Back when Maurice Clifford was head over heels for me, he donated one of his own corneas to me.

For ten years, through thick and thin, I'd helped him secure his spot as the leader of both the legitimate and underground worlds in Seattle.

He showered me with love and respect.

That lasted until his new young mistress, Daphne Rodd, showed up at my door with a baby bump to provoke me.

"You're Mr. Clifford's ex-wife, right?

"I heard you slept around and wrecked your health, so he dumped you.

"I'm not like you. I've never been with any man but Mr. Clifford. He says I'm his one true love, like a white tulip. And you? You're not pure."

I seized her by the throat and shoved her down, submerging her entirely in the pool's freezing water.

Watching her writhe in pain as the cold made her miscarry, I chuckled, "Did Maurice tell you I'm a crazy woman?"

I pulled her head out of the water.

Daphne choked on the water, her delicate face turning pale from the immersion.

She coughed violently. "How dare you do this to me? Mr. Clifford will make you pay!"

I looked down and saw a tulip tattoo on her right shoulder, visible through the wet fabric of her shirt.

Maurice had one on his shoulder, too.

That tattoo covered a scar he'd gotten from a machete. Back then, I got kidnapped by his enemies and locked in a warehouse with hundreds of their men.

He'd risked his life, charged in alone, and got slashed with a machete.

Later, he had the scar tattooed over to mean "unpredictable death and love".

"Kylie, don't you think this fits us?" he'd said back then.

He lifted his blood-stained hand and gently brushed my cheek.

I'd never forget how that felt.

I couldn't tell if the heat came from his blood, his touch, or the sincerity in his words.

"We never know when our last day will come. But my love for you is certain until my final breath."

But now, he'd grown tired of living on the edge. He began to crave something pure—a woman he saw as a white tulip.

In the pool, Daphne was still glaring at me defiantly.

That look was familiar, too. It reminded me of when I was eighteen.

"Kyleigh, just give up! You're an old woman now. Do you actually think you stand a chance against me for Mr. Clifford's heart?

"If you hurt me, you'll pay for it.

"Do you know how much I mean to him?"

Of course, I knew alright.

In the two years since Maurice and I split, he'd had countless women.

But only Daphne had been brought out publicly. He'd proudly told the media she was his girl and warned everyone not to mess with her.

Crossing her meant going against the entire Clifford Group.

The Clifford Group's skyscraper, which had never run ads before, now displayed Daphne's photos on its outer screen 24 hours a day.

It was just as bold and showy as when he'd used a thousand helicopters to fly banners all over Seattle, announcing our relationship to the world.

He'd wanted everyone to know back then, and he wanted everyone to know now.

That was just how Maurice loved someone.

I smiled, but a sting of sadness welled up in my eyes.

"Then why don't you call him to come save you? Or you're afraid that once he sees me, he'll fall for me again and leave you?"

"You..." Daphne's voice caught, like I'd hit a nerve.

But she quickly put on a smug expression.

"Kyleigh, stop fooling yourself. The Thornfield family is already bankrupt. You're useless to him now.

"You can't even do the one basic thing a woman can—have kids. What makes you think Mr. Clifford would still care about you?

"Your arrogance is just..."

Before she could finish, I grabbed her hair and forced her whole body under the water.

At first, Daphne flailed a bit, but soon she lost the strength to struggle, her body going limp in the pool.

When she stopped breathing, I finally let go and told my people to fish her out.

Her long hair clung to her body like some kind of sea creature—nothing like the sweet, innocent look she had on the big screens.

I should've laughed at how pathetic she looked.

But instead, I just smoothed my short hair, ruffled by the night breeze.

Calmly, I dialed a number I'd memorized over a decade ago.

He hadn't changed it, and I hadn't forgotten it.

"Maurice, your little white tulip is with me. Come and get her."

The moment the call connected, I clearly heard Maurice's heavy breathing.

"Kyleigh Thornfield."

