Brigitta had no idea how she managed to walk out of the hospital. Despite the doctor’s repeated warnings, she insisted on signing her own discharge papers.

She sent Kaspian a message, telling him she had matters to settle first and that they could meet up afterward. The last thing she wanted was for anyone she knew to see her in such a messy state.

So, she hailed a cab and went straight home.

Standing under the showerhead, letting the water pour down her body, Brigitta replayed what had just happened. She still couldn’t believe it—was Damien really unable to see through Irene’s cheap lies?

No. He simply didn’t want Irene to feel guilty.

Brigitta looked at her bandaged hand and forehead. Just like in her past lives, whenever Damien and Irene were involved, she ended up covered in injuries. This time, she decided to leave first thing in the morning and rejoin her expedition team earlier than planned.

The next morning, Brigitta carefully cleaned her wounds and dressed herself properly.

Before leaving, she planned to visit the Arkwright mansion. She intended to return the family’s heirloom—the emerald bracelet Lena had personally entrusted to her—and to formally announce that their wedding was off.

The bracelet had been passed down for generations; only the Arkwrights’ daughter-in-law was allowed to wear it. According to the press, it was worth billions.

But before Brigitta even opened the door, movers were already hauling in crates of supplements, health tonics and specialty foods.

She froze in confusion, just as Damien walked in arm-in-arm with Irene. They eventually stopped and got face to face with Brigitta at the entrance.

“So much for saying you wouldn’t marry me. Why are you still here? You're just putting on a show.”

Brigitta sighed. “Damien, this place was bought by both our families. It’s not just yours. I’m not squatting in your home—this is my home, too.”

Her eyes caught on his hand resting gently on Irene’s stomach. The sight made her pause.

Then Damien’s gaze shifted to the bag slung over her shoulder. “Where are you going with that?”

“None of your business,” Brigitta said flatly.

The man ignored her tone and went on casually, “Irene’s pregnant. She can’t stay elsewhere anymore—she needs to be here to rest. You can pack your things and move into the guest room.”

Irene placed her hand over his. “Ms. Holmund, I should really thank you. If you hadn’t frightened me into fainting and ending up in the hospital, I wouldn’t have found out I was carrying Damien’s child.”

She buried her face against his chest, their intimacy felt sickeningly sweet.

Brigitta had anticipated the news from their gestures, but hearing it confirmed still struck her.

Irene actually got pregnant. In all her past lives, this had never happened. Still, none of it mattered anymore.

Brigitta turned to leave. “Do whatever you want. I’m already moving out.”

Damien grabbed her arm and frowned. “Moving out? No one asked you to leave. I just said to clear out your things for Irene’s sake. She’s frail, she needs someone to look after her. You’ll take care of her during the pregnancy.”

Brigitta gave a bitter laugh. “Me? Take care of your mistress? Why on earth would I do that?”

“I won't give her a title,” Damien said, “but the child will have one. My heir, an Arkwright. And if it bothers you, I’ll give you a child too—but we’ll claim it’s illegitimate. I won’t let Irene’s child have to share its inheritance.”

Tears welled in Irene’s eyes as she clung to him.

“Damien… you’re so good to me. I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Brigitta sneered. “Then go ahead and keep having them. But not with me. We’ll never have children together. And I’m certainly not going to nurse her through a pregnancy. I’m leaving.”

As she reached for the door handle, Irene noticed the heirloom emerald bracelet on Brigitta's wrist.

“Damien! Look at her bracelet—I want it! It’s beautiful,” Irene turned to Damien.

Without hesitation, Damien pulled out his phone, activating the mansion's remote locks. “Irene likes it. Take it off. Consider it a gift to the child.”

Brigitta stared at him in disbelief. “Damien, that bracelet is your family’s heirloom! It’s not something you just hand over!”

He dismissed her. “It’s just an object. My mother gave it to you, why shouldn’t Irene have it? Don’t pretend this isn’t about the title it represents. Take it off yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

Brigitta didn’t want him touching her. Without another word, she slid the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Irene.

Irene’s face lit up, but the next it got twisted with malice. She intentionally loosened her grip. As a result, the emerald bracelet shattered against the floor.

Irene ducked behind Damien, tears brimming again. “Ms. Holmund, if you didn’t want to give it to me, you don't have to smash it out of spite!”

Brigitta stared at the fragments on the ground—the very last tie she had to Damien.

Slap!

Damien’s palm struck her face.

“So petty. You’d rather destroy it than give it to her? You’ll pay for this. I'll sue the Holmunds!”

Brigitta’s face burned with pain. She covered her cheek with her injured hand, but Damien grabbed it all of the sudden. Then, another agonizing pain ripped through her already torn wound.

“Irene said that you just scraped your fingers, stop acting, Brigitta! Stay here and serve Irene. You're not allowed to go anywhere else!”

A bitter laugh rose in Brigitta’s chest. She rushed into the living room, grabbed a fruit knife and aimed it at both of them. “Damien, let me out, or else… I’ll go down with you both.”

