Eight years into their marriage, the High Society Circle's prodigal heir publicly declared he'd give half his shares to his virtuous wife Rebecca.

This so enraged his most cherished woman that she dashed into the road and was struck dead.

After her death, the heir descended into madness.

He unleashed his fury on Rebecca, personally delivering her to prison where she was tortured to death.

Reborn, Rebecca resolved to choose Charles—the tech prodigy who'd loved her hopelessly in her past life, future richest man.

Yet she'd awakened precisely when she'd just rejected Charles' proposal.

Worse still, she wasn't the only one reborn...

——

"Rebecca, since you've chosen Dennis, I'll let go. I won't bother you again.

May you and Dennis... have eternal happiness."

The achingly familiar voice, thick with restrained sorrow, pierced Rebecca's ears. Her heart clenched as bitterness flooded her.

She blinked hard, her blurred vision gradually sharpening.

Crimson roses carpeted the floor.

Before her stood a man holding a diamond ring—tall and straight-shouldered, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist, his presence cool as winter pine.

His deep almond eyes clearly reflected her own twenty-three-year-old self.

Rebecca's heart contracted violently.

She truly had been reborn!

And awakened on the very day she'd pushed Charles away!

"Goodbye, Miss Scott."

Charles snapped the ring box shut, swallowing the lump in his throat as he turned to leave.

"Charles!

Don't go!"

Rebecca desperately wrapped her arms around the man's lean waist from behind.

Charles' spine stiffened, his ears flushing crimson.

His hands moved to pry hers away: "Miss Scott, having chosen Dennis, you should stay faithful.

What's the meaning of clinging to me now?"

Hearing "Dennis," memories of her past life's agony stabbed Rebecca's heart.

The pain stole her breath.

In that life, her mother had just passed when Gerald brought his mistress and illegitimate daughter—barely six months Rebecca's junior—into their home.

Gerald adored only those two. Rebecca lived suffocated and humiliated within the Scott household.

To escape that prison, she'd played Charles and Dennis against each other.

Charles was the gifted tech prodigy from humble roots; Dennis, the silver-spooned wastrel prince of the High Society Circle.

Ultimately, she chose Dennis with his grander lineage.

Though a playboy, Dennis had—under Rebecca's relentless pushing and guidance—doubled the corporation's profits.

At Group's anniversary gala, Dennis publicly vowed to gift her half his shares.

Yet on the share transfer day, Dennis' favorite mistress had stormed into traffic and died instantly.

After her death, Dennis went mad, blaming Rebecca entirely. He framed her for murder and threw her behind bars.

Only on her deathbed did Dennis reveal Charles had offered his entire hard-earned fortune to buy her freedom.

Then she finally grasped the depth of Charles' love.

In that past life, unloved by her father, crushed by stepmother and stepsister, used as a pawn by Dennis while battling his mistresses—she'd never shed a tear.

Yet seeing Charles' note—"Eternal regret for failing to shield the bright moon"—she'd wept uncontrollably.

But Dennis had no intention of letting her go.

In the end, she met a tragic death in prison during an "accident," dying with eyes wide open.

Her only thought before dying was: if there were a next life, she would never miss Charles again.

Returning to the present, Rebecca suppressed the sorrow in her eyes and blurted out: "No! I was blind before, mistaking fish eyes for pearls! I won't choose him now. Charles, I choose you!"

Hearing this, the last glimmer in Charles's eyes extinguished. He pried her hand away coldly. "Miss Scott, stop playing games with me."

Panic surged through Rebecca as she tried to explain, but an enraged shout cut through:

"Rebecca!

What the fuck are you doing?!"

Rebecca whirled around.

Dennis.

The spoiled heir she'd devoted her past life to supporting. The man who'd gifted her company shares before becoming her murderer.

"Rebecca! Yesterday you fucking swore you'd marry no one but me! Today you're clinging to another man?" Dennis hurled insults like knives. "So I'm just another fish in your pond? When did you become such a promiscuous bitch?"

Rebecca stared impassively at his twisted, handsome face.

Then stepped forward and slapped him hard across the cheek.

Silence swallowed the air.

While Dennis raged, Rebecca glanced at her stinging palm and suddenly laughed.

The sharp pain confirmed it—she had truly been reborn.

Ignoring Dennis, she took the diamond ring from Charles and slid it onto her ring finger.

Meeting Charles's stunned gaze, she declared with burning intensity, each word crystal clear:

"Charles Gonzalez, I will marry you.