It had been two years since I'd heard my name from his lips.

Now it came with a cold, unfamiliar tone of accusation. "What did you do to Daphy?"

"Oh, her..." I casually kicked Daphne, who was unconscious.

My voice carried a lazy hint of amusement. "A mistress came to provoke me personally. With my temper, what do you think I'd do to her?"

Honestly, Maurice and I knew each other better than anyone else in the world.

I knew his paranoia. And he'd seen how crazy I'd be.

The sound of a shattering glass came from the other end.

Maurice became anxious, as expected.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady as he negotiated with me, "Kyleigh, take your anger out on me. Leave Daphy alone.

"She's just an innocent girl. If she accidentally offended you somehow, just let it go, alright? Don't hold it against her."

The pool water reflected the cold moonlight and my own expressionless face.

"Too late, Maurice."

I enunciated each word slowly, "She's already pissed me off. So, having her pay with her life seems fair, doesn't it?"

A loud bang sounded again on the other end of the phone.

This time, it was the sound of a table flipping over.

I listened calmly, almost able to picture his furious expression.

"Fine, Kyleigh. Kill her if you've got the guts!"

The call ended abruptly.

Less than twenty minutes later, the screech of tires sounded outside the courtyard.

I looked instinctively at the eyes of the man leading the group.

When we were deeply in love, I'd kissed the black eyepatch over his right eye countless times.

It always earned me his fiercer affection.

But now, Maurice's gaze went straight to Daphne, who curled up on the ground.

That familiar look of panic and tenderness in his eyes stung mine.

I laughed, "Relax. She's still alive. But I'm not sure about that bastard in her belly."

Maurice's handsome face darkened, but he didn't immediately rush over to pick Daphne up.

Instead, he walked toward me until we were standing barely a pace apart.

"Kyleigh," he said, his voice low with an unyielding intensity. "Explain yourself."

He held a cold gun barrel against my waist.

I didn't even blink.

"Even if everyone in Seattle thinks we're through, you and I know the truth, don't we, Maurice? We never signed the divorce papers. When your mistress comes to provoke me, do you expect me to offer her coffee?"

Maurice's face stayed blank as he shoved the gun harder against me. "That doesn't justify touching her."

A smirk touched my lips. I grabbed the barrel and directed it upward toward my own heart. "Pull the trigger, Maurice."

"You think I won't dare?" His lips twisted into a grimace, the warning in his voice unmistakable. "Kyleigh, your family is finished. You're not that untouchable heiress of the Thornfield family anymore.

"If you cross me now, who do you have to back you up? Who's left to protect you?"

The air was filled with tension, the metallic hint of blood barely perceptible.

I yanked the dagger I'd buried in his abdomen free and dropped it carelessly on the ground.

"Since you didn't pull the trigger, don't blame me for making the first move. Traitors go to hell. Don't forget that."

My fingertips brushed the collar of his shirt lightly.

I felt his body stiffen instantly.

Mocking him with my eyes, I slowly wiped the blood from my hands.

I pulled my hand back and told him, "Maurice, you and your people are all disgusting. I don't want to see any of you again. Get out!"

After speaking, I didn't spare another glance at his suddenly changing expression.

Taking a step back, I put distance between us, my posture detached.

Maurice's fists clenched, his knuckles turning pale.

Just then, Daphne coughed up a mouthful of water and woke up.

The second she saw him, she burst into tears.

"Maury, my stomach hurts so bad. Our baby... Did we lose our baby?" she sobbed.

"You can't let this bitch get away with it! She has to pay for our baby's life!"

Maurice crouched beside her, his voice patient and soothing. "It's alright, Daphy. You're still young. We'll have other babies later, alright?"

Those casual words tore open my most painful wound.

I wasn't young anymore. My body was rendered unable to conceive children long ago.

And I refused to believe Maurice had forgotten who was to blame for that—how dare he forget?

