Chapter 1

I was found by an older man who was fishing early in the morning. When he cast his line, the hook accidentally snagged onto me, and no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn't come loose.

He got closer and saw me floating in the water. Terrified, he dropped his fishing rod and ran to call the cops.

When the police pulled me out of the water, I was barely breathing. The doctors who treated me didn't think I would survive, and my family didn't even bother signing the consent forms for further treatment. Yet somehow, I clung to life and became a medical miracle.

The moment of impact when I fell was excruciating, but waking up afterward was so much worse. The pain was unbearable; it felt like my body was punishing me for surviving.

Out of the 206 bones in a human body, I had broken 108, some of them shattered into fragments. Every inch of me hurt, and the torment made me wish I hadn't made it.

I couldn't move, nor could I stand anyone touching me. Even when the nurse lightly pressed on the back of my hand to find a vein for the IV, the pain left me drenched in cold sweat. By the time I endured six full IV drips, I was exhausted and desperate for sleep.

Just as I was about to drift off, Irvin Sawyer's assistant walked into my hospital room. He said, "Mrs. Sawyer, Mr. Sawyer has asked me to bring you to apologize to Ms. Lianne. Please get ready so we can leave."

I lay there, unable to move, staring at him in stunned silence. My injured brain struggled to process what I had just heard.

He added impatiently, "Mrs. Sawyer, please hurry up and get ready. Don't make Mr. Sawyer angrier than he already is. Because of you, Ms. Lianne was kidnapped too, and that upset him greatly. You know she's the apple of his eye."

His tone was polite but laced with disdain and irritation. It took me a moment to snap out of it, and then I laughed bitterly. I had married such a wonderful husband.

When the kidnappers stood on the cliff and demanded he choose between us, he didn't hesitate to save Julianne Sinclair, leaving me to die. And now, as I lay here clinging to life, unable to even move my hands, he wanted me to apologize to his "special someone".

With great effort, I opened my mouth. My voice was raspy and hoarse as I replied, "Tell Mr. Sawyer that I won't be apologizing. Instead, I'll gift him to Lianne as my apology. I wish them a long and happy life together—with kids, of course."

I closed my eyes after that, too drained to say another word. My body hurt so much—every injury on me felt like a gaping wound tearing me apart. The only thing I wanted was to fall asleep, as sleep was the only escape from the pain.

Fortunately, the sedatives in my IV kicked in, and I quickly drifted out of consciousness. I didn't know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes again, they locked onto Irvin's furious gaze.

His already arrogant and cold demeanor turned even more intimidating when he was angry, and the icy air around him sent a chill through me.

"Why didn't you apologize to Lianne?" he asked. "Do you even realize that because of you, she was kidnapped and now has a cold?"

He continued, his tone sharp and accusing. "And how many times do I have to tell you that there's nothing between me and her? Why would you say something so humiliating to her? Can you stop imagining things and assuming the worst about everyone?"

I stared at him, stunned, feeling as if I had never known this man despite what we had been through.

There was a time when a tiny cut on my hand would bring tears to his eyes. Yet now, with my entire body wrapped in bandages like a mummy, he didn't seem to notice. He only cared about Julianne catching a cold.

I said softly, my voice trembling, "Irvin, I'm hurt—badly. I can't even move my hands right now."

I thought that by saying all of that, Irvin would at least spare me a glance or show a trace of guilt for choosing to let me die and causing my injuries. But instead, he let out a cold, mocking laugh.

He said, "Don't act like you're actually hurt. Even if you were, isn't it your own fault?"

I stared at him, speechless, and then a bitter smile spread across my face. Seven years of love, and this was where we ended up.

Maybe my smile looked too self-deprecating because his expression softened for a moment. But almost immediately, irritation and disdain returned to his face. "Emilia Quill, you're getting better at putting on a show."

He gestured at my bandages, sneering. "Look at you—wrapped up like it's the real deal."

Then, he reached out and tugged on one of the bandages. The slightest touch was already unbearable for me, but when he pulled, the pain was so sharp I couldn't even breathe.

Before I could recover, he pressed hard on my arm. He taunted, "What's this? Blood? Looks fresh. Did you pay extra for the good stuff? Emilia, you really love wasting medical resources."

The bones in my arm that had only just been set felt like they were shattering all over again. The pain was so intense it felt like my heart stopped.

In that instant, cold sweat drenched my body, leaving me as though I had just been fished out of water. My face turned ghostly pale, completely drained of color. I tried to open my mouth to beg him to stop, but I was in too much agony to even speak.

Irvin finally noticed my pale face and frowned as if realizing something was wrong. "Emilia—" he started, but before he could say more, his phone rang.

The distinct ringtone made him pause, and without sparing me another glance, he picked up the call.

"Don't worry. I'm on my way!" he said urgently, then rushed out of the room. He didn't even look back.

In his haste, he accidentally yanked out one of the tubes connected to my body. I instantly struggled to breathe, panic seizing me as I gasped for air. I tried desperately to call out to him, to beg him to get a doctor, but no sound would come out.

It felt like an invisible hand was choking me, cutting off my oxygen as darkness crept in. As my vision blurred and my consciousness faded, a bitter thought consumed my mind.

I didn't die at the hands of the kidnappers, nor did I die when I hit the rocks at the bottom of that cliff. But now, I was going to die because of the man I loved most. The man I gave everything to.

For a moment, the pain in my chest was sharper than anything else. It hurt so much that I no longer wanted to love him—or anyone.

…

Whether heaven pitied me or simply enjoyed torturing me, I survived again. The doctors said I owed my life to the head nurse, who decided to check on me one last time before ending her shift. If she hadn't found me when she did, I wouldn't have made it.

They called me the luckiest patient they had ever seen. I stared at the doctor, unsure how to respond, and simply smiled.

But this time, when I woke up, I felt hollow, like something was missing. It was as if I had forgotten something important, though no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out what—the only thing I couldn't recall was how the tube got pulled out.

The doctor reassured me that it was normal to forget small details after such severe trauma. He told me to focus on healing and not worry about anything else.

I agreed. He was right—recovery was the most important thing. Due to the added injuries, my condition worsened, and I ended up bedridden for over two months before I could move again.

When I finally managed to move, my body was still stiff and weak. I was unbearably thirsty but struggled to reach the water cup on the table. By the time I managed to grab it, drenched in sweat, my hand betrayed me, and the cup fell to the floor, spilling everywhere.

Staring at the puddle of water only made me thirstier. I tried to figure out how to pour another cup when a tall man suddenly burst into the room.