I only ask: will you marry me?

If yes, come propose at the Scott estate tomorrow."

Charles froze.

After a long pause, his Adam's apple bobbed as he started to answer, "Of course I—"

"Like hell you do!"

Dennis's mocking laugh cut him off.

Dennis pulled out his phone and played a video. Suddenly, explicit moans filled the air.

"Let me enlighten you, Charles. Last night this woman was in my bed. Nearly shook the bed apart."

"She's just secondhand goods I've used. You, the tech mogul, really wanna be the sucker who picks up someone's sloppy seconds?"

Rebecca's blood ran cold.

The video showed her and Dennis locked in passionate embrace!

But she knew—they'd never done such things.

This version of Dennis had no reason to ruin her reputation.

Unless... like her, he'd also been reborn.

No time to dwell. She had to clear this up now.

Charles was fiercely jealous and a clean freak. If he believed Dennis...

"Dennis, you think some deepfake video proves anything?"

"We weren't together last night! Where's your proof I was at that hotel?"

"Proof?" Dennis sneered venomously. "Miss Scott, that plum blossom birthmark on your left breast? I remember its color vividly—"

"Enough!" Rebecca trembled with rage.

Dennis had truly reborn.

Only that could explain his knowing such intimate details.

Yet in this life, she remained the untouched Scott heiress. Reputation meant everything in high society. If this spread...

Dennis smirked, icy gaze shifting to Charles. "See now, Charles? You'll attend our wedding, won't you?"

Rebecca felt certain Charles wouldn't believe it—until she saw his face.

Charles stood deathly pale, eyes bloodshot as he stared at the screen. His jaw clenched, fighting back agony.

Finally, lips quivering, he rasped, "Understood. I wish you both... a long and happy life together."

"My apologies. Business calls."

He wrenched the diamond ring off Rebecca's finger and walked away, silhouette utterly defeated.

"Charles!"

Rebecca tried to chase him, but Dennis dragged her into the Maybach, pinning her in the backseat.

"Give it up, Rebecca. This life, you'll marry me."

She struggled wildly. "Marry me? What about your precious mistress?"

"Relax. After my 'dearly departed' wife dies young, I'll marry her properly. She'll inherit everything."

Dennis leaned close, breath like demon's whisper against her ear.

"You're mine in life, Rebecca. Mine in death. Don't think clinging to Charles will save you. I won't allow it. Ever."

He shoved her out onto the street.

The Maybach's engine roared, shattering the evening's peace as it vanished.

Rebecca collapsed on the pavement, gasping for air. Forced herself to calm down.

It's fine.

She'd already died once. What was there left to fear?

She would rather die than marry, what could Dennis do?

Yet that very night, Rebecca was summoned to the study by her father, Jonathan.

Her stepmother Debra and half-sister Lisa were also present.

Debra maintained her gentle facade, speaking softly: "Rebecca dear, you're at the age to marry.

Dennis seems truly devoted to you, and his family background is excellent. Why not accept?

What do you think?"

Hearing this, Rebecca sneered inwardly.

Dennis did come from a prominent family, but in her past life when she wanted to marry him, this mother-daughter pair had obstructed her at every turn, terrified she'd climb the social ladder.

Now they were encouraging it?

Undoubtedly, Dennis had manipulated the situation.

Lifting her gaze, she caught the envy flashing in Debra's eyes and the venomous glare from Lisa beside her.

An idea sparked in her mind.

She lowered her lashes, feigning her usual docility: "I'll follow Father and Aunt Debra's arrangements."

Jonathan nodded, pleased by her compliance, and dismissed her.

Sure enough, while passing Debra's room that night, Rebecca heard Lisa's shrill, hysterical shriek:

"That motherless jinx Rebecca isn't worthy of Dennis!

I should be the one marrying him!

I'm Father's favorite Scott heiress!"

Outside the door, Rebecca dug her nails into her palms: Don't worry, dear sister. I'll gladly let you have him.

Back in her room, she received the surveillance footage from last night's Werewolf game with friends.

Relieved, she could now prove her innocence to Charles.

But when she opened Charles' chat window and sent the video, a red exclamation mark appeared.

Staring at that glaring symbol, Rebecca's hands trembled slightly.

Charles had blocked her?

!

Without hesitation, she threw on a coat and rushed to Charles' downtown penthouse.

At the entrance, the butler politely barred her way.

"Miss Scott, apologies. Mr. Gonzalez has instructed he'll see no visitors."

