Chapter 4

I spent nearly a year in that asylum.

I was forced to take heavy sedatives every day. If I resisted, I was subjected to "special therapy." My mind became foggy and detached.

Oddly, Christian's attitude toward me softened.

I would often sit blankly in his lap, staring at the faint, white ring mark on my right ring finger.

From the age of eighteen to twenty-eight, for ten whole years, I had worn the exact same ring on that finger.

Nobody knew.

But Christian was someone I had rescued from the streets.

He was an illegitimate child of the Vance family. At thirteen, homeless and starving, he had knelt before me, begging for nothing more than a dry place to sleep.

My mother took pity on him and took him in.

He became my playmate, and my most loyal dog.

If anyone bullied me, he was always the first to beat them to their knees, forcing them to cry and apologize to me.

When I was kidnapped by my father's business rivals, he had tracked me down with a blood-stained knife, his eyes filled with a terrifying, desperate fear of losing me.

On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me a ring.

It was a promise, but it was also a tracking device.

My kidnapping had left him severely paranoid for years, leading him to personally design that tracker ring.

My brother had jokingly slapped him on the back.

"Christian, you're so possessive. Aren't you afraid my sister will get bored of you and find a more obedient boy?"

No one expected those careless words to come true.

Except, the one who got bored and strayed was Christian.

The man who once swore he would die for me had fallen for a cheap escort when I was twenty-five.

And for her, he had slaughtered my entire family.

I had cried, screamed, and fought. I tried every single way to escape.

But in the end, Christian had effortlessly crushed every attempt.

The pain of my face being sliced open had been so deep, so agonizing.

But as the keloid scar formed and hardened, I stopped feeling anything at all.

I looked at Christian standing outside my door.

He kept his head lowered, just like his son, hiding his red, tearful eyes.

I saw it.

But I didn't care anymore.

I called out to him.

"Christian. Let it go."

"Whether you regret it or feel guilty, it doesn't matter. We can never go back to how we were."

Holding the doorknob, I shut the door, locking them both out in the cold.

The rain was pouring harder now, soaking through the thin walls. The sound of water dripping echoed from the kitchen.

Lily quietly handed me a mug of hot cocoa.

Seeing the water pooling on the floor, she let out a small, excited gasp.

"Mom, it's raining again! Does that mean Mr. Julian is coming over?"

Julian. My persistent suitor.

He was a quiet, powerful, and incredibly kind man who always appeared whenever I needed help, expecting absolutely nothing in return. Sometimes, when I couldn't make it to pick Lily up from school, his luxury Rolls-Royce Cullinan would already be waiting downstairs.

In front of me, he was always gentle and soft-spoken.

But Lily told me she had once seen him barking orders at his subordinates outside, looking so terrifyingly regal that no one dared to breathe.

Sure enough, a knock sounded at the door.

Julian walked in, carrying a toolbox, preparing to fix the leak as usual.

But a hand violently grabbed his shoulder.

Christian, his face pale as death, pointed at Julian and demanded in disbelief,

"Evelyn! Who is he?!"