Rosalie Taylor and Duncan Hernandez were widely known in their circles as sworn enemies.

They had been at each other's throats ever since they got married five years ago.

On their wedding night, he revealed her explicit photos, and she responded by smashing a bottle over his head. When he brought another woman home after a night of partying, she shattered his most treasured antique vase. At a business banquet, after he embarrassed her in front of everyone, she splashed red wine all over his face.

But soon, none of this would matter anymore.

Rosalie looked down at the diagnosis in her hand: stage 4 stomach cancer. The doctor's voice still rang in her head. "You have about two weeks left."

Strangely, she didn't feel upset. Instead, she felt relieved, like a heavy burden had been lifted.

Her phone started buzzing, and messages popped up one after another.

"Rosalie! Check the group chat right now!"

"Has Duncan lost his mind?"

"He just put you up for auction—for one night with you!"

Rosalie's fingers froze mid-scroll. For a moment, it felt like the blood in her veins had stopped flowing.

"Duncan, you heartless bastard!" she cursed inwardly.

She grabbed her car keys and rushed out, racing toward the auction venue.

Brilliant light flooded the auction hall. Duncan, dressed in a black suit, lounged lazily in the auctioneer's seat, with a girl in a white dress sitting beside him.

Rosalie's heart clenched the moment she saw the girl's face.

It was Valerie Scott.

She was the stand-in Duncan had found for Rosalie's older sister—the one who resembled her more than any of the others.

On the huge screen, Rosalie's explicit photos were displayed for everyone. Below the stage, a crowd of men eagerly raised their paddles, bidding fiercely.

"300 thousand dollars!"

"500 thousand dollars!"

"800 thousand dollars!"

Finally, a bald man stood up, trembling with excitement. "Eight million dollars! For a night with Ms. Taylor!"

Gasps and shocked whispers filled the room.

Rosalie stood there, completely frozen, her eyes fixed on Duncan.

Without glancing at her, Duncan nodded and said, "Sold!"

Filled with excitement, the bald man walked over, his eyes roaming lewdly over Rosalie. "Mr. Hernandez, can I really take her with me?"

"Absolutely," Duncan replied with a slight smirk, though his eyes were cold. "Once the money's in, she's all yours."

Those words cut through Rosalie like a blade.

As the bald man reached out to grab her, she snatched the wine bottle off the table and smashed it straight onto his head with a loud crash.

Glass shattered everywhere, and blood started dripping down his face.

"You think you can touch me?" she sneered, her voice shaking with rage. "Whoever won the bid tonight, I'll pay you double. Now get out!"

The hall fell into dead silence.

Duncan suddenly let out a chuckle and applauded, like he was genuinely impressed. "Some things never change. The heiress still bites."

He stepped closer, leaned in, and whispered into her ear, his breath brushing against her skin, "But if I can auction you off once, I can do it twice, three times..."

He paused, then said with a wicked smile, "Tell me, how much money have you got to buy yourself out of this?"

Rosalie looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Duncan, do you really hate me that much?"

"Hate?" His gaze turned razor-sharp, as if her question was some kind of sick joke. "You're the reason the two people I cared about most are dead—what do you think?"

Rosalie's heart clenched, as if an invisible hand had wrapped around it and squeezed hard.

Her mind drifted to Duncan's older brother, Julian Hernandez—the one who always wore a gentle smile.

From childhood to youth, he had always fulfilled her wishes and treated her with endless kindness. When she first started feeling romantic emotions, it was only natural that she would fall for this kind and thoughtful older brother.

Duncan, on the other hand, had feelings for her older sister, Angela Taylor—a soft-spoken girl with a gentle voice and smiling eyes.

Back then, the four of them would hang out all the time. Rosalie and Duncan were always bickering, while Julian and Angela would stand aside, watching them with helpless smiles.

Until one day...

Julian held Angela's hand and told their parents they were getting married.

It felt like a thunderbolt had struck Rosalie. She locked herself in her room and cried the entire night. Unable to face reality, she ran away without thinking.

Worried, Julian and Angela went out looking for her, but they got into a car accident on the way and didn't survive.

During that time, Rosalie spent her days visiting their graves, crying until she nearly passed out.

Duncan was the one who carried her away, wiped her tears, and stayed by her side through the hardest time of her life.

Whenever she had bad dreams, he'd quickly switch on the light. When she didn't have an appetite, he cooked meals just for her. When she woke up crying at night, he quietly gave her warm water to calm down.

Over time, she grew to lean on his comfort and support.

One evening, Duncan suddenly said, "Rosa, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Rosalie froze.

