already soaking through.

She remembered he didn't believe in God. He never set foot in churches and refused to have any religious icons at home.

He won a rosary from a church at Plefvine at the company party, but he just quickly handed it to his assistant, Skyler Wright.

Even when she wanted to visit Helena's grave, he just stubbed out his cigarette and muttered dismissively, "She's gone. Putting flowers on a grave is just for the living to feel better."

But right now, he was on the cold floor before the altar, groveling like a true believer.

Emma sneered. A wave of bitter irony washed over her.

It turned out that Wesley wasn't an atheist. He just never cared enough to beg for a miracle before.

…

By the time Emma left the church, it was almost sunset. A cool wind blew through the valley, so she wrapped her coat closer.

She was heading down the stone steps when a dark figure darted out from the trees right in front of her.

Everything happened in a flash. Before she could even cry for help, the person covered her face, and she was knocked out cold.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself sitting against a large tree. A few paramedics were frantically rushing a stretcher toward the cliff's edge. "Hurry. The victim is down there."

Emma staggered to her feet. Before she could make sense of anything, a tall figure walked up to her, his presence cold and abrupt.

Wesley snapped, "When you threatened Sandra, I thought it was just anger talking, Emma. I didn't think you would actually push her off a cliff."

He had her by the throat, slamming her back against the tree behind her. "It's a miracle Sandra survived that fall because of the rocks. Otherwise, I would have made you pay with your life."

Her breath caught in her throat. When she met his furious glare, everything suddenly clicked in her mind.

She choked out her words. "I didn't do it."

Wesley's tone was sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't even try to deny it. You and Sandra were both here, and now she's at the bottom of the cliff. How in the world is this just a coincidence, Emma?"

Emma clawed at Wesley's hand, struggling to breathe. Just as she was about to suffocate, Skyler rushed over, panting heavily. "We got her, Mr. Coleman. She's safe."

Hearing that, Wesley immediately let go of Emma and took off running toward Sandra. Emma doubled over, coughing hard.

With blurry vision, she saw Sandra on the stretcher, grabbing Wesley's sleeve. Her face was pale as she murmured, "I'm so scared, Wesley."

Wesley squeezed Sandra's hand and said firmly, "I'm here now. No one is going to hurt you."

He carefully helped her into the ambulance, then turned and said something to Skyler.

The next moment, Skyler came back to Emma, clamping a hand on her arm. "Forgive my offense, Ms. Emma."

Without missing a beat, he dragged her to the edge of the cliff and shoved her over. The feeling of freefall ended abruptly when she landed hard on a rock. The impact sent a brutal pain through her bones.

Looking over the edge, he said coldly, "Mr. Coleman said you went too far this time. This is your punishment. Now you get to feel what Ms. Sandra felt."

The sound of footsteps faded, and she was left by herself.

Her whole body was in agony. She tried climbing up a few times, gritting her teeth through the pain. But she just couldn't make it.

Emma curled up on the cold rocks, feeling completely overwhelmed by despair. She wanted to confront Wesley. Why would she try to kill Sandra when she was already dying?

Deep down, she knew the truth, and it was even colder than the freezing mountain wind.

In Wesley's eyes, she would never measure up to Sandra, and he would never believe a word she said.

…

With no cell service up in the mountains, Emma knew she couldn't just wait around to be rescued. She forced herself to get up.

Her nails dug into the cracks in the rock, her palms scraping raw. She fell over and over, but she kept pulling herself back up.

She pushed through failure after failure, leaving her battered and bloodied. In the end, she finally climbed back up.

With the gondola closed for the night, Emma had to drag her beaten-up body all the way down the mountain. By the time she got home, the sun was starting to come up.

She barely managed to clean her wounds before collapsing into bed and passing out.

She was still groggy when the door flew open. The next thing she knew, she was yanked out of bed and thrown onto the cold floor.