Zoe’s face flushed red, tears springing to her eyes as she stared down at the photos.

She took a closer look and felt sick to her stomach.

In every photo, a woman was tangled up with older men, shirtless, her expression dazed, her body posed in deliberately suggestive ways.

And the worst part? Every single photo starred her.

Dylan’s voice was ice-cold.

“Zoe Stone, if you want to be trash, that’s your business. But don’t drag our family name down with you.”

“How the hell did your parents raise such a shameless daughter?”

His eyes bore into her like she was filth.

Zoe shook her head quickly, panicked. “That’s not me in the photos. They’ve been doctored!”

Dylan let out a bitter laugh. “So now you’re denying it? You think I’d believe a word you say? You drugged me—God knows what else you’re capable of. Addicted to men, is that it? Can’t even keep it together while pregnant?

“Our family must’ve been cursed for generations to end up with someone like you. And my parents? They still think you’re some sweet little angel. The truth is, you’re absolutely disgusting.

“I bought every last one of these photos—not to protect you, but to protect the Xander family from embarrassment.”

Every word landed like a blade, stabbing deep into Zoe’s heart. She went pale, her body trembling. But more than pain, she felt rage.

Because she knew exactly who had orchestrated this.

“That’s not me in those pictures,” she choked out. “It’s Jenny. She’s the one who had them made. She hired someone to fake them!”

The truth burst out of her, along with uncontrollable tears.

The air fell still for a heartbeat—then the storm crashed in.

“What did you just say?” Dylan snarled.

He shoved Zoe against the wall. His once-gentle eyes were now bloodshot, wild, terrifying.

“You’re blaming Jenny? You really have no shame. You don’t even deserve to say her name!”

The back of Zoe’s head slammed into the wall. Her palm, already scraped raw, began to bleed again as she braced herself.

Tears ran freely down her face, but she glared at him with stubborn defiance.

“We grew up together, Dylan! Why won’t you believe me?!

“I know those photos were fake. Jenny had them made—she’s trying to frame me because I know what she—”

“Shut up!”

The sound of his slap cracked through the air.

Zoe’s head snapped to the side, and five bright red marks appeared instantly across her pale cheek.

Before she could even react, Dylan grabbed her by the jaw and spat in her face.

“You drugged me once. Why should I believe anything you say?”

That one sentence drained the strength from her body.

Without trust, nothing she said mattered.

Seeing her go quiet only fueled Dylan’s fury.

The truth was, when he first saw the photos, a small part of him had hesitated. But looking at Zoe now—her silence, her refusal to admit anything—only confirmed it for him.

She was that kind of girl.

And worse, she had the nerve to drag Jenny’s name through the mud.

His expression turned vicious. He grabbed Zoe’s arm and yanked her toward the door.

“You want to leave so badly? Then get out! Right now!

“You’re no longer welcome in this family. I don’t care if you die out there. From this point on, you’re nothing to us!”

Zoe had only just undergone the procedure. Her body was weak, aching, and vulnerable. Dylan’s grip was brutal, and she didn’t even have the strength to fight back. Pain twisted through her abdomen with every step.

“Dylan, please—calm down. Can we just talk?” she pleaded softly. “I just had surgery. I’m not feeling well. Can I at least stay until tomorrow?”

Her lips were almost colorless, her voice barely holding together—but none of it moved Dylan.

If anything, it only made him colder.

His grip tightened, and he dragged her harder.

“Don’t play the victim in front of me. You looked perfectly fine when you were out screwing around.”

His voice dropped, deadly sharp.

“You like chasing after men so much? Then go find them. Now.”

Zoe was shoved out the front door.

By now, the sky had gone completely dark. Snow was falling hard, the wind cutting through her even beneath her thick winter coat. The pain in her body only made the cold feel worse.

She hadn’t even gotten up yet when Dylan threw her suitcase out after her.

“Take your stuff and get lost!” he barked.

With a loud thud, the suitcase slammed into her wrist.

A sharp crack rang out.

Zoe let out a scream that cut through the night. “Dylan—it hurts! I think my wrist is broken! And my stomach... it really hurts...”

Dylan hesitated. His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes. But his voice remained cold and impatient.

“Oh, stop pretending! I’m not going to feel sorry for you. That suitcase isn’t even heavy. No way it broke your wrist.”

“I swear… it really hurts,” Zoe gasped. Her face was pale, cold sweat dripping down as her entire body seized up.

“I’m not asking for much,” she whispered. “Just… can you call an ambulance for me?”

“Ugh. Quit the act,” Dylan muttered with a sneer. Still, he came down the steps and roughly scooped her into his arms.

“I’ll take you to the hospital. But I’m warning you—if you’re faking, you’ll regret it.”

Zoe could barely speak. Her lips were white, trembling. She managed only a faint “Thank you.”

Dylan shoved her into the passenger seat. As he started the engine, his phone rang. It connected automatically to the car’s Bluetooth, and a syrupy voice filled the car.

“Dylan, I just cut my hand peeling shrimp. It really hurts... can you come kiss it better?”

It was Jenny.

Dylan’s face instantly softened into a smile, his tone warm and doting, like he was comforting a child.

“Just wait for me at home, sweetheart. I’ll be there soon.”

As soon as he hung up, he turned to Zoe, his face going cold again in a heartbeat.

“Get out.”

Zoe looked at him, stunned. “Dylan, please… I’m in so much pain. Can’t you just take me to the hospital first?”

His voice dropped, icier than before.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Something inside her finally went numb.

“I get it,” she whispered, forcing a bitter smile.

She reached for the door, trying to open it, but her whole body was shaking. Even her good hand had gone weak. She couldn’t move.

All the pain, the humiliation, the exhaustion—it finally spilled over. Her vision blurred with tears as she choked back a sob.