"I'll take care of you for the rest of my life," he added gently, his eyes so deep that her heart skipped a beat. "You've fallen for me, too, haven't you?"

Yes, he was right.

He had pulled her out when she was about to drown, lighting up her world when everything was dark. During that time, she had indeed fallen for the boy she used to argue with as a child.

So, she said yes.

On the wedding day, Rosalie wore a pure-white wedding gown and held her bouquet tightly, her hands shaking with nervousness. She truly believed this was the start of a new life.

Until the large screen in the banquet hall suddenly turned on, displaying her private photos!

"How do you all like Mrs. Hernandez's body?" Duncan stood on the stage with a mocking smile. "Think of these photos as my wedding present to you all."

Rosalie stood frozen, her whole body going numb.

She said, her voice shaking, "Duncan... What... is this?

"What is this?" He stepped down from the stage, grabbed her by the chin, and stared coldly into her eyes. "You caused the deaths of my brother and Angela. Did you really think I could ever love you? I married you just to trap you and make you pay for what you did for the rest of your life!"

Rosalie let out a broken laugh, her entire body turning ice-cold. As whispers and gasps filled the room, she grabbed a nearby champagne bottle and slammed it against his head!

After that day, their marriage turned into a long, bitter war between them.

Now, five years had passed.

Neither of them had truly moved on.

"I didn't mean for things to happen in the past..." Rosalie's hands shook as she gripped the medical report tightly. Her voice was shaking. "Duncan, can we please just stay peaceful for these two weeks? No more fighting? After that, everything between us will be over."

She would have died in two weeks anyway. Once she was gone, so would the hatred.

Duncan let out a short laugh, as if she'd made a joke. "So now you've learned to lie? And what exactly do you think you can do to end all of this?

"Rosalie, the fight between us won't stop until one of us is dead."

A cold chill spread through Rosalie's heart.

What a deadly fight this had become.

She said in a quiet voice, "You'll understand in two weeks. By then, I'll make things right."

Duncan gave a mocking laugh. "Fine. I'll be waiting to see how you plan to repay for taking two lives!"

After those harsh words, Duncan left the auction with Valerie, while Rosalie returned home in complete disarray.

Duncan didn't come back that night.

The following morning, news headlines were full of photos showing Duncan and Valerie entering and exiting a hotel late at night.

Rosalie scrolled through the photos with a blank expression. In the photos, Valerie wore a simple white dress, her soft features resembling Angela's—about 70% alike.

Over the years, he had found many women to replace Angela, but none matched this closely.

That's why this one had become his favorite.

She set her phone down and quietly continued eating her breakfast. Her stomach hurt again, but she was long used to the pain.

Just then, the door swung open. Duncan entered, still in his suit. When he saw her sitting at the dining table, he frowned. "Why are you still here?" he asked coldly.

With a mocking tone, he added, "Didn't you promise to make things right in two weeks? Why aren't you preparing for that?"

Rosalie glanced at him, but before she could answer, her stomach twisted painfully, and a metallic taste filled her mouth.

She stood up quickly and ran into the bathroom, bending over the sink and throwing up blood.

One of the servants cried out, "Is Mrs. Hernandez having morning sickness?"

Duncan's face darkened, and he hurried over, grabbing her wrist. "Are you pregnant?"

His mind flashed back to that night two months ago, when they had spent a wild night together after he got drunk.

He said coldly, "Go to the hospital and get an abortion. Is this your plan? Using a baby to make me stop hurting you?"

Rosalie yanked her hand away, trying to stay upright through the pain. "Relax. I'm not pregnant. I would never carry your child."

Duncan didn't believe her and pulled her along. "We're going to the hospital."

Rosalie yanked her arm back. "I'm not going anywhere!"

He scowled, his tone showing irritation. "You've never been scared of hospitals before. What's different now? Something's obviously wrong with you!"

She let out a bitter laugh. "You're right. There's something wrong with me."

"Fine. You won't go?" he snapped. He turned to the servant nearby and said coldly, "Bring me some abortion medicine."

The servant didn't dare say a word and quickly returned with a cup of thick, almost black liquid.

Duncan grabbed Rosalie's jaw, forcing her mouth open. "Drink it."

She clenched her teeth tightly, but he still managed to pour the medicine into her mouth.

As the liquid slid down her throat, her stomach felt like it was on fire. She collapsed to the floor, trembling as sweat soaked through her clothes.

"Ugh!" she gagged.

She suddenly coughed up blood, her eyes blurred, and everything went dark as she lost consciousness.

"Rosalie!"

Duncan called out, his voice tinged with panic, but she could no longer hear it clearly.

