A cold shiver ran through me, settling into my bones.

“What… what is worse?” Gio’s voice was sharp, annoyed. “It’s just some pill. You pumped her stomach, didn’t you? She’ll live.”

The doctor hesitated, uneasy. “It’s more than that… tests show signs of late-stage—”

“I already know,” I croaked, cutting him off. “Don’t bother telling him. He doesn’t care.”

I turned my head, unwilling to meet Gio’s eyes.

He let out a small, humorless laugh. “You’re right. I don’t care. As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters.”

He started to leave, but his phone rang. Through the speaker, I could hear her voice—sweet, soft, the kind that made me want to tear something apart.

“Gio? Where are you? I miss you.”

He glanced at me, lips twitching into a faint, cold smile. “At the hospital. Come see me if you miss me so much.”

After he hung up, he turned back to me, smirking. “You wanted me around for the next two weeks, didn’t you? Looks like your wish is coming true.”

I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes, my body shaking with exhaustion and fear.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Isolde walked in. Her eyes froze when they landed on me in the bed, then she quickly lowered her gaze and moved straight to Gio.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Come here,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers, right in front of me.

She kissed him back, deeper, and the sound of it made my stomach twist sIsolde than any medicine could. Something inside me broke.

I grabbed the vase on the bedside table and hurled it at them. “Get out! Get the hell out of my room!” My voice cracked and rattled with rage.

The vase shattered against the wall. Gio turned quickly, using his arm to shield Isolde, but a shard still sliced across her cheek. A thin line of blood appeared.

She gasped and clutched him like a frightened child. “Gio… my face—it hurts…”

I watched him freeze. His expression shifted, panic flashing through him—the kind of desperate panic I had never been allowed to see.

He rushed to her, lifting her as if she might break. “Don’t touch it! You’ll make it worse!”

Then he barked orders at his guards. “Get the head of dermatology. No—call the top international specialists. Use the helicopter if you must! Now!”

The men scattered instantly, obedient as ever.

I leaned against the cold metal bedrail, watching him disappear down the hall with Isolde in his arms. His voice echoed behind him. “Make sure she heals clean. No scars. Do you hear me?”

The sound cut through me like a slow, grinding knife. I looked down at my hands. Tiny purple bruises dotted the backs, evidence of countless injections. My fingers shook, but I laughed anyway—quiet, dry, bitter.

Isolde was only a shadow of Sabrina. Just enough to make him lose his mind. And me, the woman he married, could bleed, scream, collapse in front of him—and he wouldn’t even blink.

My stomach twisted, sharp pain radiating through me. I curled up, waiting for it to pass, the thin hospital gown clinging to my sweat-slicked skin.

The days that followed blended into one another: pills, injections, unbearable pain. My body wasted away until my ribs jutted sharply under my skin. Hair fell in clumps. Even the nurses looked at me with quiet pity, sometimes slipping extra painkillers into my IV. I accepted nothing, thanked no one.

Then, one afternoon, the door slammed open. Gio stormed in, thunder incarnate.

Before I could even lift myself, he yanked me upright by the arm. “Isolde almost lost her face because of you!” His voice was icy, cutting through me. “Are you proud of yourself?”

I barely managed to stand. “It was just a scratch,” I whispered.

His grip tightened. “Shut up! You think you can hurt her and get away with it?”

He dragged me down the hall. My legs trembled, too weak to resist. Two guards followed close, silent and imposing.

When we reached the staircase, broken glass glinted on the steps. My chest dropped.

“Gio—what are you doing?”

He didn’t even glance at me. “You like causing pain, don’t you? Let’s see how it feels when it’s your turn.” He nodded to the guards. “Do it.”

I clutched the railing, breath ragged. “She’s not Sabrina! You’re losing your mind!”

Finally, he looked at me, eyes wild. “She doesn’t have to be Sabrina. She only has to look like her.”

“Gio—”

He gestured, and the guard shoved me hard.

Pain exploded through me as I hit the stairs. Glass tore into my skin. I couldn’t scream, only choke out sounds that tasted of blood. Each push, each fall, left me weaker, until I couldn’t move. My chest burned, my mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood. The world dissolved into pain and ringing.

When I awoke, I was back in the hospital, every inch of my body screaming. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt.

Outside the curtain, two nurses whispered.

“Miss Isolde’s fine already,” one said softly. “President Ramirez’s been by her side every day. Treats her like she’s made of glass.”

The other sighed. “And the woman in bed 302… look at her. Covered in bruises. No one even visits her. Isn’t she his real wife?”

“Shh, don’t speak so loud… you’ll get in trouble.”

Their voices faded. I closed my eyes. My throat ached, but no sound came. Tears slid down my face, soaking into the pillow.