Five years ago, Maurice had almost monopolized the entire underground business of Seattle.

He handled things with ruthless arrogance, leaving no room for compromise. The enemies he'd made in private were too numerous to count.

The time a trap was set with a dinner Maurice couldn't refuse, I went in his place.

By the time Maurice got the news and rushed over, the three-month-old fetus inside me, along with my uterus, had been removed.

During that period, Maurice, a man who had never been religious, visited every church in town to pray for me and our lost, unborn child.

Then he got down on one knee and proposed to me.

He'd chosen that moment specifically, probably to comfort me.

Back then, Maurice held my hand tightly, his voice choked with emotion as he made his promise, "Kylie, marry me. I swear I'll always treat you right, protect you, love you...

"If I break this vow, may my body be torn to pieces and my soul never rest in peace!"

Now, ignoring his own bleeding wound, Maurice gently wiped the tears from Daphne's face and scooped her up into his arms.

As he walked past me, he paused.

"Kyleigh, let this be the first and last time you lay a hand on her. If you ever hurt her again, I'll never let you off!"

Maurice stared at me calmly, his voice low and cold. "Don't touch her again."

Daphne nestled weakly and helplessly against his chest.

But when she faced me, she flashed a smile full of provocation and smugness.

She mouthed the words: Barren slut.

The next second, I'd already grabbed her by the hair and slapped her.

"Kyleigh!" Maurice's voice rose, layered with a restrained threat. "I gave you a chance. You're forcing my hand."

Did he mean that all he had done for me—the blood and tears he shed, the confessions he made, the vows he swore—was nothing but me coercing him?

After Maurice carried Daphne away, the strength keeping me from collapsing seemed to drain from me instantly.

I looked down at my hands, clean now but still feeling stained with Maurice's blood.

These hands had taken a knife for him, held a gun for him, and once touched my slightly rounded belly with so much hope.

Now, I was left with nothing but coldness.

Marc, the butler who'd been waiting in the shadows, stepped forward and draped a blanket over my shoulders.

"Ms. Thornfield, the two-year deadline is almost up. Mr. Foxley from New York will be here soon..."

I snapped back to reality and gave a quiet response.

Two years ago, Maurice and I had a complete falling-out.

I'd slammed divorce papers in his face, and he'd torn them up right away.

"Kyleigh." He'd lifted an eyebrow, his smile shallow. "Between us, there's only widowhood—no divorce."

I closed my eyes.

"Marc, contact the lawyer. We'll start the litigation process."

I went to the cemetery to visit my late parents.

The black-and-white photos showed my parents' kind, smiling faces.

I stood before the gravestones and silently bowed three times.

Maurice had been the one who ruined my family.

On the day my family officially went bankrupt, my father jumped from the rooftop, and my mother swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

The memory remained etched in my mind: the ambulance siren's wail and the operating room light that went out after I waited in the hallway for hours.

"Kyleigh," a familiar voice came from behind me.

I didn't turn around.

Maurice sounded a little impatient, his voice dropping as he stated his purpose bluntly, "Daphy is upset about losing the baby. She's insisting I bring you to apologize to her."

I stood up and walked toward him. "Fine."

He seemed surprised I'd agreed so easily.

He narrowed his left eye slightly, suspicion and doubt in his gaze.

In the split second he was distracted, I was already at his side. I kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down hard onto the stone pavement.

Watching Maurice kneel before my parents' gravestones, I smiled with satisfaction. "You bow a hundred times first, and I'll agree to go."

Maurice's face contorted in rage. As he tried to rise, I pressed the cold barrel of his own gun to his head while his hand still fumbled for it at his waist.

Instantly, Maurice reached back to grab the gun. I frowned instinctively and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was mixed with a woman's scream.

"Oh! Stop!"

The recoil made my palm tingle.

I looked up to see that the bullet had barely grazed Maurice's cheek, leaving only a thin line of blood.