When she slowly regained consciousness, faint voices drifted around her.

"The patient isn't pregnant, so why did she take abortion medicine? We have no choice but to do a gastric lavage immediately," the doctor muttered, trying to keep his voice low.

Rosalie tried to force her eyes open, but her body was too weak to respond.

When the cold gastric tube slid down her throat, pain shot through her body and made her shake.

Her stomach, already damaged by advanced cancer, felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside.

"Hang in there," a nurse whispered gently, continuing the procedure with visible worry.

Every second stretched like an eternity. Rosalie gripped the bedsheet with all her might as sweat drenched her clothes.

When she was finally wheeled out of the operating room, the anesthesia was starting to wear off.

Her eyelids fluttered open just in time to see the attending doctor holding an examination report, speaking to Duncan in a cautious tone, "Mr. Hernandez, your wife's condition is worse than we thought..."

"What's the big deal?" Duncan cut in, sounding annoyed. "She just took some random medicine. Now that her stomach has been pumped, how bad can it be?"

The doctor paused before speaking. "It's more than just the abortion medicine. The tests also show she has a stomach..."

"I have a stomach problem. I know it. No need to report it to him," Rosalie interrupted, her voice rough.

She looked away, not meeting Duncan's eyes. "He doesn't care about stuff like that anyway."

Duncan gave a cold laugh. "That's right, your health isn't my concern. As long as you're not dying, I don't care."

He started to walk out, but his phone rang.

"Duncan, where are you? I miss you..." came Valerie's sweet voice on the line.

He looked over at the bed and smirked. "I'm at the hospital. If you miss me, come here."

After ending the call, he glanced at Rosalie, a mocking smile on his face. "Didn't you hope I'd spend the next two weeks with you? Alright, I'll give you that now."

Soon, Valerie opened the door. She froze when she noticed Rosalie, then quickly went to Duncan's side.

He pulled her close and kissed her.

Blushing, Valerie kissed him back, the two of them caught up in the moment while completely ignoring Rosalie lying nearby.

Rosalie's face turned ghostly pale. She felt nauseated.

Without thinking, she grabbed the vase next to her and threw it.

"Get out! Just looking at you makes me sick!" Rosalie shouted.

Duncan quickly turned and shielded her with his back, but some broken glass still hit Valerie's face...

"Duncan..." Valerie covered her cheek with both hands, eyes filling with tears. "My face..."

Duncan's eyes narrowed, and his expression darkened immediately.

Without thinking, he scooped Valerie into his arms, panic in his voice like Rosalie had never heard before. "Don't touch the wound!"

He barked at the bodyguard near the door, "Call the head of dermatology! No—fly in the best foreign specialists by helicopter! Now!"

Rosalie stayed seated on the hospital bed, watching him disappear down the hallway with Valerie in his arms. His worried voice still echoed, "Use the best medicine. She can't be left with a scar!"

It felt like someone was tearing her heart apart with a dull knife.

She glanced down at her hand, filled with marks from needles, and gave a bitter smile.

How ironic.

Valerie only slightly resembled her sister, yet he panicked like this.

And her? The legitimate wife? She couldn't even get a glance from him.

Another sharp pain stabbed through her stomach. Rosalie curled up as sweat soaked through her hospital gown.

She stayed in the hospital for a few days.

Every day was filled with endless pills, constant injections, and unbearable stomach cramps that felt like being sliced from the inside.

She'd grown so thin she was nearly unrecognizable. Her hair was falling out in handfuls. Even the nurses, feeling sorry for her, slipped her extra painkillers in secret.

That day, Duncan stormed into the ward with a dark expression and yanked her off the bed.

He said coldly, "Valerie's face was nearly ruined. You must be thrilled, aren't you?"

Rosalie weakly tried to defend herself. "It was just a few small cuts..."

"Enough!" Duncan shouted, cutting her off. "Rosalie, since you dared to hurt my people, you're going to pay for this."

Before she could say anything more, two bodyguards grabbed her and dragged her toward the stairwell.

The floor was littered with sharp pieces of broken glass.

Duncan demanded, "Get down there. If you do, I'll pretend none of this ever happened."

Clinging to the railing, Rosalie cried out, "Duncan, she's not even my sister! Have you completely lost your mind?"

He replied with a twisted expression, "As long as she reminds me of Angela, that's enough. If you won't take the blame, fine. Guard, push her!"

The bodyguard pushed Rosalie hard.

"Ah!"

Rosalie lost her balance and tumbled down the staircase, her body slamming into the steps. Broken glass cut into her skin, and blood started trailing down behind her.