But Dylan had no patience left.

He yanked the door open, shoved her out with force.

“Who are you pretending for now? You think I’m buying this performance? I don’t have time for your drama!”

She wasn’t ready. She hit the icy ground hard, her forehead slamming against the pavement with a sickening crack. Blood poured instantly from the wound.

Zoe groaned, the pain crashing over her like a wave. Cold sweat soaked her back. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t respond. Her vision was turning red.

“Help…” she gasped, barely louder than a whisper.

Dylan glanced at her once, his expression unreadable, then slammed the door and drove off into the snow.

Zoe lay trembling on the ground, tears streaming down her face as the car vanished into the blizzard.

And then—everything went black.

*

In her haze, Zoe began to dream.

She was fifteen again.

It was the day of her parents’ funeral. The snow was heavy, blanketing the world in white. She had cried so hard in front of their portraits that she nearly passed out.

Everything had felt like it was collapsing.

Then, through the falling snow, sixteen-year-old Dylan appeared. He was tall and slender in a black coat. His face was cold, but his embrace was warm.

He had placed a hand gently over her eyes and whispered in her ear, “Don’t cry. Your parents wouldn’t want that.”

Zoe had sobbed, “Dylan… I don’t have a home anymore.”

And Dylan had leaned closer, his voice soft as snow.

“Even an eagle flying high still has a nest. Wherever I am, that’s your home now. Your parents will be watching over you from above—and I’ll be here to protect you.”

Zoe had carried those words with her for years.

But the boy who once promised to protect her had fallen in love with someone else.

And that warmth… no longer belonged to her.

*

The tightness in her chest woke her. She sat up with a jolt, gasping for air.

She was in a hospital bed, still hooked up to an IV. The room was empty.

Buzz...

Suddenly, a phone vibrated on the cabinet next to her. She glanced over—and saw a message pop up on the screen.

It was from Jenny.

“Dylan Xander, what the hell do you mean by this?!”

Zoe stared at the phone for a moment before realizing—it was Dylan’s.

Before she could react, it buzzed again. Then again. One message after another kept lighting up the screen.

“You said you’d stay with me! And now you’re rushing to her just because she got hurt?

“Do you not love me anymore?! Have you fallen for her?!

“You’d better explain, or I swear I’ll break up with you!”

Dylan had come after all.

Zoe’s emotions swirled into a complicated mess.

He was always like this—trying to be cold, but never able to go all the way through with it.

As the messages kept coming with no reply, Jenny must have grown desperate. She started a video call.

Zoe felt a wave of irritation. She wanted to silence the phone but quickly realized she couldn’t move her hand.

Her fingers brushed over the thick layers of gauze, and her expression froze.

No... it couldn’t be...

A nurse stepped in just then. “Miss Stone, you’re awake.”

Zoe sat up quickly. “Nurse, my hand—what happened to it?”

The nurse hesitated, her face tightening with sympathy. After a long pause, she finally said, “Miss Stone, the doctor did everything he could. But… you got to the hospital too late. You missed the best treatment window.”

“So… it’s disabled?”

The nurse chose her words carefully. “You won’t be able to carry anything heavy with that hand anymore.”

Oddly, hearing the truth didn’t shake her. It only confirmed what she had already suspected.

In her past life, Dylan had lost the use of one hand trying to protect her.

This time, she lost one herself. Consider it repayment.

But the nurse wasn’t finished. “Also… because you just had the procedure and then were left in the cold for so long, there’s severe damage to your uterus. You may never be able to have children again.”

Zoe froze, her gaze dropping instinctively to her abdomen.

She stared blankly, as if the words hadn’t quite registered.

No children…?

Once upon a time, that would have devastated her.

Now… it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t planning to get married in this lifetime.

Maybe she wasn’t even capable of falling in love again.

The nurse glanced at her strangely, confused by her eerie calm. Assuming Zoe had gone into psychological shock, she quickly tried to comfort her.

“It’s not definite, Miss Stone. There’s still a chance—”

Clang.

Something crashed to the floor behind them.

A thermos rolled across the tiles, hot soup splattered everywhere.

Zoe looked up and locked eyes with Dylan.

He was standing in the doorway, ghost-white, frozen in place.

He had clearly heard everything.

His eyes trembled, lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but no words came out.

The nurse glanced between them, then quickly slipped out, leaving the two alone.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Finally, Dylan spoke.

“I…”

He looked directly at her, struggling for words. After a long pause, his voice cracked.

“I’m sorry.”

His mind was spinning.

He couldn’t stop thinking—

If he hadn’t left…

If Zoe hadn’t been left out in the snow for four hours…

Would the outcome have been different?

But Zoe felt nothing anymore. No sorrow, no anger. Just exhaustion.

She didn’t speak. She simply gave a quiet nod.

Dylan stiffened.

That wasn’t the response he had expected.

He had thought she would seize this chance to guilt him into marriage. That she would cry, plead, use this as leverage.

But she didn’t.

She just looked… tired.

Before he could process what that meant, a sudden voice broke the silence.

“Zoe! Oh my god, what happened?!”

Mr. and Mrs. Xander rushed into the room.

Mr. Xander’s face was dark with worry. “We were gone on a short business trip—how the hell did things get this bad?!”

Seeing their genuine concern, Zoe thought of her past life—of what came after Dylan’s death.

Back then, Mr. and Mrs. Xander had cursed her with the cruelest words they could find.

But she hadn’t blamed them.

Because deep down, she believed it was her fault he died.

Mrs. Xander’s eyes turned red. “Does it hurt?”

Zoe shook her head gently. “Not anymore.”

Mr. Xander turned sharply to Dylan, his tone hardening.

“You’d better explain. What the hell happened? Did you do this to her?”