Her heart sank, voice trembling with tears: "Why won't he see me? Did Dennis threaten him?

Is it..."

The butler interrupted: "Mr. Gonzalez also said from now on, you two shall go your separate ways. All ties are severed!"

Rebecca's vision darkened, ears ringing.

But she quickly wiped her tears.

It didn't matter. Charles would attend their mutual friend's birthday party next week.

She still had a chance to see him.

A week later at the exclusive club.

Rebecca took a deep breath and pushed open the VIP lounge door.

She immediately spotted Charles surrounded by a crowd on the sofa.

He held a wine glass between his fingers, his sharp profile exuding icy detachment.

After sitting, Rebecca smiled at nearby friends while stealing glances at him.

But he never looked her way.

After several drinks, someone suggested Truth or Dare, heating up the mood.

When Charles's turn came, he chose Truth.

The questioner grinned mischievously: "Charles, what kind of person do you hate most?"

The room hushed slightly.

Charles tapped his glass with slender fingers, answering deliberately.

"I despise greedy people—taking year-end bonuses here while eyeing benefits elsewhere."

"There's a perfect word for them," he suddenly locked eyes with Rebecca, "Rebecca, care to guess?"

Rebecca turned ghostly pale, palms turning clammy.

The answer hung in the air—wanting both worlds.

Tension froze the room briefly.

Someone quickly defused it, resuming the game.

Charles excused himself coldly and walked out.

Rebecca swallowed her pain and chased after him.

"Charles! Charles..."

His tall figure marched down the endless corridor.

Eyes reddening, Rebecca sprinted in heels to explain herself.

Just as she rounded a corner, a hand clamped her wrist.

"Charles won't acknowledge you. Why chase him?"

"Playing desperate?"

Dennis again—always lurking nearby.

His iron grip trapped her as she snapped, "None of your business!"

A sly glint flashed in Dennis's eyes.

Rebecca's heart lurched.

He snapped his fingers—two burly guards pinned her arms.

"Let go!"

"Dennis, what are you doing?!"

She fought wildly but got her jaw forced open.

"Be good. Don't waste my special treat."

Dennis crooned softly while shoving a red pill down her throat.

"Mmph—!"

Rebecca gagged reflexively.

Dennis gripped her neck, pouring hard liquor down.

"Cough..." The burn brought tears as liquor seared her throat.

He watched approvingly—her eyes glazing, cheeks flushing, breath scorching.

Waving guards away, he manacled her slender waist.

"Come. Let's sober you up."

Dennis sneered, half-dragging her toward the lounge.

The drug's surge turned her weak struggles into coy resistance.

Through her haze, a tall figure materialized down the hall.

Charles.

Frost etched his face, gaze riveted on Dennis's grip around Rebecca's waist.

"Rebecca!"

His voice strained as he strode forward.

Rebecca struggled to whimper, "Charles, help—"

"Apologies for the scene, Mr. Gonzalez."

Her plea was cut short. Charles's arm tightened around her waist as his mocking voice drifted above her head. "This girl can't hold her liquor but keeps drinking. Drunk out of her mind, she clung to me saying she missed our time in the presidential suite, begging to relive it." Dennis deliberately emphasized "presidential suite."

"No... not..." Rebecca attempted to deny, only managing choked gasps.

"Hush now, baby. Mr. Gonzalez is watching." Dennis tenderly wiped her tears before meeting Charles's fiery eyes, his smile freezing. "Mr. Gonzalez, are you really interfering in lovers' games? Quite presumptuous." He enunciated every syllable, "Rebecca will be my wife. Would I harm her? Know your place."

Charles's outstretched hand froze mid-air. Time seemed suspended. Finally, his clenched fingers slowly curled inward, dropping limply to his side. The last flicker of hope in Rebecca's eyes extinguished. She ceased struggling, letting Dennis drag her into the private lounge like a rag doll.

As soon as the door closed, Dennis slammed her onto the leather sofa. Drug-induced weakness left her powerless. He loomed over her with darkened eyes, undoing his buttons. One by one.

Before consciousness completely faded, Rebecca saw Dennis leering down at her.

How much time had passed?

Rebecca struggled to open her eyes. The crystal chandelier on the private room ceiling swam into view.

Awareness trickled back.

Excruciating pain tore through her body, exposed skin mottled with bruises.

The air reeked of stale decay.

"Ugh..."

Rebecca retched violently, only spitting up bile.