She tried to get up, though her vision was blurry. Before she could steady herself, someone yanked her up, only to throw her down again.

A second time, a third time...

Until she couldn't move anymore, a mouthful of blood gushed out, soaking her shirt red.

When she finally woke up, quiet voices from the hallway reached her ears.

"Ms. Scott's small injury healed a long time ago. Mr. Hernandez is still always by her side. He treats her like a treasure."

"Yeah, meanwhile, the person in room 302 looks terrible. All bruised up, and no one even brings her meals..."

"Isn't she supposed to be the legal wife?"

"Hey, keep it down..."

Rosalie closed her eyes. Tears slid down without a sound.

She stayed in the hospital a few more days, but her condition kept worsening. The painkillers couldn't block the pain from her stomach cancer anymore.

Knowing there was no use staying, she signed herself out early.

When she got home, Duncan was in the living room. The moment he saw her walk in, he stood and headed toward his study, ignoring her.

Leaning weakly against the wall, Rosalie spoke quietly, "Duncan, the day after tomorrow is my birthday."

"So?" he replied, turning around.

"I want to spend my birthday with you. One last time," Rosalie said.

"One last time? Are you planning on dying or something?"

Rosalie gave a small smile. "Yeah, pretty much. So, are you going to spend it with me or not?"

Duncan assumed she was being dramatic and rolled his eyes. "Sure. I'll make sure to give you an unforgettable surprise."

He dragged out the word "unforgettable," lacing it with cruel intent.

On her birthday, Rosalie went to the hotel at the address Duncan had messaged her.

But as soon as she opened the door, she froze.

The entire hall was decorated like a funeral. Right in the middle stood a coffin, surrounded by arrangements of white lilies.

Her "memorial photo" hung on the wall. Everyone in the hall wore black clothes and had white flowers on their sleeves. The second they saw her walk in, everyone fell silent, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

"Do you like it?" Duncan stepped forward from the crowd, smirking. "Rosalie, this whole funeral is just for you."

Rosalie stared at her "memorial photo" and suddenly smiled. "Yeah. I do."

Duncan looked shocked for a split second, but then said coldly, "If that's the case, go ahead and stand there."

He raised his hand, and a few of his friends stepped out. They walked up and began lighting the candles in front of her.

"Better to die young and get it over with, Rosalie."

"Next time, don't piss off Duncan."

"Hope you have a peaceful trip."

Rosalie listened to each remark with a calm smile, taking them all in.

Once the celebration ended, she turned to walk away. But Duncan suddenly grabbed her arm and demanded, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rosalie looked at him and replied casually, "What do you mean?"

Duncan fixed his gaze on her. "Why don't you just wreck everything here? Isn't this the kind of humiliation you can't stand?"

Rosalie replied with a steady expression, "This doesn't feel like shame to me. I actually like the present you gave."

After all, she truly didn't have much time left.

Duncan continued to look at her, his anger slowly fading into confusion, and then turning into a cold smirk. "So now you're going soft instead of fighting back?"

He stepped in closer. "Let me make this clear, Rosalie. No matter what you try, I will never forgive you."

Rosalie kept quiet, her eyes calm as she stared at him.

Duncan, for some unknown reason, grew irritated by her gaze. Without another word, he turned and walked quickly out of the banquet hall.

When Rosalie got home, the pain in her stomach was so sharp she couldn't even stand up straight.

She hurried into the bathroom, bent over the sink, and coughed up blood. The deep red color stood out sharply against the pale tiles.

Hands trembling, she forced down some painkillers. Once the pain dulled, she took a hot bath.

While drying her hair afterward, she noticed a large clump of it stuck in the comb. Looking at her tired reflection in the mirror, she was struck by a frightening thought.

Maybe she didn't have more than two weeks left.

The following morning, Rosalie visited a small, old-fashioned photo studio.

"A memorial photo?" the studio owner asked, adjusting his glasses as he looked at the beautiful young woman in front of him. "Miss, you look so young. Why do you want to take a memorial photo?"

"I'm seriously ill, and I don't have much time left. Please take a nice photo of me," she answered with a gentle smile.

The owner sighed and softly adjusted her hair. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you look your best."

In front of the camera, Rosalie wore light makeup, her favorite red outfit, and smiled brightly, like the lively, fearless girl she used to be.

After the photos were taken, the owner asked, "Would you like to take the prints with you once they're ready?"

"No," Rosalie replied, shaking her head. "Please retouch them a little and send them to this address in a few days."

She wrote down her home address, planning to place the photo beside Angela's.

Once she left the photo studio, Rosalie made her way back to the Hernandez family's private chapel.

