"Julian Blackwood, go to hell."

Five years ago, nestled in the arms of a drug lord, I sneered and fired a shot straight into his heart.

Watching him plummet into the deep sea, I laughed recklessly, while tears streamed into my heart.

Five years later, I became "The Viper" who slipped through the net during that raid, dying of illness in a rental apartment.

My soul floated in mid-air, watching my daughter, who hadn't eaten in three days, dig out the mobile phone I had hidden in the sole of a shoe.

With her little hands red from the cold, she dialed the number saved as "King of Underworld."

"Uncle Julian, can you give me something to eat?"

On the other end of the line, the man's voice was dark and harsh: "Aria Vance, what game are you playing now?"

"Uncle, Mommy is asleep. Her body is so cold, and Emily is so hungry..."

In that moment, Julian, who hated me to the bone, went mad.

---

Emily nudged my stiff hand on the bed.

"Mommy, get up and take your medicine."

She pulled two white pills picked up from who knows where out of her pocket and stuffed them into my mouth, which was already clamped shut.

Emily froze, her little mouth trembling as tears pattered down.

"Mommy won't eat. Is Mommy going to leave Emily behind?"

I desperately wanted to rush down and hug her, to tell her that Mommy was right here.

But my hand passed right through her body.

I was a dead person; I couldn't even breathe warm air onto those little hands covered in chilblains.

The room was as cold as an ice cellar, with wind pouring in through the broken window.

Emily's stomach rumbled with hunger as she rummaged through the chests and cupboards.

The flour bin was empty; even the rats despised the poverty here.

Finally, she dug out that old mobile phone I had treasured for years.

There was only one contact in the address book—"King of Underworld."

I had told Emily countless times: "If one day Mommy doesn't wake up and there's no food left, find this person."

"But he's a big bad villain, so you have to be careful."

The moment the call connected, I heard the voice that made my very soul tremble.

"Who is this?"

Emily shivered in fright and cried out with a sob: "Uncle Julian..."

Julian's voice instantly turned cold and disgusted:

"Aria, you're making your daughter put on an act?

Aren't you tired of playing the victim?"

I wanted to cover my daughter's mouth.

I wanted to hang up the phone.

But I couldn't do anything.

Emily spoke into the phone, innocent yet despairing:

"Mommy is already dead. Can Uncle give me some bread?

Emily only wants half a piece."

Julian sneered: "Dead?

That's just great. Tell her to die somewhere far away and not dirty my eyes."

"Beep—"

The call was disconnected.

I watched Emily curl up in the corner clutching the phone, her head buried in her knees, her small body twitching with sobs.

"Mommy lied. Uncle won't give me bread. Uncle is so mean..."

I floated beside her, my formless tears hitting the ground without a sound.

Half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway.

"Bang!"

The rickety wooden door was kicked open.

Julian stood in the doorway, his gaze like a knife, scanning everything in the room.

Finally, his gaze landed on "me" on the bed.

But he didn't walk over.

He walked straight toward Emily in the corner.

Emily trembled in fear and held the phone up over her head.

"Uncle, I won't eat the bread anymore, please don't kill me..."

Julian's eyes were dark and predatory as he grabbed Emily's chin, forcing her to look up.

He studied that face—so terrifyingly similar to mine—while a tidal wave of hatred surged in his eyes.

"That woman's spawn?"

He sneered, flinging his hand away in disgust, as if he had touched something filthy.

"What is that smell on her?

Did you fish her out of the swill?"

I screamed from the side: "Julian!

Don't touch her!

If you're so disgusted, then get out!"

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands, and tossed it carelessly onto the ground.

"Aria really will use any dirty trick for money."

"Making such a small child play the victim? Pretending to be dead?"

He turned around and issued a cold order to the bodyguards outside.

"Search the place."

"Let's see how long she can keep up this act."

Julian stood in the center of the room, his brow furrowed tight.

He clearly hadn't expected that Aria—once so pampered, the center of everyone's world—would be living in a place worse than a pigsty.

He thought I was playing the victim, begging for sympathy.

"Mr. Blackwood, there are only a few old clothes in the closet."

"The flour bin is empty."

"There's no one else here."

Julian's gaze finally settled back onto the bed.

"Haven't you acted enough?"

Julian strode over, his leather shoes striking the floor with a sound that made my heart palpitate.

"Aria, you were so high and mighty when you shot me five years ago."

"Who are you playing dead for now?"

He reached out, intending to throw back the covers.

His hand paused in mid-air, his fingertips actually trembling slightly.

"Mr. Blackwood..."

The head bodyguard summoned his courage to step forward and checked "my" breathing.

