When my Prince shattered our Eternal Blood Vow for the ninety-ninth time, I dragged my drained, broken body to the Tribunal of Vows.

"I am here to request the dissolution of my Eternal Blood Vow with the Prince of the Kindred."

Ten minutes later, Damien stormed in with Isabella in tow.

The Prince of the Kindred strode toward me, his hand shooting out to clamp around my neck before he slammed me against a cold marble pillar.

"You'd go so far as to dissolve our vow just because you're jealous of Isabella's promotion? Has the bloodlust driven you completely insane?"

My mother Eleanor's voice echoed icily through our bond. "Forging lab results to play the victim, all for his attention. You've always been so deceitful."

Tears of blood welled in Isabella's eyes as she tugged on Damien's arm. "I'm so sorry, Seraphina. I never should have accepted this position. Please, stop putting yourself—and the Prince—through this!"

I wiped away the tears of blood seeping from my eyes and faced the tribunal official once more.

"I no longer have the protection of a clan. So that I may turn to ash in three days, please help me complete the dissolution ceremony."

I walked through the doors of the Tribunal of Vows for the last time.

The sharp obsidian steps stung the soles of my feet, and with every step, a sharp pain shot through my chest, as if my very veins were freezing solid.

The final stage of Bloodline Depletion had destroyed my regenerative abilities, making even the simple act of walking an agony.

"I am here to request the dissolution of my Eternal Blood Vow with the Prince."

The tribunal official looked at my ashen face with sympathetic eyes and asked in a low voice,

"Miss, do you not have a clan's protection?"

In all the years of our vow, Damien never promised me a true bonding ceremony, nor did he ever bring me to public gatherings.

As a result, very few among the Kindred even knew of my existence.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I cut him off. "A vampire about to turn to ash has no need for protection."

Just as the words left my mouth, the doors of the Tribunal were violently thrown open.

Damien's roar echoed throughout the hall. "Seraphina! What kind of game are you playing?"

I turned to see the fury blazing in his crimson eyes.

Behind him, Isabella glided in, a mask of perfect concern on her face.

"You had to pull a stunt like this today of all days?" Damien rushed before me in a few strides. "Isabella was just promoted to Vice President of the Nightfall Group. The entire clan is celebrating her, and you choose today to create this scene?"

He raised his hand, and a surge of his power sent me flying. My back slammed hard against the marble wall.

Once, my power had been as strong as Damien's, but now, I was too weak to block even the most basic pain. My entire body ached from the impact.

A bitter smile touched my lips. In all my centuries as a vampire, I never thought that on the verge of my death, I would be reacquainted with the long-forgotten sensation of pain.

It took me a few seconds to remember what day it was. Isabella's promotion party.

Damien had specifically canceled a two-day negotiation with the European elders just to celebrate her ascension to the company's executive ranks.

And I, his Vow-mate, dying from the final stages of Bloodline Depletion, was berated for 'causing a scene' simply for sending a desperate plea for help through our bond.

Tears blurred my vision, but I fought to keep them from falling.

Just as I was about to speak, I felt a violent surge of chaos in my bloodline's energy, and blood uncontrollably trickled from the corner of my lips. The droplets splattered on the floor, blossoming like deep crimson flowers on the white marble.

Clinging to one last shred of hope, I managed to steady myself and tried to explain, my voice trembling, "Damien, I really didn't…"

Damien must have seen the blood seeping from my lips, because his brow furrowed slightly.

Isabella's gentle voice chimed in at the perfect moment. "But sister, the Prince rushed over specifically to help you with your troubles…"

"I told you not to bother with her. She's nothing but trouble," my mother Eleanor's voice came through our bond.

"She's used every dirty trick in the book to get our attention since she was a fledgling. Does she really expect us to fall for such a clumsy performance now?"

Damien's expression turned to ice in an instant. "Seraphina, you'd go so far as to harm yourself just to lure me here and ruin Isabella's celebration?"

He advanced on me, his fingers clamping onto my chin. Isabella rushed to pull at his arm.

Tears filled Isabella's eyes as she looked at me with feigned helplessness, her voice trembling with a pleading tone.

