After speaking, Margaret was about to lower her head in a bow, but before she could, the two men rushed forward, panic flashing in their eyes, desperate to stop her.

The air thickened with tension and chaos quickly unraveled.

"Enough!" A deep, angry voice sliced through the turmoil.

Cielle turned toward the sound, her eyes locking with Laurent. His jet-black gaze met hers, coldness simmering beneath the calm of his expression.

"Are you done causing trouble? Cielle," Laurent’s voice, laced with hostility, cut through the room, though his tone remained unnervingly composed.

Magnus seized the moment to pull Margaret to her feet, her knees still trembling. His face twisted with anger as he shot Cielle a look of disdain. "You made your sister kneel to you? You must think you’re mighty now."

"Cielle, you’ve always been so obedient, so sensible. What’s happened to you these last few days?"

"Your sister almost died. Why can’t you just get along with her instead of trying to push her away?"

Cielle’s fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms, drawing blood without her even noticing.

She forced herself to hold steady, her voice stubborn as she replied, "I didn’t! She’s just pretending, making it all up herself!"

Margaret's sobs only grew louder, her voice thick with anguish as she cried, "I didn’t! It’s because you hate me! You told me to jump off the second floor to prove myself to you!"

Her words left everyone in stunned silence.

"Cielle! I can’t believe you’d be so cruel! She’s your sister!"

Magnus, shaking with rage, lunged toward Cielle, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the balcony. His roar echoed in the tense air. "Why don’t you jump?"

"Yeah, easy for you to say! Why don’t you jump?"

Cielle shook her head frantically, her voice trembling as she tried to explain, "I didn’t say that!"

"Then how do you prove it? Want me to jump?"

Cielle’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the two men in disbelief, the weight of their words sinking in. Her eyes widened, her voice shaky as she asked, "Jump? You want me to jump?"

"Margaret, if I jump, will you finally let me go?"

Exhaustion clung to her, a deep fatigue that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the empty trust that had dissolved between them. She just wanted to escape their toxic fight.

Laurent stepped in, placing himself between them as he tried to reason with her, "Cielle, stop making a scene."

"I’m not making a scene.”

"If I jump, you’ll never have to face me again."

Before anyone could react, Cielle shoved Magnus aside. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and without a single moment’s hesitation, she jumped.

Laurent and Magnus stood frozen, their expressions empty, their eyes wide in disbelief. The world seemed to slow around them as they processed the weight of what had just happened.

Had they truly misunderstood her all along?

Panic seized them both. They rushed forward, their hands reaching for her sleeve, but they were too late.

Cielle hit the ground, her body shuddering from the sharp, brutal impact, pain coursing through her.

Magnus rushed to her side, his voice sharp with panic, as if the world around him had shattered. His eyes were filled with worry, a storm of emotion swirling within them. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Cielle, have you completely lost your mind?"

Cielle clenched her ankle, forcing herself to endure the searing pain. She lifted her gaze to meet Magnus’s, her eyes hardened with defiance. "Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?"

Both Magnus and Laurent stood frozen, their hearts heavy with guilt, a knot tightening painfully in their chests.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Margaret hurried to Cielle’s side, her panic written all over her face. Tears glistened in her eyes as she helped Cielle to her feet, her voice trembling. "Sister, why would you do something so foolish? Even if you hate me, you can’t toy with your own life!"

Cielle shot her a cold glance but remained silent, the weight of her pain overshadowing everything else.

The sharp agony from her twisted ankle was too much to bear. She tried to rise, but the effort was futile. She collapsed back to the ground, helpless and defeated.

Magnus furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on the injured Cielle, a wave of heartache crashing over him.

He stepped forward, crouching down and gently pulled Cielle into his arms, his bloodshot eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He murmured softly, "Cielle, we need to get you to the hospital. Your health comes first. Can we end this childish behavior now?"

Cielle’s heart trembled, the realization sinking in that he still saw this as nothing more than a tantrum...

She twisted in his grip, tears welling in her eyes, the weight of his misunderstanding crushing her.

Laurent, standing off to the side, opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, unable to escape.

Magnus carried Cielle in his arms, his breathing shallow, urgency propelling him forward. Laurent followed swiftly behind while Margaret reached out, calling his name, but he shook her off without a glance.

Margaret stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her gaze burning with resentment as she watched their retreating figures.

At the hospital, Cielle sat weakly on the bed, her injury carefully bandaged, the sterile smell of the room filling the air.

Laurent was running around the payment hall, his shirt damp with sweat, while Magnus listened intently to the doctor's advice in the office.

The room grew quiet, leaving only Cielle and Margaret.

Margaret’s gaze burned with venom, her eyes sharp as a dagger as she fixed them on Cielle. Her voice dripped with hatred as she approached, "Don’t think you’ve won just because you're pretending to be hurt. You’ve simply stolen their attention. Don’t get too cocky."

Margaret, with an air of superiority, picked up a small knife and an apple from the table, peeling it with slow, deliberate movements. She glanced down at the fruit, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be alive, Cielle. You should be grateful you still have any worth in this family."

Without another word, she shoved the peeled apple into Cielle’s mouth, her gesture harsh and full of intent.

As Cielle struggled against the sharp sting of pain, the door to the room suddenly crashed open. A man, his face hidden beneath a baseball cap, burst in with frantic energy. Without hesitation, he pressed a knife to Margaret’s throat, dragging her backward as if she were a ragdoll.

Cielle’s gaze locked with his, an uncanny sense of recognition washing over her. The man’s eyes were wild and something about his presence stirred a deep memory. It was him, the fugitive from the recent news reports.

The air thickened with tension as the police, guns drawn, swarmed into the room, their movements deliberate and sharp.

Margaret’s face went pale with terror, her voice trembling as she stammered, "Who... who are you?"