Trembling, she straightened her torn dress, staggered upright, and stumbled from the exclusive club.

Dim parking lot lights glowed in the dead of night.

As her knees buckled, she spotted a familiar silhouette.

Charles.

He hadn't left.

Leaning against his black Bentley, cigarette ash dangling from his fingers—he'd waited ages.

Seeing her sway, Charles rushed forward.

"Rebecca..."

That same hand reached toward her.

Instantly, she remembered those fingers abandoning her, shoving her toward Dennis.

She recoiled like from scalding iron.

Spine rigid with effort, she turned away.

Leaving him frozen in the night wind.

Finally, she found her car.

"Thud!"

The door slammed shut. Rebecca collapsed over the steering wheel.

"Woo..." Shoulders shaking, she muffled sobs into the leather.

Four AM. Rebecca returned home with swollen eyes.

She scrubbed herself raw in the shower.

The Dennis family held power. Gerald had always wanted this marriage alliance.

Rebecca knew reporting it would make her father bury the case and deliver her faster.

She gnawed her lip bloody, swallowing cries.

Fine. Like a dog bite.

After washing off the stench, she curled up in bed.

Fingertips traced her mother's photo on the nightstand.

At ten, she'd watched that homewrecker provoke Mom into fatal labor.

Hatred took root. But powerless, she'd had to call the thief "Mother."

Enduring humiliation, begging permission yearly to visit Mom's grave.

That day taught her:

Without power or allies, you're trampled dust. Not even life's guaranteed.

She brushed the photo's gentle smile. "Mom, last life I tried pleasing both sides for freedom. Was I wrong?"

Moonlight silvered the room as Rebecca clutched the frame, sinking into sleep.

Mom's dream-voice soothed: "Sweetheart, you weren't wrong. Those who love you understand."

The vision shattered—back on that private room sofa, memories flaying her alive...

Morning came with tear-soaked sheets.

Freshly washed, a knock came. "Miss Rebecca, Dennis is here proposing. Hurry to the front hall."

Her heart sank—Dennis had moved so quickly.

Rebecca forced herself through the lingering pain and hurried to the front hall, where Dennis was chatting warmly with her father.

"I fell for Rebecca at first sight, Mr. Scott," Dennis said, uncharacteristically humble. "I sincerely wish to marry her."

Gerald smiled approvingly. "Since you’re so earnest, we’ll consult a horoscope specialist tomorrow about your Birth Horoscopes…"

The memory of last night’s debauchery flooded back, bile rising in Rebecca’s throat.

Marry him?

That meant surrendering herself to that monster again, reliving her brutal past death.

She couldn’t just wait for doom!

Digging her nails into her palms, she steadied her voice and interrupted.

"Dad, I’ll agree to marry into the Carter family—but on one condition."

Gerald’s smile vanished. "Rebecca, mind your manners."

Dennis’s grin didn’t waver. "Name it. Anything within my power."

Rebecca drew a sharp breath, gambling everything. "I demand two billion in Bride Price—and the prime downtown land the Carter group is developing. It must be transferred to me."

Gerald gasped audibly. Rebecca straightened her spine, hiding every trace of vulnerability.

Please let this outrageous demand force Dennis to back down, she prayed.

But Dennis only chuckled, amused. "Done. Only you, Rebecca, could make extortion look so charming."

Something was wrong.

As Rebecca frowned, Dennis pivoted toward the hall’s entrance.

"I wonder what Mr. Gonzalez thinks of this?"

Rebecca’s mind went blank. She turned stiffly.

There, looming in the doorway, stood a tall, impeccably dressed man.

It was Charles.

Seeing his grim expression, Rebecca froze.

Over there, Gerald had already risen to greet him. "Mr. Gonzalez, what brings you here today?"

Charles glanced at Rebecca, replying politely, "Mr. Scott, I've come to propose marriage."

Rebecca's heart pounded wildly.

The next moment, his calm, unruffled voice cut through the air. "I wish to marry your second daughter, Lisa."

Hope shattered completely. Rebecca struggled to breathe.

Her mind reeled.

In her past life, Charles had remained unmarried because of her.

Every time they met, he’d always find a way to speak to her, his ears flushing crimson.

He’d even spent a fortune investigating the truth for her, ready to trade his entire fortune for her freedom.

But now, everything had changed.

He said he wanted to marry—and marry Lisa, that illegitimate half-sister she’d resented for years!