"I'm sorry, sister. I shouldn't have accepted this position, it's all my fault! Please, stop torturing yourself!

"The Prince has already worried himself sick over you. If you can truly repent, I swear I'll never accept another honor again!"

Her every word was a dagger to my heart, pushing me further into the abyss, painting me as the venomous aggressor.

Though it wasn't the first time I'd witnessed this touching display between them, my heart still felt as if it were being carved out with a wooden stake each time.

It had been a long time since I'd felt the maternal love that should have been mine. Now, it was all poured onto Isabella.

But it didn't matter anymore. When you're dying, you tend to see many things with a new clarity.

My heart was a barren wasteland. The energy in my bloodline roiled once more, and more blood spilled from my lips.

Damien snatched the blood test report from my hand. After a quick scan, he sneered, "Bloodline Depletion? You can't even fake an illness convincingly."

The sound of tearing paper filled the silence.

The report was torn to shreds, the scraps of paper fluttering down at my feet.

His cold gaze lingered on my colorless lips for half a second.

As our eyes met, I remembered the deep crimson pools that had once shone with adoration during our First Embrace a century ago, now as dull and lifeless as stagnant water.

I raised a trembling hand to wipe away the blood, my body swaying as I turned back to the tribunal official.

"I no longer have the protection of a clan. So that I may turn to ash in three days, please help me complete the dissolution ceremony."

Damien's body shuddered slightly. He grabbed my wrist. "You'd drag the Tribunal's officials into your little drama just to ruin Isabella's party!" His voice was laced with fury. "This is absurd!

"Seraphina, I advise you to come back with me immediately. Don't stand here and humiliate yourself."

With his arm around Isabella's waist, Damien turned and walked toward the door without a backward glance.

I looked at my reddened wrist and shook my head with a small, bitter laugh.

I should have known. He would never believe me, would he?

Fighting through the discomfort wracking my body, I unilaterally completed the application process for the dissolution.

The moment my body turns to ash, the dissolution decree will automatically appear on Damien's desk.

In the last seventy-two hours of my life, I severed the sanguine bond that had drained me dry.

And my husband, the Prince of the Kindred, was holding another woman, raising a glass to her glory.

I dragged my dying body back to the manor, stumbling with every step. I had no intention of turning to ash here.

I only wanted to take with me the last traces of my existence.

I found there was nothing left to pack.

I pushed open the door to my former perfumery, only to find it had long been converted into a cold storage room.

My perfumer's organ had been shoved into a corner, covered in a thick layer of dust.

The essential oils and scent strips I had once so carefully blended were all tossed haphazardly into cardboard boxes.

Only the black walnut worktable remained in its original spot, but its surface was buried under a pile of junk.

In a corner lay a shattered crystal vial, containing the last remnants of the only gift Damien ever gave me for our First Embrace: a drop of low-grade, desiccated blood amber.

I sat at the table and reached out, brushing the dust from its surface. My fingertips froze as they touched a picture frame.

It was a photo of us from our First Embrace ceremony. In the picture, I wore a pure white silk gown, and there was still a light in my eyes.

Now, the face reflected in the glass was marred by dark, spidery veins, and my pupils held nothing but the stillness of despair.

Even Isabella's dressing room was four or five times more luxurious than this storage space.

Only the things she no longer wanted were tossed in here.

The chambers I should have shared with my Vow-mate had been converted into Isabella's private office a century ago.

It had the finest equipment, the most comfortable environment.

And I, the rightful wife, had been exiled to this windowless storage room.

The piercing ring of a cellphone suddenly shattered the dead silence, violently yanking me from my memories.

"Hello, this is Elysian Crypts Eternal Rest," a graceful female voice said. "Miss Seraphina, are you still in need of the 'Twilight Ash Ceremony' you inquired about?"

"If you place a deposit now, we can hold it for you for seven days. Otherwise, it will be offered to another noble awaiting their final slumber."

That was the resting ceremony I had looked into a month ago.

The altar would be covered in pure white rose petals.

An exquisite crystal censer would burn my favorite jasmine essential oil.

To turn to ash amidst a fragrant aroma as my bloodline faded, carried away on a scented wind.

It was the end I yearned for most.

Eighty thousand dollars.