His hand recoiled sharply, his face draining of color instantly.

"What is it?"

Julian's voice was taut.

The bodyguard lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Mr. Blackwood, the one on the bed... she's not breathing."

Julian's body went rigid, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"Not breathing?"

He forced a cold laugh from his throat, yet his eyes were terrifyingly panicked.

"How could she not be breathing?

She is The Viper, the police's best undercover agent, and the most vicious woman alive!"

"Her greatest talent is lying!

She can fake feelings; what's faking death to her?"

He lunged forward and ripped away the blackened cotton quilt covering me.

"Aria, get up!

Don't think this will make me forgive you!"

The moment the quilt was lifted.

Julian's pupils constricted violently, and he froze in place.

The person on the bed was nothing but skin and bones.

The clothes that once fit now hung loosely on her frame, revealing skin covered in festering wounds and purplish-black spots.

I weighed only sixty pounds before I died, like a withered skeleton wrapped in a layer of wrinkled human skin.

This was the woman he had hated for five years.

Julian's hand trembled as he reached toward my face.

"It's an act... you're wearing makeup, right?"

"Aria, open your eyes right now!"

He roared, but the moment his fingers touched my cheek, he recoiled as if shocked by electricity.

A bone-piercing cold—the specific temperature of a corpse, devoid of any sign of life.

"Stop bullying Mommy!"

Emily, finding strength from who knows where, rushed over and sank her teeth viciously into the back of Julian's hand.

"Bad man!

Go away!"

Julian winced in pain, instinctively flinging his hand away.

Emily was tossed to the floor like a rag doll. Her forehead struck the corner of the bed, instantly blooming with a red bruise.

"Emily!"

I lunged forward like a madwoman, desperate to shield her, but I merely passed right through her body.

Julian stared at the bite mark on the back of his hand, then down at the child on the floor, his eyes rimmed with red.

"Take her away!"

He turned his back, refusing to look at the corpse on the bed. His voice was so hoarse it sounded like he was chewing on gravel.

"Take the little one back."

The bodyguard hesitated. "And the older one...?"

Julian stood with his back to me, his fists clenching until the knuckles cracked.

"Throw her in the Mass grave."

"Since she loves death so much, let her rot there to her heart's content!"

Emily scrambled up, crying her heart out, reaching desperately for my hand.

"Mommy!

Mommy, don't leave Emily behind!"

"Bad uncle, give my mommy back to me!"

The bodyguard scooped Emily up and forcibly carried her out.

Emily was stuffed into the luxury car.

My corpse was tossed into a beat-up pickup truck behind them, actually being hauled toward the Mass grave.

The car sped along the road, driving into The Hilltop Estate.

Emily curled up in the corner of the leather seat, her filthy little hands clutching the seatbelt tightly, her eyes swollen like peaches.

She didn't dare cry out loud, only sobbing softly.

The car door opened, and Julian hauled Emily out.

Standing at the villa entrance was a woman with exquisite makeup—Lydia White.

Julian's current fiancée, and the very person who had "accidentally" leaked my identity back in the drug lord's den.

"Julian Blackwood, is this... that woman's child?"

She covered her nose and took a step back. "So dirty. Don't bring her inside; she's crawling with germs."

Julian ignored her and dropped Emily onto the wool carpet in the living room.

"Bathe her. Change her clothes."

Hot water poured over Emily's scar-covered body. She shivered in pain but gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out.

After the bath, Emily was stuffed into an ill-fitting princess dress.

She walked out and stood in the magnificent living room, looking completely lost and helpless.

Lydia walked over holding a cup of hot tea, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"Little one, you must be thirsty, right?

Have some tea."

She deliberately placed the scalding tea on the edge of the coffee table, right next to Emily's hand.

Emily was too thirsty; she hadn't had water in three days.

She instinctively reached out to take it.

"Don't touch it! It's hot!"

I screamed from mid-air.

"Ah!"

The cup tipped over, and boiling water splashed onto the back of Emily's hand, blistering the skin instantly.

"Oh my, why is this child so careless?"

Lydia exclaimed dramatically, "This is Julian's favorite carpet."

Julian looked up, his brow furrowed tight. All he saw was that Emily had knocked over the teacup.

"Clumsy."

He commented coldly.

Emily ignored the pain in her hand; she was terrified of being thrown out.

Trembling, she pulled half a moldy biscuit from a hidden pocket inside her clothes.

She walked over to Julian on her short little legs.

"Uncle, I won't drink water anymore. I won't dirty the carpet."

"Here, eat this."