Her sudden defiance stunned him. Damien hesitated before pulling out his phone and unlocked the door.

Brigitta left and went straight to the Arkwright mansion, to meet Lucien and Lena—Damien's parents. She returned the agreements she had once signed—in which she was granted the shares in Arkwright Corp. and to terminate all financial ties with the Arkwrights.

Both Lucien and Lena were stunned by that. They immediately ordered their butler to investigate the matter thoroughly. Half an hour later, the butler returned and recounted everything he had heard from Damien’s bodyguard.

Lucien slammed the table so hard it shook. “That ungrateful son! He's so obsessed with that woman he's lost his mind—even treating marriage like a joke!”

Lena gently stroked Brigitta's head, looking at the bruises on her forehead and palms with heartbreak. She wiped away her tears. “Gitta, my poor child... Look at you—is your arm alright?”

Brigitta's nose grew a bit stuffy. Lucien and Lena had watched her grow up and the two of them had taken such good care of her, even more so than her own father. In her past lives, even after marrying Damien, they had never let her suffer. They had always protected her.

Lucien picked up his phone and dialed Damien’s number.

“I’ll drag that boy here myself and make him apologize! And he’ll take that woman to terminate the pregnancy. A child born of seduction and betrayal will never be recognized by the Arkwrights!” he said angrily.

But after several attempts, no one answered. Just then, Brigitta's phone rang—it was Damien calling. She accidentally pressed the speakerphone button when answering it.

On the other end, Damien sounded furious. “Brigitta, do you have no shame? You walk out on me one second and the next you’re running to my parents to tattle?"

"Irene’s pregnant—I’m already overwhelmed and instead of helping, you stir up trouble. Since your little push-and-pull games failed, now you’re hiding behind my parents? Pathetic!”

Lucien snatched the phone, roaring into it. “You ungrateful wretch! Try speaking to Gitta like that again! What’s this about the wedding being canceled? What's the deal with 'this' pregnancy? Get here now and explain yourself, or you’re no son of mine! I’ll name another heir!”

Brigitta didn’t want to stay there any longer. She thanked Lucien and Lena and said she didn’t need or accept Damien’s apology. Still, they insisted she stay.

Soon Damien arrived, clearly irritated. “Father, Mother, what is this about? I'm really busy right now.”

Lucien slammed the table again, pointing at him with disappointment. “Apologize to Gitta!”

Damien glanced at Brigitta. “She’s the one who keeps targeting my woman. Why should I apologize?”

Brigitta sighed. She no longer wanted to say anything to Damien.

Lucien’s rage boiled over. “Why? Because she is the only woman this family will ever recognize as an Arkwright. She is your wife. And this is how you treat her?"

"End your affair, take that woman for an abortion. We will never acknowledge her bastard. Don’t force me to deal with it myself!”

Damien’s brows knitted tight. “Father, that’s your grandchild. I’ll make sure Irene’s baby is born safely.”

His eyes went glacial as he looked at Brigitta. “If you try to harm her, I’ll make sure your so-called ‘perfect daughter-in-law’ suffers a fate worse than death.”

Just then, his phone rang. He answered, went in panic and spun toward the door.

Lucien barked, “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Damien’s eyes were bloodshot. He didn’t look at his father but glared squarely on Brigitta instead. “Irene tried to kill herself!”

Brigitta’s mind went blank.

So it had come early this time. In her past lives, Irene’s suicide had always come later—after the wedding.

Could it be that she doomed to repeat this cycle no matter what she did?

After Damien stormed out, Brigitta too left the Arkwright mansion.

She had made an appointment with Kaspian at the airport. Although still early, unease gnawed at her, so she hailed a taxi and went ahead to wait.

Everything in this lifetime had unfolded so suddenly. Still, at least Irene’s attempt came before the wedding. This time, no one could pin it on her.

Exhausted, Brigitta leaned against the taxi's window and closed her eyes to rest.

Suddenly the driver jerked the wheel. Brigitta was thrown hard against the front seat.

“Bang!”

Another car slammed into them. The taxi spun, flipped several times and crashed onto the asphalt with a deafening thud.

Pain exploded through her chest and stomach. Dizziness engulfed her and blurred her vision blurred.

It hurt... God, it hurt so much.

But she couldn’t let herself die here.

With everything she had, she forced her eyes open, smashed her fist against the shattered glass and dragged her injured body out of the car.

And then she saw someone walking toward her.

It was Damien.

Brigitta reached out, trying to clutch Damien’s trousers.

“Help me…” She felt her ribs were broken and even breathing caused her pain.

Damien crouched in front of her, looking down at Brigitta coldly and grabbed her chin with his hand. “Where did you hide Irene? Speak!”

The pain forced tears from her eyes. Weakly, she whispered, “I didn’t… I didn’t hide her.”

Damien’s rage boiled over. “Still denying it? Irene’s last call for help said her kidnappers were your people. She tried to kill herself because they forced her!"