I lingered there for days. Painkillers barely dulled the agony. The doctors could do nothing more.

So, one morning, I signed myself out.

If I was going to die, I refused to do it alone, under the harsh glare of white lights, waiting for him to remember I existed.

When I returned home, Gio lounged on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked to me briefly, flat and unreadable, then he rose and strode toward his study as if I weren’t even in the room.

“Gio,” I called softly, leaning against the wall for support. My voice cracked. “It’s my birthday in two days.”

He paused, tilting his head. “So?”

“I… I just want to spend it with you. One last time.”

His brow twitched. “Last time? What, are you dying or something?”

I forced a weak smile. “Maybe. Can I?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll give you a surprise you’ll never forget.” His tone was thick with sarcasm. I knew that look. He was plotting something cruel.

Two days later, I found myself at the hotel he’d texted me about. The moment I stepped through the door, my legs nearly gave out.

The entire hall was stark white and frigid, draped in wreaths of chrysanthemums. A coffin sat at the center. My photo hung on the wall, framed with black ribbon. Guests in black suits turned to look at me, silent. Not a single word.

“Do you like it?” Gio’s voice slithered from the corner. He stepped forward, smirking. “A funeral for your birthday. Thought it would suit you.”

I stared at the photograph, lips trembling, then laughed—a broken, hollow sound. “Y-yeah. I love it.”

For a moment, he froze. “If you love it that much, stay still,” he said, his voice icy, waving his hand.

His friends approached, incense sticks in hand, grinning like predators.

“The sooner you go, the better.”

“Don’t haunt Evander in your next life, okay?”

“Have a safe trip.”

Their laughter echoed in the hall. I just stood there, smiling through it, feeling nothing—or maybe everything. Pain had become a companion.

When it ended, I tried to leave, but Gio’s hand clamped onto my arm.

“What’s your game?” he hissed.

“My game?” I repeated softly.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? You always scream, break things, cry. Why act pathetic now?”

I met his eyes steadily. “It’s not humiliation anymore. I actually… like what you did.”

This time, it felt real. A rehearsal for what was coming.

He stared at me, confusion flickering, then scoffed. “You’re getting creative. But it won’t work, Liora. I’ll never forgive you.”

I said nothing, simply held his gaze until he looked away and stormed off.

---

Back at home, the pain hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless. I stumbled into the bathroom, barely reaching the sink before blood began spilling from my mouth, splattering across the tiles like scarlet paint.

I rinsed my mouth, took my pills with trembling hands, and sank into the bathtub. The hot water soothed me for a few fleeting moments.

Later, as I tried to comb my hair, a clump came away in my hand. Staring at my reflection, hollow cheeks and pale lips stared back. Bitterly, I smiled. Was this really me? Could I last another two weeks?

The next morning, I went to a small downtown photo studio. It smelled of aged wood and old film.

The old man behind the counter blinked, startled. “You want what?”

“A memorial photo,” I said simply. “Something nice. Something that shows me when I was still alive.”

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll make it beautiful.”

I wore a red dress I hadn’t touched in years, painted my lips, and smiled at the camera as I used to: proud, bright, pretending the world hadn’t broken me.

When it was done, he asked, “Take it home after it’s developed?”

I shook my head. “No. Just fix it a little and send it to this address.”

I wrote down my home address. I wanted my photo beside my sister’s… so even in death, I’d still belong somewhere.

---

The ancestral hall smelled of dust and fading incense. I stood before Sabrina and Evander’s portraits, fingers resting on the black frames as if they were the only thing tethering me to them. Sabrina’s smile was soft, the kind that made the world slow down. Evander’s eyes held the calm I had once hidden in as a child.

“I’ll be with you soon,” I whispered. Pressing my forehead against the glass, I let a single tear fall onto the altar. “This stupid feud… it’s almost over.”

“You think you can come in here whenever you want?” Gio’s voice cut through the quiet like a slap. He was behind me before I could turn. I jumped, my elbow smashing against the frame. Glass shattered with a sharp crack that echoed endlessly.

He didn’t look surprised. He looked furious. His grip on my wrist bruised immediately. “You already killed them! Now you destroy their things too?”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” I stammered, pulling back. “You scared me. If you hadn’t snuck up—”

“Save it.” He shoved me forward. “You have no right to touch any of it.”

“I came to see them. Is that a crime?”

He laughed, sharp and bitter. “See them? You don’t deserve to look at them.”

Before I could regain my footing, two guards stepped up. I slammed into the doorframe with my knee, almost collapsing. “Let me go! Gio, are you insane?”

“You’re the crazy one,” he said, and before I could brace myself, one of the guards forced me down to the center of the hall.

“Since you want to stay, stay here. And atone.”