I glanced at the few hundred dollars in my wallet and fell silent for a moment. "No, that won't be necessary. Thank you."

A vampire who couldn't even afford a low-grade potion to suppress her Bloodline Depletion couldn't even afford to die.

Just as I hung up, the sound of the door opening made me look up.

Damien strode in.

He was used to the faint, clean fragrance that permeated the manor, a unique scent of jasmine and something cool like moonlight that clung only to his Vow-mate.

Now, the stale, still air of this room repulsed him, filling him with an unexpected sense of loss.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he instinctively took a deep breath, trying to catch that familiar scent.

But there was nothing.

Only dust and mildew.

Damien quickly suppressed the discomfort. "What was that on the phone about a ceremony?" he demanded, glaring at me.

"Seraphina, I've told you," his voice was as cold as frost, "don't try to win sympathy by wishing death upon yourself. Do you find this amusing?"

I didn't want to say anything, but an instinctive explanation escaped my lips. "Damien, I wasn't…"

"You weren't what?" he cut me off, his tone growing harsher. "There's nothing to say between us. Don't even think about taking anything that belongs to Isabella."

"Some things were never meant to be yours."

My nose stung, and my fingers dug into my palms to stop the tears from falling.

In the past few days, I had cried more than in all my centuries of existence.

He said the celebration, the Vice President position, even all the love, belonged to Isabella.

But what about the things that were supposed to be mine? Had he forgotten them all?

I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye. "I just want to ask you one question."

"Our two-hundredth anniversary. Do you even remember it?"

Damien's expression froze for a second. His gaze drifted unconsciously to the photograph on the table.

But he quickly looked away and said coldly, "What are you trying to say?"

"You promised me on our centennial that you would hold a proper bonding ceremony for me," my voice was soft. "But later, in front of the entire council of elders, you mocked my 'diluted' bloodline, saying I was unworthy to stand by your side."

"Every centennial birthday since then, you've found excuses to cast me aside," I gasped for breath. "But Isabella only has to try a new perfume for you to book an entire vampire-owned island to throw her a party."

"Seraphina," Damien's tone softened, perhaps out of guilt, "you're always so focused on these trivial details. We've lived for centuries. My love for you doesn't need to be proven by such things."

"I thought you would understand. If you're going to be this fragile and sensitive, you will only continue to disappoint me."

I watched the growing impatience in his eyes, felt the pressure of his princely authority.

So, in his eyes, everything I did was wrong.

My love, my devotion, my suffering, all of it was a mistake.

I said softly,

"You're right, Damien. I'm not good enough."

I turned my back to him, no longer looking.

"The safe is in the second drawer on the left. I've left something for you. It will unlock automatically in seventy-two hours."

He said nothing and left.

The midnight bell chimed, and the room returned to its dead silence.

I hugged the old, battered photo frame, feeling my life slip away, bit by bit.

Two days left.

I spent the entire night fighting the excruciating pain of my Bloodline Depletion.

At dawn, the roar of a sports car engine echoed from downstairs.

My parents and Isabella had returned.

Even from outside, their angry accusations reached me.

"Seraphina, you still have the nerve to come back here?"

The door was thrown open violently. The fury in my father Richard's eyes looked as if it could devour me whole.

"You ruined Isabella's promotion party! She cried herself sick begging you to stop!"

"And you don't feel the slightest bit of guilt?"

"Apologize to Isabella, now!"

I closed my eyes, a fresh wave of pain washing over me. It's okay. Less than seventy hours left.

Once, he had treated me with that same warm, protective instinct.

Back then, when I struggled to control my bloodlust, my father would patiently console me. "It's alright, Seraphina. Everyone moves at their own pace."

He even scoured the underground black markets himself, searching for the sweetest, purest blood sources for me, soothing my hunger-wracked body time and time again.

But everything changed after Isabella arrived.

She could hunt independently in her first year after being turned, quickly becoming one of the Kindred's elite and Damien's most capable aide.

And I, despite my pureblood title, could barely shadow-walk, and my combat skills were the worst in the entire clan.

She replaced me, becoming the brilliant and capable daughter in my father's eyes. And because of the nature of her turning-vow, my father never suspected the venomous heart beneath her gentle exterior.