"Mommy said you used to love this kind of biscuit. Even though it's moldy, you can still eat it if you scrape the skin off."

Julian looked at the nauseating biscuit, his face turning iron-gray.

"I don't eat trash!"

Julian swung his hand violently, slapping the cookie out of Emily's hand.

"That bitch mother of yours only deserves to eat trash!"

Slap!

The cookie shattered on the ground, crumbs flying.

Emily froze.

Suddenly, she dropped to the floor, using her scalded hand to pick up the crumbs bit by bit and stuff them into her mouth.

"Can't waste it... Mommy said I can't waste food..."

She cried as she stuffed her mouth, swallowing tears mixed with cookie crumbs.

"Stop eating!

Emily, stop eating!"

I knelt on the ground, trying to pull her up, but I couldn't touch her!

Julian was also stunned by this scene.

Just as he was about to scold her, Emily's whole body suddenly began to convulse violently.

Retch—

She vomited up all the cookies she had just eaten.

Immediately after, two streams of dark red blood gushed from her nostrils.

Emily collapsed onto the carpet, her tiny body spasming as if electrocuted.

Dark red nosebleed stained the white wool carpet, a shocking sight.

"Emily!"

I screamed shrilly, feeling as if my very soul were being torn apart.

Julian shot up, rushing over to scoop Emily up.

"What's happening?

Hey! Kid!

Don't play dead!"

As he lifted Emily, the collar of her oversized princess dress slipped down.

In that instant, Julian's pupils dilated in shock; Emily's frail back was densely covered in needle marks.

Bruised, swollen, and some already scabbed over.

"What is this?"

Julian's fingers brushed against the needle marks, recoiling as if burned.

Lydia was also startled, but she reacted quickly.

"Oh my god, is this child... a junkie?

Aria does drugs herself, and she makes her child do it too?"

"Shut up!"

Julian roared, his eyes looking murderous.

He picked Emily up and rushed outside.

"Get the car!

To the hospital!

Move!"

Emily gradually went still in his arms, her breathing weak as a gossamer thread.

Julian held her tight, his lips trembling slightly.

"Don't die... I forbid you to die..."

"Aria sent you to torture me, you haven't tortured me enough yet, how can you die?"

The light of the emergency room turned on.

Julian stood in the corridor, his expensive suit stained with Emily's blood and vomit.

He stood motionless, like a statue.

Lydia chased after him, holding tissues to wipe him down.

"Julian, don't let your clothes get dirty..."

"Get lost!"

Julian shoved her away with such force that Lydia stumbled and crashed into the wall.

Half an hour later, a doctor rushed out, sweating profusely.

"Who is the family?

The child is in critical condition!"

Julian stepped forward: "I am."

The doctor held the lab report, brows furrowed tight, his tone filled with anger and disbelief.

"How did this child survive?

Severe malnutrition, organ failure..."

"The most terrifying part is the massive residue of low-quality painkillers in her system!

This is practically a slow suicide!"

"Also, she suffers from an extremely rare hereditary blood disease, Rh-negative blood type, known as the rarest of the rare."

The doctor paused, looking at Julian with a hint of pity.

"This kind of blood disease is usually accompanied by family heredity."

Julian snatched the lab report, his eyes glued to the data.

That blood disease... it was a recessive gene unique to his family!

Only direct descendants of the Blackwoods possessed it!

Lydia's face went pale, but she kept fanning the flames: "Impossible!

This must be that random man's disease!

Julian, don't be fooled!"

"Aria spent five years messing around with drug lords. Who knows whose bastard she was carrying!"

"Shut up!"

Julian backhanded Lydia across the face, hard.

A crisp slap echoed through the corridor.

Lydia clutched her face, staring at him in disbelief.

Julian ignored her completely. He looked at the doctor, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"She needs a transfusion, right?"

The doctor nodded: "The blood bank is critical. This blood type is too hard to find..."

Julian yanked up his sleeve, revealing a muscular forearm.

"Take mine."

"I have Rh-negative blood type."

"I am her father."

The doctor immediately arranged for the blood draw.

After the blood was drawn, Julian slumped to the floor, his face as pale as paper.

Watching the bags of blood being rushed inside, he suddenly started laughing like a madman.

But as he laughed, tears began to stream down his face.

"She's my child..."

"Emily is my child..."

"Then these past five years... how on earth did Aria survive them?"

If Emily was his child, then how much had Aria suffered back then to protect her?

And he... he had just thrown the mother who risked everything for her child into the Mass grave.

Julian shot up from the ground and charged toward the elevator like a rabid beast.

"To the Mass grave!"

"Bring her back!

Hurry!

Bring her back!"