"Every single time, she wanted me dead! If that doctor hadn't come in, I'd be a corpse right now—do you understand that?!"

Renald sighed and reached out to pull me into his arms.

I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me! This time I won't back down. I'm pressing charges—she's going to face the law!"

He fell silent for a moment, then his gaze hardened.

"Lorraine and I grew up together. She's been spoiled, yes, but she's not evil. I'll discipline her myself—suspend her, maybe even make her leave the demolition field."

"But I won't let her go to prison and ruin her life."

Before I could even react, his assistant stepped forward and handed me a document.

"Sign this, and everything will be forgiven. Things between you and Mr. Montgomery can go back to how they were."

I stared at the bold, black title at the top "Statement of Forgiveness", and almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"I'm not signing that."

"Lorraine lost her parents young," Renald said softly. "She's never suffered like this. A detention center would crush her."

"Danica, be good."

"I said I'm not signing!" I shouted, my voice breaking.

The next instant, the assistant grabbed my arm and twisted it hard.

"Ah—!"

Pain shot through every nerve in my body.

He forced my hand down, dragging the pen across the paper to scrawl my name. Then he pressed my fingers into the red inkpad and stamped it on the page.

Renald stood silently beside us, watching the entire scene unfold.

Sweat soaked my hospital gown. I looked up at the man I had loved for so many years, my voice trembling.

"Renald... you're doing this to me—for her?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned to his assistant and ordered calmly, "Call the doctor. Get the best medicine for her hand. Make sure she's well taken care of."

—

For the next few days, he didn't come by again, and only sent text messages.

[The mine collapsed. I'm tied up right now.]

[Don't stay angry. Once you're discharged, I'll take you to the city to relax.]

[Does your hand still hurt? Take care of yourself.]

But every time his messages arrived, another message from Lorraine would follow—each one a dagger to the heart.

She sent countless photos of Renald beside her, pouring her water. Massaging her shoulders. Using the same self-defense knife he'd never let me touch... to peel apples for her.

That night, my hand throbbed so badly I couldn't sleep. Against all reason, I found myself calling him.