She stood quietly in front of the portraits of Julian and Angela, gently tracing the edges of the picture frames with her fingers.

Angela had a soft, warm smile in the photo, and Julian still wore that same kind expression, like he might step out of the frame and ruffle her hair just like he used to.

"Julian, Angela..." Her words were barely a whisper. "I'll be with you both very soon."

"The feud between our families..." She paused for a moment, and a single tear fell onto the memorial table. "It's finally coming to an end."

"Rosalie, who gave you permission to be here?"

A harsh voice rang out from behind. Startled, she jumped, and her elbow accidentally bumped into one of the frames.

Crash!

The loud sound of glass breaking echoed sharply in the quiet private chapel.

Duncan's expression turned cold. He rushed over and grabbed her wrist tightly. "Wasn't taking their lives enough for you? Now you're destroying their memorial photo, too?"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Rosalie tried to yank her arm free. "You startled me. If you hadn't startled me like that, I wouldn't have knocked it over!"

Duncan snapped, "Shut up! You're a murderer. You don't deserve to lay a finger on their things."

"I only came to visit them!" Rosalie shot back.

"Visit?" he scoffed, his eyes filled with rage. "Someone like you thinks she has the right?"

Suddenly, he dragged her outside. Rosalie stumbled, hitting her knee painfully against the door sill.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, gripping the doorframe so hard that her fingernails nearly broke. "Duncan, have you lost your mind?"

"You're the one who's lost it!" he snapped, throwing her back into the private chapel. "Fine. If you won't leave, then kneel right here and beg for forgiveness!"

The bodyguard quickly moved in and grabbed her by the shoulders. Rosalie fought back fiercely. "Leave me alone! I'll make up for what I've done, but not like this!"

Duncan's expression grew icy. He suddenly lifted his leg and kicked her hard in the knee.

"Ahh—"

Rosalie let out a cry of pain as she dropped to the floor, her knees hitting the shattered glass. Blood quickly spread across her skirt.

"Duncan..."

A soft voice came from the doorway. Valerie stood there nervously, holding up her gown. "Am I interrupting you..."

She barely moved forward before she let out a surprised "Oh no!" and slipped, knocking over a candlestick.

The fire immediately spread to the scattered photos, and the photos of Julian and Angela were slowly consumed by the flames.

Duncan's eyes narrowed in shock, but when he noticed the tears in Valerie's eyes, he froze.

That frightened expression looked just like Angela's used to.

"Duncan, I didn't mean to... Please don't be mad at me..." Valerie murmured as tears welled up in her eyes.

For a second, Duncan looked lost, then gently wiped away her tears. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

The moment felt like a dagger stabbing into Rosalie's heart.

She suddenly yanked herself free from the bodyguard's hold, charged forward, and slapped Duncan across the face. "Duncan, snap out of it!"

Her voice shook. "She's nothing more than a cheap stand-in, not my sister!"

Duncan's face turned cold. He seized her wrist, squeezing hard until her bones cracked. With a raspy voice, he said, "I know she's not.

"Then can you bring Angela back to me?!"

Rosalie tried to speak, but no words came out.

Her eyes filled with tears, and as she stared at Duncan's face so close to hers, the sadness overwhelmed her.

"Tie her up," Duncan said coldly, letting go of her. "Make her kneel and pay for what she's done."

The bodyguards tied her up with thick rope and forced her to kneel in the center of the private chapel.

Duncan walked away with Valerie without sparing her a single glance.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, and the private chapel was swallowed by darkness.

Still tied up, Rosalie collapsed to the ground. She couldn't hold back anymore, and the tears streamed down her cheeks.

She stared at Angela's burned photo, and a quiet, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Angela... Look at him. He doesn't even know what's real anymore.

"I'll be seeing you very soon...

"When the time comes, you can tell him yourself how ridiculous that copycat is, okay?"

Outside the private chapel, Duncan stood at the far end of the hallway, chain-smoking in silence.

Valerie walked over and tried to act sweet, but he brushed her off impatiently. "Go home."

"But Duncan..."

"I told you—leave."

Reluctantly, Valerie turned and walked away.

Duncan crushed his cigarette underfoot and glanced back at the tightly closed door of the private chapel. A strange heaviness pressed against his chest.

He thought he would feel satisfied. So why did it feel so hollow inside?

Rosalie had been kept tied up inside the private chapel for a full day and night. It wasn't until the following evening that they finally let her out.

Her body was sore all over, her knees hurt badly from kneeling so long, and she could barely stay on her feet.

When a servant tried to guide her back to her room, she just shook her head. "No need. I need to go out for a bit."