It added a touch of eerie charm to his already handsome, intimidating face.

I sighed with regret. "What a pity."

"Lunatic! You crazy bitch! You actually dared to shoot!" Daphne, who had arrived at some point, stared at me in disbelief.

I let out a cold laugh and pointed the gun directly at her.

Her face instantly turned pale with terror.

Maurice's expression was icy. He clamped his hand around my wrist.

As the pressure intensified, I could hear the bones in my hand beginning to crack.

"Kyleigh, now it's your turn."

Maurice forced me to my knees in front of Daphne.

Daphne lifted my chin with the tip of her high heel, a smug look on her face. "Apologize to me, Kyleigh.

"Lick my shoe clean, and I might consider forgiving you for your offense the other day."

I was made to kneel on the cold stone, yet I let out a hollow laugh. "Daphne, who do you think you are to deserve that?"

"Kyleigh, apologize now," Maurice warned me.

In the portrait beside us, my parents still looked at me gently.

I kept laughing, though my eyes started to sting.

"Maurice, have you forgotten who fought alongside you all those years?

"You destroyed my family and drove my parents to their deaths. Now you want me to apologize to your mistress on my knees!

"Don't you think you're a monster?"

Maurice frowned, but before he could speak, Daphne cut in to defend him, "Stop playing the victim, Kyleigh! Your parents' betrayal nearly got Maury killed at the dinner that day!"

I didn't hear what else Daphne said because I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room.

The doctor said I'd fainted from heart palpitations caused by extreme emotional stress.

My body had already been damaged after I lost the baby. It was an old condition flaring up.

The thought of my lost child sent a fresh, dull ache through me.

My phone buzzed with a taunting text from Daphne. Attached was a picture of two marriage certificates, stamped with today's date.

I was stunned.

Maurice actually committed bigamy?

"Kyleigh, you didn't know, did you?" the text read. "Your marriage certificate with Maury was a fake!

"He'd never actually marry a ruined woman like you. Your so-called marriage meant nothing. I'm his legal wife now."

If it were in the past, learning this truth probably would've shattered me.

But now, I felt strangely calm. I even felt a sense of relief.

It was better this way. It saved me the trouble.

I heard that the top auction house in Seattle had a religious statue as one of the items tonight.

No one was interested in it until I raised my paddle to bid.

Then, from a private booth on the second floor, someone countered.

I looked up and met Maurice's impassive gaze.

He had his arm around Daphne, who was looking up at him and whining, "Maury, we lost our baby. I want that statue to pray for him. Help me get it, okay?"

Maurice nodded in agreement.

After that, no matter how high I bid, he immediately topped it.

"Kyleigh, give up." Maurice looked down at me, his gaze detached. "Daphy wants it. Let her have it. Consider it your atonement."

I ignored him completely.

"I'll top it at any price," I announced.

Daphne's look of triumph instantly changed. "The Thornfield family is bankrupt! Where would she get that kind of money?"

The auctioneer also looked at me apologetically. "Ms. Thornfield, the rules require proof of your funds for such a bid."

I gave a slight nod and pulled a black card from my jacket. "Is this sufficient?"

Someone with sharp eyes recognized it immediately.

"Isn't that the exclusive black card for the head of the Foxley family from New York? How does she have it?"

"It has to be a fake! It's a forgery!" Daphne shrieked.

Maurice frowned as well. "Kyleigh, you don't need to embarrass yourself like this for pride. A lie this clumsy will be exposed soon."

I turned my head to look at him, my gaze settling on the black patch over his right eye. "Maurice, I'm starting to wonder if you're blind in one eye, or both?"

After verifying the card, the auctioneer gasped. "The black card is real!"

Just then, a commotion came from the main entrance.

"Mr. Foxley is here!"

Dominic Foxley strolled casually over to me. Under Maurice's furious, disbelieving stare, he calmly put his arm around my shoulders.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, honey."