“I’ll atone in my own way. This isn’t how—”

He didn’t let me finish. His boot slammed down on my knee so fast and hard that the breath was knocked from me.

I screamed, slamming against the shards of broken glass. Hot lines cut across my skin. Blood soaked through my skirt.

A soft voice called his name. “Gio?” Isolde appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry… Did I come at a bad time?”

Her foot slipped. A candlestick toppled, the flame catching the scattered photos. The edges of the portraits curled, blackened, and smoke rose as Evander and Sabrina’s faces disintegrated into ash.

Gio froze, his expression twisting into something I’d never seen, something that tore at the edges of me. Then, almost gently, he scooped Isolde into his arms as if she were fragile glass.

“I didn’t mean to,” she choked out, tears streaking her face. “Please don’t be angry.”

For a heartbeat, he was nothing but panic. His hands moved over her cheeks, soft and careful, like a man trained to fix any hurt with soothing gestures. “It’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s fine.”

That look—how he softened, how he rushed—was a blade turning in my chest. I ripped free from the guard’s grip and shoved him. “Wake up! She’s not Sabrina! She’s a cheap imitation who had surgery just to look like my sister!”

Gio’s expression hardened into ice. He gripped my wrist so tightly I feared he might snap a bone. “I know she isn’t,” he said, voice low and controlled. “I know. But can you bring Sabrina back to me? No!”

I opened my mouth, wanting to scream that she was gone, that nothing could fix this—but all I tasted was coppery metal. Tears stung my eyes. He was so close I could see the heat rising from his skin.

“Tie her up,” he ordered. He stepped back, watching me like a judge presiding over a verdict.

Rough ropes cut into my wrists as they forced me to my knees in the center of the ancestral hall—the place where I had once run free as a child. My dress was drenched with blood. Smoke from the burned photos stung my nostrils.

I knelt there, helpless, while he cradled the woman I’d once loved him into hating. I knelt while Sabrina and Evander’s portraits blackened into nothing. I knelt, thinking about how long I had been falling and how there might not be any ground left to hit.

When Gio finally walked out with Isolde, he didn’t glance back. The door slammed so hard the floor shivered. Darkness swallowed the hall. My knees hit the cold stone as I collapsed. Tears fell freely, cutting paths through the grime and blood.

I looked at what remained of Sabrina’s portrait. Half of it was gone—the part with her smile vanished. I laughed bitterly through my tears. “See that, sister? He can’t even tell what’s real anymore.”

I pressed my head to the floor, whispering to no one. “I’ll see you soon. When I get there, tell him yourself, okay? Show him how foolish he’s become.”

Outside, I could faintly hear Gio’s footsteps. The click of his lighter repeated, over and over. I imagined Isolde’s sweet, high voice next, the one that used to make him melt.

“Gio… you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

“Go home,” he said flatly.

“But I want to stay with you—”

“I said go.”

Eventually, she left. I heard her heels fading down the hallway. Then silence settled. He remained, though, somewhere near, perhaps staring at the door, perhaps thinking about breaking it open—but he didn’t. He left me, as always, alone.

I don’t remember falling asleep. When they finally untied me, the sun was already dipping low. My legs refused to move properly. My knees were black and blue, my back aching as if someone had beaten me with a bat.

A servant tried to help, but I waved them off. “Don’t. I’m going out.”

They looked frightened to argue. I didn’t have much time left anyway. I just wanted to see my parents—just once.

Across the street, the old house glowed with soft, warm light. For a moment, I almost turned back. But the door opened.

The old housekeeper gasped. “Miss Liora? My God… it’s really you—”

Before he could finish, my father appeared. Pale, then red with anger. “Who told you to come here?”

“D-dad…”

“Get out!” he roared. “You killed Sabrina, and you still have the face to come here?”

My mother stormed out behind him, belt in hand. “We don’t have a daughter like you! You’re cursed!” She swung hard, the belt lashing my back again and again. I didn’t move. I didn’t even try to block it.

“I just wanted to see you,” I whispered. “Just for a minute.”

“What’s there to see?” He kicked my leg. “Go back to your husband. Go die there if you must!”

Die? I smiled bitterly and nodded.

Rain fell suddenly, a relentless downpour that turned the street into mud. They shoved me, I slipped, the belt falling from my mother’s hand but left unretrieved.

I stayed on my knees and bowed three times, forehead touching the wet pavement each time. “Take care of yourselves,” I murmured quietly. “I won’t bother you again.”

Then I turned and walked. Rain soaked me, mingling with my tears until I couldn’t tell one from the other. I walked without knowing where I was going.

A sleek black car slowed beside me, headlights slicing through the storm. The window rolled down. Gio’s face appeared, unreadable and stone-cold, a cigarette perched between his fingers.

He looked at me like I was a stranger.

“Get in the car,” he ordered.