She understood her days were limited now, and she simply wanted to visit her parents one final time.

Outside the Taylor's residence, Rosalie stood across the street, looking at the familiar house from a distance.

It had been five long years since she married Duncan, and in all that time, she hadn't once come back.

At first, she only meant to look from a distance, but an old servant spotted her right away.

"Ms. Taylor?!" the servant gasped. "You've come home?"

Before Rosalie could say anything, her parents had already rushed out after hearing the commotion.

"Who told you to come back?!" Her father's face was livid. "Wasn't killing Angela enough? Now you have the nerve to come back?"

Her mother grabbed a broom and started hitting her with it. "Get out! The Taylor family doesn't have a daughter like you!"

The broom struck her back repeatedly, but Rosalie didn't dodge. She just silently endured it.

"Dad, mom..." Her voice choked up. "I just wanted to see you..."

"See what?!" Her father kicked her in the leg. "Go back to the Hernandez family!"

Rosalie was shoved to the ground, rainwater and mud soaking her clothes.

She struggled to get up, bowed three times heavily toward her parents, then turned and left.

The rain grew heavier as Rosalie wandered aimlessly through the streets, completely soaked.

A black sedan suddenly stopped beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Duncan's cold profile.

"Get in," he commanded.

Rosalie ignored him and continued walking in the rain.

"If you don't get in, I'll carry you in," Duncan sneered. "Choose one."

The car door swung open, and Rosalie had no choice but to get in.

Her wet clothes left water stains on the leather seats as she curled up in the corner like a drowned rat.

"How pathetic," Duncan glanced at her sideways. "Even your own parents don't want you. Someone like you will never be forgiven."

Rosalie quietly looked out the window as raindrops snaked down the glass like rivers.

The car didn't head home but stopped in front of an upscale club.

"What did you bring me here for?"

"To have some fun," Duncan dragged her out of the car. "What, scared?"

Inside the private room, the lighting was intimate. Valerie sat in the main seat, wearing a white dress. When she saw them enter, she immediately went over to link arms with Duncan. "Duncan, why are you just getting here? We've all been waiting for you to play games."

"Come on, let's play games!" Valerie's friend immediately started cheering. "The losers have to accept punishment!"

Not long after the game started, Duncan and Valerie "coincidentally" lost.

The friends exchanged glances and deliberately raised their voices. "Drink from each other's glasses! You have to drink from each other's glasses!"

Valerie blushed as she picked up her wine glass. Duncan's lips curved slightly upward as he glanced at Rosalie and linked arms with Valerie.

In the next round, Duncan and Valerie lost again.

"This round's punishment is even more exciting!" Another friend flipped over a card. "French kiss for five minutes!"

The room erupted in screams.

Duncan grabbed the back of Valerie's head and kissed her in front of everyone.

"Final round punishment! Pick her up and spin around!"

Duncan easily swept Valerie up in his arms and spun three circles amid everyone's cheering.

Valerie's white dress fluttered in the air as she wrapped her arms around Duncan's neck, laughing delightedly.

Rosalie noticed Duncan's occasional glances her way, as if waiting for her to break down.

But she just took a sip calmly, frowning slightly at the burning sensation in her stomach.

"I'm going to the restroom," she said, getting up. Her dress brushed against Duncan's knee.

In the restroom, Rosalie splashed cold water on her face.

The reflection in the mirror looked pale as a ghost. As soon as she pushed open the door, Valerie blocked the doorway.

"Pretending to be calm?" Valerie played with her newly done nails. "Too bad Duncan said he brought you here just to embarrass you."

Rosalie couldn't be bothered with her and tried to walk around her.

"You think you're still Mrs. Hernandez?" Valerie grabbed her wrist. "He told me personally that he married you just for revenge."

She leaned close to Rosalie's ear. "Even though I'm just a substitute, I'll eventually replace your sister's place in his heart."

Rosalie yanked her hand away forcefully. "It's one thing for him to bully me, but who the hell are you? You think you're worthy, too?"

"You!"

Valerie angrily grabbed Rosalie's collar, about to lose her temper, but caught sight of Duncan approaching from the corner of her eye. Her expression immediately changed as she let go and leaned backward.

"Ah!"

With a scream, Valerie fell backward.

When Duncan rushed over, Valerie was covering her bleeding forehead and sobbing, "Duncan, don't blame Ms. Taylor. You were so intimate with me today, she got jealous, that's why she..."

"Rosalie!" Duncan scooped up Valerie, his eyes frighteningly fierce. "Wasn't killing your sister enough? Now you want to kill her too? Do you know she's the replacement I found who looks most like Angela!"