"How could you be so cruel? You're trying to take her life too?" He then barked an order, "One of you come here! Tie her up!”

Brigitta couldn't understand... why did things came early in this lifetime? Why she still couldn't escape the effect of Irene’s suicide attempt?

Her body ached unbearably and her old wounds had reopened and were bleeding continuously. Brigitta looked at Damien with plea. “Please... take me to the hospital. I need treatment.”

Damien shoved her hand away as she grabbed for his arm, brushing his sleeve as though she dirtied it.

“Unless you tell me where Irene is, I’ll let you die right here before I ever take you to a hospital.”

Black-clad bodyguards closed in. Their leader bowed nervously.

“Sir Damien… if Sir Lucien finds out we staged this car accident, we’ll all be finished. And if we’re seen abducting Miss Brigitta, the Holmund Family won’t stand for it—”

Damien glared at the man angrily. “Shut up. I'll protect you no matter what happens. Do as I say!”

The others dared not say another word and dragged Brigitta to her feet.

“Don’t… touch me!”

Brigitta despised the touch of strangers, let alone several unfamiliar men. A sense of humiliation spread throughout her body.

Damien saw the reaction and stepped closer to grab her by the throat.

“Why act so delicate now, Gitta? When you staged that crash and kidnapped Irene, did you even think about this? You’ve got scratches at most, while she’s out there suffering God knows what.”

Damien ordered his men to tie her up, gag her and throw her into the back of the truck. The vehicle soon sped down the road.

Brigitta fought nausea, her tears blurring with despair. She prayed—prayed that someone would come for her.

After what felt like hours, the car screeched to a stop in front of an old and worn warehouse.

She was dragged out of the car. The pain in her body made it impossible for her to walk and she fell directly to the ground. The motion made her stomach churn violently and she vomited.

Damien got out of his car and stepped back in disgust when he saw that.

“You're putting quite the performance! But unless you tell me where Irene is, I don’t care how pitiful you act—you’re not leaving this place.”

They dragged her inside the warehouse. Her legs scraped against the concrete until they bled.

"I might die here," Brigitta mouthed in despair.

Damien took out his phone and threw it on the ground. “Call your people and tell them to release Irene and we’ll trade with you."

He added, "Do it quick! She’s pregnant! If anything happens to her or the baby, I won’t spare you.”

Brigitta trembled as she picked up the phone from the ground and dialed the familiar number.

After a few rings, a deep male voice answered. “Who is this?”

The moment the call connected, a sob escaped her lips, “Kass, save me...”

Before she could finish, Damien ripped the phone from her hand and smashed it on the floor. “Who was that?!”

Brigitta glared at him in silence, hatred burned in her eyes.

His vision reddened with fury. He loomed over her, pointing at the shattered phone. “Tell me who he is! You've hooked up with someone else so quickly? Brigitta, you never cease to disgust me.”

Damien lashed out at the silence. He kicked over a nearby motorbike with a crash. “Not saying anything, are you? Then we’ll just wait here!”

Time passed slowly and Brigitta felt her life slipping away.

She suddenly thought of the unfinished business from her three lifetimes, the dreams she had pursued.

She truly wanted to explore the Lost City Thalasson herself, to witness that ancient civilizaiton, to leave her mark in history.

It felt quite frustrating…

At that moment, Brigitta coughed up another mouthful of blood.

He stood up and walked toward Brigitta, his hand about to touch her, when he was interrupted by his men’s voice.

“Sir Damien! We found Ms. Kemmer!”

A guard rushed in, breathless. “She’s shaken and twisted her ankle. Should we take her to the hospital?”

Damien’s head snapped up. He strode away instantly. “Everyone, follow me and save Irene. Now!”

The guard hesitated. “But, sir… Miss Holmund looks gravely injured. Sir Lucien values her so much, shouldn’t we take her to a hospital too?”

Damien glanced back at Brigitta, who was lying on the ground, bound and gagged.

“She won’t die. Leave her here. Let her learn her lesson,” he said coldly.

Moments later, the engines outside the warehouse roared to life. The convoy pulled away and silence swallowed the warehouse.

Brigitta didn’t even have the strength to get up. She crawled toward the phone Damien had thrown to the ground, but it was already broken.

At that moment, a few drunks carrying beer bottles passed by. They saw the barely conscious Brigitta.

“Damn, there’s a person lying here—a woman!”

One of the drunks stumbled over to her, drunkenly examining her face. “Guys, this woman is really pretty!”

“We’ve hit the jackpot today! Let’s have some fun with her.” After saying that, one of the drunken men began to take off his pants.

They ripped at her clothes. Brigitta fought with the last of her strength against them.

One man yanked her hair, slapping her hard. “Just stay still, bitch, or I’ll kill you!”

Her blouse tore apart. She screamed in humiliation, wildly waving her hands to protect herself and closed her eyes in despair.

Bang!

A gunshot. Then a man’s agonizing screams.