Stranger still, ever since Isabella's arrival, I had grown progressively weaker for reasons I couldn't explain.

I was constantly nauseous and dizzy, and even the simplest wounds were incredibly slow to heal.

The clan's alchemists said it was a problem with my innate constitution, that I couldn't bear the weight of the Kindred's bloodline.

But no matter how hard I tried, my physical condition only worsened.

Disappointment began to appear in my father's eyes.

"Seraphina, look at Isabella, and then look at yourself. She's so exceptional right after being turned, how can you be so mediocre?"

"As Prince Damien's Vow-mate, how can you manage his household in this sickly state? How can you hold your own among the elite?"

"If it weren't for that damned pureblood alliance, do you think you could have ever hoped to marry the Prince?"

Eventually, the look in his eyes turned from disappointment to shame.

It was as if looking at me for even a moment would sully his sight. Isabella was his proud masterpiece.

I forced my heavy eyelids open and looked at Isabella, standing behind my parents.

"Sister, let's make up, okay? Just like when we were little," her voice was sickeningly sweet, her eyes welling with tears, projecting an image of someone who had been wronged but was still magnanimous.

This had always been her specialty.

"Do you remember that perfume you made for me?" Isabella took a step forward. "Tomorrow is my official first day in my new position. Could you blend another bottle of 'Midnight Bloom' for me? As a celebration of my new beginning."

A flicker of relief crossed my mother Eleanor's eyes, and she quickly urged me,

"Isn't this the only thing you're good at? Seraphina, Isabella is offering you an olive branch. You're getting off easy, so hurry up and do it!"

I froze. That bottle of "Midnight Bloom" threw me back a century.

Back then, not long after Isabella had been turned by my father, I had excitedly blended a perfume for her, carefully selecting the most precious midnight bloom petals.

Just because she said she loved the scent of Midnight Bloom, I endured countless burns on my fingers from its essence.

While the essence of Midnight Bloom was nowhere near as potent as vervain, for a vampire with a weak bloodline like me, even the fumes during the distillation process made me feel faint.

But I gritted my teeth and persisted, finally creating the perfect perfume.

The result was that after Isabella wore it, she broke out in terrifying red blotches that same night.

The alchemist determined that an ingredient in the Midnight Bloom was incompatible with the source of Isabella's blood.

The first thing she did after waking up was to throw herself into Damien's arms, crying, "Your Highness, the perfume was a labor of love from my sister. She said it would be good for my newly turned bloodline… Please don't blame her, it's all my fault for being too greedy!"

I stood helplessly outside the door, trapped by Damien's murderous gaze.

"I had no idea there was an incompatible ingredient. The formula was perfectly fine…"

Damien didn't listen to a word I said. He took my daylight ring and locked me in a sunroom for three whole days.

It was a living nightmare.

No blood, no water, not even basic shelter.

I curled up in a corner of the glass room, the glaring sun scorching my skin, listening to the sounds of laughter from outside as they celebrated Isabella's "recovery."

When I was finally let out, my skin was covered in festering sores, and I could barely stand.

"Have you forgotten?" I looked coldly at Isabella's duplicitous face. "Midnight Bloom is toxic to you."

The mention of this made the atmosphere in the room instantly awkward.

Just then, Damien pushed the door open.

He heard our conversation and his steps faltered for a moment.

In truth, during those three months in the sunroom, even when I was tortured to the point of losing consciousness, I could still sense through our bond that he had come to see me secretly in the dead of night.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Now, he was completely on Isabella's side.

"Toxic?" Isabella let out a soft laugh, a barely perceptible nervousness in her voice. "Sister Seraphina, that was ages ago."

She deliberately moved closer to me. "I'm much stronger now. That minuscule amount of toxin is nothing to me. A century of experience has made my bloodline unbreakable."

As she spoke, she held out her hand, as if to prove something. "See? I'm not afraid of Midnight Bloom at all."

Her nails dug into my skin, the pressure increasing.

Just as the pain forced me to wrench my arm away, she "unexpectedly" fell to the ground.

And in the moment she fell, I saw it clearly: she emptied a small vial, hidden in her sleeve, onto her own arm.