The ambulance siren grew louder as it approached.

Duncan carefully carried Valerie into the ambulance. Before leaving, he stared hard at Rosalie, "If anything happens to her, I'll make your life worse than death."

Rosalie stood on the steps, rain soaking the hem of her dress.

She suddenly laughed, laughed until tears came out.

Worse than death?

She was already living in hell.

Rosalie went home alone. Duncan never called her again, but she knew it wouldn't end that easily.

Sure enough, at 3:00 a.m., the villa's front door was kicked open violently.

Duncan walked in with a dark expression, yanked off Rosalie's blanket, and dragged her outside by the wrist.

"Get up!" His voice was cold as ice. "Go to the hospital and give Valerie a blood transfusion."

Rosalie stumbled as he dragged her, sharp pain shooting through her stomach, "I didn't push her..."

"Cut the crap!" Duncan shoved her into the car. "She lost too much blood. You have the same blood type, so you're responsible."

The harsh white lights in the hospital corridor hurt Rosalie's eyes.

She was pushed into the blood collection room. A nurse approached with a syringe but hesitated when she saw her pale complexion, "Mr. Hernandez, this woman's blood can't be drawn..."

"Why not?" Duncan coldly interrupted.

The nurse looked down at the test results. "She has a medical condition. She's already in the final stage of cancer..."

"Final stage of cancer?" Duncan sneered, looking mockingly at Rosalie. "Rosalie, you're really something, even bribing the nurses."

Rosalie opened her mouth but was pressed down onto the blood collection chair, "Draw her blood!"

The moment the needle pierced her vein, Rosalie's fingertips trembled from the pain.

Blood flowed slowly through the tube as her vision gradually blurred.

"Draw more." Duncan's voice seemed to come from far away. "Valerie needs it."

Rosalie watched as bag after bag of her blood was taken away, her vision darkening repeatedly.

Before completely passing out, the last thing she saw was Duncan's back as he walked toward Valerie's room without glancing her way.

When she opened her eyes again, a nurse was changing her IV drip.

Seeing her awake, the nurse couldn't help but sigh, "Ms. Taylor, why didn't you tell him you have cancer? Drawing this much blood will accelerate the progression of your condition."

Rosalie stared at the ceiling, her voice barely audible, "There's no point."

Because he wouldn't believe it, and he wouldn't care.

Rosalie stayed in the hospital for a day, overhearing the nurses' quiet gossip.

"Mr. Hernandez really cares about Ms. Scott. He didn't sleep all night..."

"Absolutely, he even wiped her face and fed her personally..."

She didn't want to listen anymore. She pulled out the IV needle and checked herself out immediately.

Back home, her phone kept buzzing.

Valerie had sent over a dozen photos—Duncan carefully wiping her face, spoon-feeding her oatmeal, and gently tucking her blanket.

Looking at the photos, Rosalie suddenly smiled.

In his lifetime, Duncan had only truly cared about three people.

One was her sister, one was her during their fraudulent marriage, and one was the current replacement.

She didn't reply. Instead, she took out a lighter from the drawer and threw everything related to Duncan into the fireplace, one by one.

The gifts he gave her during their deception, their couple photos, the matching necklaces he bought...

The flames consumed these false memories, just like they were consuming what little remained of her life.

When Duncan pushed open the door, he saw Rosalie kneeling by the fireplace, the flames reflecting off her pale profile.

"What the hell are you burning?" He rushed over, grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her against the wall. "Who gave you permission to touch Angela's things?!"

Rosalie was being choked so hard she couldn't breathe, her fingers weakly clawing at his wrist.

Duncan flung her to the ground, knocking over the brazier and sending sparks flying everywhere.

"I'm warning you, Rosalie, if you dare touch a single one of Angela's belongings, I'll make you wish you were dead!"

With that, he grabbed her wrist in a rage and pressed it directly into the still-burning brazier.

"Ah—!"

The acrid smell of burning flesh instantly filled the air.

Rosalie convulsed in pain, her vision going black in waves.

She struggled desperately, her other hand groping blindly until she finally grabbed a decorative cobblestone.

"Bang!"

The stone struck Duncan hard on the temple, making him cry out and release his grip.

Rosalie immediately pulled her arm back, only to see that from her wrist to her forearm, a patch of hideous blisters had already formed.

"Look closely..." Her voice trembled with pain as she pointed at the half-burned photo on the floor. "I'm burning... my own things. Duncan, are you blind?!"

Duncan froze, looking down to see half of their photo on the ground, Rosalie's radiant smile being slowly devoured by the flames.

A jolt ran through his heart. "You..."

