Chapter 3

That word hit me like a bucket of ice water.

My body felt ice-cold.

He didn't ask Sera any questions. He didn't ask why she had tried to kill me.

When I lost it and screamed at him hysterically, he just said lightly, "So?"

A wave of bitter heartache instantly crushed me.

"Does my life mean that little to you?" I spat out each word, every syllable slicing through my throat like a razor blade.

It was a cry of despair.

Ronan frowned impatiently.

"You're not dead, are you?"

I laughed at my own stupidity. Had he held back from going for the kill during these past three years? Why did I expect him to care about my life just because my memories were back?

I forced a smile.

"Ronan, you'd better guard her 24 hours a day!" I warned.

"I won't give you the chance to harm Sera!" he snarled.

Scooping her into his arms, he shoved past me and strode out.

From that day on, he stayed by her side almost around the clock.

My bodyguards didn't get a single chance to act.

On the day I was discharged, I ran into him and Sera at the hospital entrance.

He was being discharged too.

Sera held a smoking bundle of sage and waved it around him from head to toe.

"A little sage to clear the air, and all the bad vibes disappear," she said.

Ronan and I both went still for a moment. It was as if we were looking at the old me.

I'd done the exact same thing and said the exact same words.

Back then, he'd even poked fun at me for being superstitious. Yet Sera was not me, after all.

Complex emotions churned in Ronan's eyes, but there was no telling what he was thinking.

Suppressing the turmoil in my chest, I walked straight past them. Just as I was about to get into the car, a brute force suddenly struck me from behind.

Ronan slammed my head against the car window, shoving a phone right into my face.

A story titled "College Student Kept by Wealthy Tycoon" had gone viral online. It was about none other than Sera.

Ronan glared at me. His eyes were practically spitting fire.

"Since you couldn't touch Sera these past few days, you resorted to these cheap tricks! Briella, you're a woman too. How could you be so vicious?" he shouted.

I kicked him away and said calmly, "It wasn't me. Besides, the internet isn't wrong. Isn't she just a woman you keep—"

A harsh slap cut my words short. My ears rang from the blow, and my mind went blank.

Before my amnesia, he'd doted on me and loved me. He could never bring himself to raise a finger against me, or even speak to me in a harsh tone.

Even over the past three years of mutual destruction, when we stabbed each other countless times, he'd never once struck my face.

Yet this slap humiliated me thoroughly.

I fought with everything I had to hold back the tears in my eyes.

His voice was chillingly cold.

"Briella, you forced my hand!" he roared.

Soon, his retaliation arrived.

Private photos of me were spread across the entire internet. The scandal surrounding the private photos of the Goodwin family heiress quickly buried the story about the kept college student.

This was Ronan's goal.

It was also his way of getting revenge on me.

He was killing two birds with one stone.

Staring at those photos, I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled. He was the one who took those photos back when our love was at its deepest.

I thought they were proof of love. Now they were the knife he sharpened himself.

He was that cruel.

I grabbed my car keys and rushed like a madwoman to Ronan's house.

The moment the front door passcode went through, I couldn't help but freeze for a second.

He hadn't changed the passcode.

It was still my birthday.

Pushing the door open, I went still.

The villa retained its original decor.

The fish I raised and the flowers I planted were all still there.

The only difference was a massive photo hanging on the living room wall.

It was a photo of me, taken by him during our last vacation together.

I remembered watching him and Sera before. He always held her the same way—pinning her down with a hand over her mouth while facing my photo the entire time.

I laughed through my tears. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions.

Just then, footsteps came from the second-floor staircase.