Rebecca’s face paled. She opened her mouth to protest, but Lisa suddenly burst forward.

"Dad!

I won’t marry him!" Her voice cracked with hysteria. "Dad!

I love Dennis! I don’t want to marry anyone else. Rebecca and Charles seem perfect together—why not just swap brides?

Please?"

For the first time, Rebecca felt her foolish sister had done something right.

She looked hopefully at Charles.

But Charles didn’t even glance her way. "Mr. Scott, I cannot marry Miss Rebecca. She and Dennis are deeply in love. I won’t come between them."

Rebecca’s chest tightened. "Dennis and I have nothing to do with each other!" she protested loudly.

"Nothing?" Dennis rose, his voice feigning hurt. "Rebecca, we were so close. How can you deny it now?"

"You—" Rebecca choked on her fury.

Dennis turned his back to the others, smirking. "The paparazzi already caught us, Rebecca. Just admit it openly. No need to be shy."

At his words, everyone pulled out their phones to check the day’s trending topic.

.

Rebecca’s heart plummeted.

Sure enough, Gerald thrust his phone at her, his face livid. "Rebecca!

Look at this!"

Rebecca’s mind went blank.

The headline screamed: Scott Heiress and Carter Heir’s Two-Hour Rendezvous in Exclusive Club Suite

Below it sprawled a nine-photo grid.

They were sneaked shots through the suite door—both disheveled, tangled together!

Under the drug’s influence, her cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed as she yielded to the man, appearing utterly lost in pleasure.

Rebecca’s face turned deathly white. She whirled to glare at Dennis.

He wore an expression of detached innocence. Instantly, she knew—this was all Dennis’s doing!

"He forced me—" The words tumbled out, trembling.

"Enough!" Gerald roared, cutting her off.

His face darkened like storm clouds. "The Scott family won’t tolerate a heartless liar! Rebecca, you will take responsibility for Dennis. Don’t you dare disgrace him!"

The verdict was final. Despair washed over Rebecca.

With the photos flooding the internet, and Gerald valuing family honor above all, she had no choice but to marry.

Lifting her eyes, she met a pair of icy ones.

Mixed with coldness, disgust, disappointment...

Charles's gaze was like a blunt knife, slowly carving her heart until it was riddled with holes.

Beside them, Lisa's heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

She knew her chance to marry Dennis had vanished.

Lifelessly, she asked Charles, "Mr. Gonzalez, do you truly wish to marry me?"

Charles stared at Rebecca's face, his thin lips parting as he spoke in a cruel tone.

"Miss Lisa, my devotion to you is absolute. I swear you'll be my only love—no wandering eyes, ever."

Rebecca's eyes instantly reddened.

Through her daze, she heard Lisa's shy reply: "Alright then... I'll marry you."

Following their parents' arrangement, both Rebecca and Lisa became engaged on the same day.

Their weddings were set for mid-September—the fifteenth.

After the guests departed,

Rebecca slipped out the back door, blocking Charles's stretch limo: "Why did you do this?

Did you deliberately choose to marry my sister?"

The car window slid down, revealing Charles's cold voice: "Yes. I aimed to destroy any hope you had of marrying me. Consider this your closure."

The words hung in the air as the car sped away, leaving dust in its wake.

The scorching sun baked Rebecca's heart, suffocating her.

Her legs gave way, collapsing onto the asphalt as tears flooded down.

From that day on, Rebecca remained secluded indoors.

Reborn into this life, she'd changed nothing—only watched helplessly as fate slid toward a worse outcome.

Tormented day and night, she wasted away until her clothes hung loose.

Until the day arrived: an invitation to a charity gala.

She attended, if only for distraction.

Upon reaching the hotel hosting the event,

Rebecca realized—this was where she and Charles had first met.

Back then, falsely accused by Lisa, Rebecca fled alone in distress and stumbled into the gala.

A clumsy waiter bumped into her just as she was about to crash into the champagne tower—until an embrace carrying the scent of cedarwood steadied her.

That was how they met.

Her memories shattered when a couple approached arm-in-arm.

The man wore an immaculate suit; the woman’s silk embroidered dress clung to her delicate curves.

Rebecca froze upon recognizing them.

Charles and Lisa.

Spotting Rebecca, Lisa flashed a triumphant smirk before grabbing Charles’ lapel and kissing him.

Camera flashes erupted, flooding the venue with blinding light.

Rebecca’s heart clenched painfully.

She watched Charles expressionlessly ease Lisa away.