Before he could finish, the shrill ring of a phone suddenly cut through the air.

Valerie's tearful voice came through the receiver: "Duncan, my wound has reopened, it hurts so much..."

Duncan's expression changed, and he turned to leave at once.

"Burn it," he said without looking back, "burn all your worthless junk for all I care."

At the door, he paused again: "Every moment I forced myself to get close to you back then, I felt sick!"

The door slammed shut. Rosalie stared at the dying embers in the brazier, then closed her eyes in agony.

After Duncan stormed out, Rosalie sat in front of the brazier the entire night.

At dawn, she slowly got up and dragged her exhausted body to the bathroom.

The woman in the mirror was so thin she was unrecognizable, the burn on her wrist hideous and terrifying, like an ugly centipede coiled on her skin.

Her pale face seemed to be a reminder of her life slipping away.

In the days that followed, Duncan never came back.

But the news was flooded with stories about him and Valerie.

The president of the Hernandez Group spent a fortune on a mansion for his beloved, Duncan attended a charity gala with his new flame...

Rosalie turned off the TV, picked up her phone, and dialed Duncan's number.

It rang for a long time before it was finally answered.

"What is it?" Duncan's voice was cold and distant, with Valerie's coquettish laughter audible in the background.

Rosalie gripped the phone tightly. "Come back, just once."

"I'm busy."

"The half-month is up," she said softly. "The answer I promised you is ready."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then Duncan let out a cold laugh: "Rosalie, how long are you going to use that excuse to trick me? Do you really think I'll believe you again?"

"I'm telling the truth..."

"Enough!" Duncan cut her off sharply. "Valerie and I are on vacation. I don't have time for your games!"

The call was abruptly ended. Rosalie held up her phone, listening to the busy tone, and suddenly started to laugh.

But as she laughed, tears began to fall.

Duncan, it seems that even our last meeting is now impossible.

As dusk settled outside the window, Rosalie changed into a bright red dress. She took one last look around the place she had called "home" for five years, then gently closed the door behind her.

The taxi stopped at Longfellow Bridge. After paying the fare, Rosalie slowly walked to the center of the bridge.

The night wind was chilly, lifting the hem of her dress and her long hair.

The river shimmered with ripples, reflecting the lights on both banks. It was beautiful, like a dream.

This was the very place where Julian and Angela had their accident years ago.

Leaning over the railing, Rosalie felt as if she could see the scene from that day.

Julian gripped the steering wheel tightly, while Angela anxiously dialed her phone beside him, her voice urgent: "Rosa, pick up the phone..."

The rain was pouring down, and a truck on the opposite side lost control and barreled toward them...

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, "If I hadn't run away from home so willfully, none of this would have happened to you..."

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her stomach. Rosalie bent over and vomited a mouthful of blood.

The bright red liquid splattered onto her red dress, blooming like crimson plum blossoms.

She knew she didn't have much time left.

"Julian... Angela..." She let go of the railing, her red dress whipping in the wind. "I'm coming to find you."

In the distance, the sunset was as red as blood, and the river glimmered with golden light.

Rosalie closed her eyes and took a step forward.

The moment her body fell, the icy river water rose up to meet her.

How wonderful.

Duncan, I have let you go.

Please... let me go too.

From now on, we are separated by life and death, and owe each other nothing.

In the bar, the music was deafening. Under the dim, multicolored lights, countless bodies swayed and danced to the beat on the dance floor.

Duncan lounged carelessly against the bar, absentmindedly swirling the drink in his glass.

His brows were slightly furrowed, but his gaze kept returning to the call screen on his phone.

After he hung up just now, Rosalie hadn't stubbornly called back over and over again as she usually did. How strange!

Heh, he knew all those words she said about letting go of their grudges were just lies.

Even so, his fingers tapped the table much more rapidly, and a hint of irritation showed on his sharp features.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated several times beside him. The ringtone was barely audible over the bar's blaring music, but Duncan caught it instantly.

He deliberately let the phone ring for a while before answering at a leisurely pace.

"Rosalie, I already told you I'm not coming back. I don't want to hear your so-called explanation. I plan to keep tormenting you for the rest of your life. Do you still not get it?"

"Or have you come up with some new trick to fool me? I won't believe you!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the police officer on the other end of the line fell silent for a moment before cautiously speaking up:

"Mr. Hernandez, are you the husband of Ms. Rosalie Taylor? Her body was found near Longfellow Bridge. After investigation, we learned she had stage 4 stomach cancer and knew she didn't have much time left, so she jumped into the river to end her life. Please come to the Charlestown Police Station as soon as possible to claim the body."