Chapter 5

The Vane estate was lit up like day on the night of the birthday party.

Every A-lister, politician, and business magnate from New York was here.

The air hung thick with the scent of expensive champagne, flowers, and money.

Everywhere, Serena's favorite pink snowball roses were piled high, a vast pink ocean at first glance.

Elara stood in a shadowy corner, dressed in a simple black gown with no jewelry. She watched Serena, a princess accepting everyone’s blessings, laughing delightedly.

"This is my gift to you, Serena."

Dante stood center stage, microphone in hand, his voice full of deep affection.

Two attendants carefully brought out a huge oil painting, covered by a red velvet cloth.

When the cloth was pulled back, a collective gasp swept through the room.

The girl in the painting stood barefoot by the sea, facing the rising sun, full of vibrant life and hope.

"The light and shadow work is masterful!"

"So beautiful! Young Master Dante is so thoughtful!"

Onlookers marveled.

Elara’s blood ran cold.

That was her painting.

It was the work she’d spent three full months on, pouring all her heart into it during countless late nights.

It depicted the freedom she yearned for but could never have.

Yet now, her fiancé, Dante, announced to everyone:

"This painting was Serena's inspiration while she was ill. Though her wrists are weak, this painting represents her tenacious spirit, proof that she doesn't give up on art even in her suffering!"

His voice was filled with immense pride, and the applause that followed was thunderous.

"God, Miss Vane is truly a genius!"

"So touching, an artist with unwavering strength despite disability!"

"This is simply the most outstanding work of this generation!"

Elara looked at Serena. She covered her mouth, a look of surprise and shyness on her face, even a hint of tears in her eyes, as if it were truly her own creation.

At that moment, Elara felt not just rage, but a churning nausea in her gut.

Clutching her wine glass, she weaved through the crowd and walked onto the stage.

Dante saw her, frowned, and warned in a low voice, "Elara, get down. Don't make a scene now and ruin Serena's moment."

"The painting is good," Elara said, her voice not loud, but amplified by the microphone, audible to several rows around them. "Too bad the signature is wrong."

Serena’s face changed instantly. She grabbed Elara’s arm, her nails digging into her flesh, but a sweet smile on her face.

"Sister, you've had too much to drink. I know you like painting too, but don't joke around at a time like this. Let's go upstairs and rest."

"You said you liked my necklace, right? I'll give it to you."

She tried to drag Elara away.

Elara hesitated. That necklace was a gift she bought for herself with a scholarship when she turned eighteen, but Serena had taken it because she liked it.

Just then, Dante hurried over, his eyes pleading.

"Elara, it’s Serena’s birthday tonight. Just give me face, okay? Don't make trouble."

Whispers had already started in the crowd.

Looking at her fiancé and her sister, Elara understood everything.

She let out a cold laugh:

"Let go of my arm. I can walk myself."

Soon, they reached the staircase on the second floor.

It was a carefully chosen blind spot for the surveillance cameras.

Serena’s panicked expression suddenly twisted into something ferocious. She smiled. "Sister, you're still so stupid."

"Want the necklace? Let me tell you the truth. Your blood is mine, your man is mine, and now, your talent is mine too. You're just a spare part. Why aren't you dead yet?"

She didn't push Elara.

Instead, she leaned back herself, pretending to stumble, then shrieked and grabbed Elara’s skirt.

With the immense momentum.

Elara lost her balance.

The last thing Elara saw was Serena’s bizarre, triumphant smile at the top of the stairs.

Then she screamed, falling down, "Sister, don't push me!"

The world spun.

Agony struck, like all her bones were being torn apart.

Darkness swallowed everything.

…

When she woke again, it was to the sharp smell of disinfectant and the rhythmic beeping of machines.

"The patient is hemorrhaging, internal organs damaged. We need family to sign immediately for a transfusion! She has the rare Rh-null blood type, there's no stock in the blood bank!" The doctor's voice was frantic.

"No!" Her mother's sharp voice echoed from the hallway.

"The last remaining Rh-null plasma in the blood bank is reserved for Serena! Serena was startled just now, what if she has an episode? That's her life-saving blood! Elara is tough, she won't die!"

"But she..."

"Shut up! I'm the guardian! Go check on Serena first, her finger is scraped, and she's still crying!"

Her father's voice followed, filled with utter disregard for Elara.

Elara lay on the cold operating table, listening to it all.

No tears.

Her heart had died long ago. Even pain had become numb.

Just as her consciousness was fading, and death beckoned, a deep, magnetic voice, filled with unquestionable authority, rang out.

"Give her mine."

It was a gospel from hell.

"Sir, you are? This is a sterile area..."

"Julian Thorne. Rh-null, the golden blood. My blood, enough to buy this hospital, enough to save her, right?"

Julian.

Elara’s ally, her devil, her god.

As warm fluid flowed into her body, Elara knew. Her ties to the Vane family, to Dante Rossi, were severed, along with the infusion of this blood.

In the hallway, a commotion suddenly erupted.

"Dante! This woman is insane! She pushed me! She wanted to kill me!" Serena's aggrieved voice rang out from the doorway.

Bang!

The hospital room door was kicked open, and Dante rushed in.

Serena saw Elara was still alive and showed a hint of disappointment.

Dante's face, however, was etched with rage. He stormed over, ignoring Elara's IV drip, and pushed her shoulder hard, his voice a raw accusation.

"You heartless woman! How could you have the heart to harm your sister! You should have died on that staircase!"