Chapter 8

Before Dylan could say a word, Zoe cut in.

“This has nothing to do with him. I was careless—it was my own fault.”

Dylan froze again, his expression growing even more unreadable.

Mr. Xander wasn’t buying it. “Zoe, stop covering for him. Last time, you begged us not to push him, and now you’re defending him again!”

Zoe only gave a tired smile. “It really has nothing to do with him.”

Mrs. Xander wiped her tears, glaring at Dylan with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"How did I raise such a blind, foolish son? You treat glass like diamonds and mistake trash for treasure. I will never approve of that girl—Jenny!"

Mr. Xander chimed in, voice firm. "Neither will I. As far as I’m concerned, Zoe is the only daughter-in-law this family will ever have."

Jenny had always been Dylan’s Achilles' heel. The moment he heard that, his eyes reddened with fury.

“Jenny’s a good person! You just refuse to see it!”

“You foolish boy!” Mr. Xander’s expression darkened and then he slapped Dylan hard across the face.

Smack.

Dylan’s head jerked to the side, but he said nothing at first. He stared at the floor in silence for a long moment before turning to Zoe with eyes full of venom.

“Well done, Zoe. Playing the victim. Using every trick in the book—pulling sympathy, staging drama. I’m telling you, I’d rather die than marry you.”

“You ungrateful brat!” Mr. Xander roared, reaching out to hit him again.

But Dylan didn’t flinch. He just glared at Zoe, his stare sharp and menacing.

“Please, Mr. Xander, don’t hit him!” Zoe tried to stop him, but her body wouldn’t respond. In a panic, she slipped off the bed and hit the floor hard.

Thud.

Her forehead slammed into the cabinet. Blood immediately began to seep through the gauze.

“Zoe!” Mr. and Mrs. Xander cried out in alarm, rushing to her side and shouting for a nurse.

Dylan watched the scene unfold with a flicker of shock but in the end, he said nothing. He let out a cold scoff and walked out without looking back.

Zoe watched his retreating figure. Her vision blurred, and everything went black.

*

In the days that followed, Dylan never came back.

Zoe knew he was with Jenny. Just like in her past life, they had moved into a luxury hotel together.

But this time, Zoe didn’t chase after him.

She didn’t beg him to come home.

Instead, she stayed quietly in the hospital, focusing on recovery, counting down the days until she could leave.

Two days before her departure for Backwater Ridge, Zoe was discharged from the hospital.

She politely turned down Mr. and Mrs. Xander’s offer to let her stay, completed the necessary paperwork at school, and headed to the hotel she had booked in advance.

But just as she was about to swipe her keycard, she saw Dylan walking over—his arm wrapped tightly around Jenny.

All three of them stopped in the hallway, staring at each other in surprise.

Zoe blinked. “They’re staying next door?” she wondered.

In her past life, they had stayed at WH Hotel, so she had deliberately chosen a different place this time. Who would have thought they would change plans?

The moment Jenny saw her, she clung to Dylan’s arm, practically burrowing into his chest, her gaze full of smugness and challenge.

Dylan frowned sharply, his voice cold enough to cut bone.

“Are you seriously still following us?”

Zoe ignored him and calmly opened her door.

She had barely set her suitcase down when her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Jenny.

“You really don’t know when to quit. Wasn’t the last lesson enough? You still have the nerve to follow us?

“Let me be clear—Dylan will never marry you. In his eyes, you’re lower than trash.”

Zoe gave the messages a single glance, then closed the app without responding.

Jenny had been sending her messages like that for a long time—especially after Dylan brought her to the hospital that night and didn’t reply to Jenny’s texts.

Since then, the messages had only grown nastier. In addition to verbal abuse, Jenny had started sending twisted photos—some graphic, some disturbing.

Photos of herself and Dylan in bed. Used contraceptives. Torn dresses. Bloodied dolls. dead kittens.

Zoe had saved them all.

She planned to hand them over to Dylan before she left—as a final “gift.”

She would expose Jenny’s true nature.

What Dylan chose to believe after that… was no longer her concern.

*

After a moment of stillness, Zoe took a long shower and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, she woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding from a nightmare.

Something felt off.

She blinked, dazed, and sat up.

Then she realized—the power was out. The room was completely dark. The outlets were dead.

Just as panic started to rise in her chest, she heard it—click—the sound of a lock turning.

The door creaked open.

A tall, shadowy figure burst into the room.

Zoe’s heart dropped. She let out a scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could finish.

The man let out a low, twisted laugh, then began yanking at her clothes.

Zoe struggled with everything she had, her knee shooting up and landing hard between his legs.

The man cried out in pain and loosened his grip for a second—just long enough for Zoe to bite his hand and tear away from him.

She sprinted for the door, shouting for help.

But he caught up to her in seconds, dragged her back, and slammed her to the floor. He pinned her down, one hand already fumbling with his belt.

Zoe kicked and screamed, but she couldn’t break free. The cold from the floor seeped into her skin as a wave of terror crashed over her.

Tears of helplessness streamed down her face.