Yet Rebecca remained rooted, unable to move.

She watched them stroll closer.

Watched Charles unbutton his tailored suit jacket and drape it over Lisa’s shoulders.

The aloof CEO and the radiant Scott heiress—a picture-perfect match.

But Charles’ gaze turned icy the moment he noticed Rebecca, offering only a curt nod. "Miss Rebecca."

In their past life, he’d always called her "Rebecca."

Now, only this distant "Miss Rebecca" remained.

Her face paled, eyes brimming with anguish.

The man who’d once adored her—why had everything changed?

Lisa glanced at a waiter’s tray and murmured softly, "Charles, I feel unwell. Champagne’s too cold. I’d like warm ginger tea."

Charles nodded and left alone.

Two minutes later, he returned with a steaming porcelain cup for Lisa.

His tender gaze as he watched her sip pierced Rebecca’s heart like needles.

"Drink slowly."

Hearing his low, affectionate tone, Rebecca’s eyes burned.

In their past life, ginger tea with brown sugar would always appear when she suffered during her period.

She’d known it came from Charles.

Now, that exclusive tenderness belonged to another.

Rebecca fled in despair.

...

Back home, Rebecca numbly endured bridal shop attendants fitting her wedding gown.

They lavished praise on her beauty, but she remained silent.

Marrying Dennis meant certain death.

After a sleepless night, she resolved:

Run!

She had to run!

Next morning,

Rebecca took valuable jewelry to pawn for escape money.

"Sorry, Miss Rebecca. We can’t accept this."

"Please leave, Miss Rebecca."

Rejected by every top jewelry buyer,

the last manager finally confessed under pressure: "Mr. Lee’s orders. Anyone who takes your items loses their business."

Of course. Him.

Fury surged through Rebecca.

Her father would freeze all her accounts once she fled.

Dennis knew cash was vital—he’d sealed her escape route.

Just as despair set in,

her phone buzzed with an auction advertisement.

Rebecca perked up immediately.

She could still consign anonymously, bypassing Dennis' ban.

Rebecca contacted the auction house at once, anonymously consigning her most valuable emerald brooch.

The auction venue brimmed with perfumed elegance, gathering socialites.

Rebecca sat low in a shadowed corner, wearing a hat covering half her face.

Nervous yet unable to look away, her gaze fixed on Charles and Lisa seated upfront.

As the auction peaked, a pair of antique couple's watches debuted.

Lisa's eyes sparkled as she nudged Charles' arm, cooing: "Darling, these watches suit us perfectly!

Let's bid for them as love tokens?

Please?"

Charles scanned the watches and raised his hand: "Unlimited bidding."

The room erupted.

In her corner, Rebecca dug her nails into her palm, swallowing bitter anguish.

Ultimately, the antique watches sold for a staggering sum.

Amidst all eyes, Charles removed his Patek Philippe wristwatch, replacing it with the new antique timepiece.

Rebecca clenched her jaw against tears.

That Patek Philippe was her birthday gift to Charles.

He'd once blushed, promising to treasure it forever.

Yet now, he'd discarded it so casually.

Before she regained composure, the couple ahead had already risen arm-in-arm to depart.

Lisa spotted Rebecca in the corner.

She curved her red lips, "Charles, that old watch is an eyesore. Just toss it—don't need to keep gifts from certain people taking up space.

Right, sister?"

Rebecca bit her lower lip till blood spread in her mouth.

Charles glanced over, locking eyes with her.

Meeting her red-rimmed gaze, he flinched and looked away instantly.

He smiled at Lisa, "Let's go."

Lisa shot Rebecca a contemptuous look before leaving arm-in-arm with Charles.

After the auction, Rebecca stumbled backstage to settle payment but was told, "Sorry, your funds are frozen."

Her last hope shattered.

As she wandered out dazed, a Maybach glided silently before her.

The window lowered, revealing Dennis's butler's stern face: "Miss Scott, Mr. Lee reminds you the wedding approaches. Quit these improper notions and await your marriage at home."

The luxury car sped off, leaving Rebecca pale-faced in the icy wind.

That night, nightmares consumed Rebecca.

One moment she dreamed of Charles clasping a necklace around her neck, calling her "Rebecca" tenderly.

The next, she saw Charles carefully supporting pregnant Lisa, who turned to glare with disgust: "A loose woman like you deserves my attention?"

Gasping for breath, she woke up.

Drenched in sweat, Rebecca stared blankly at the silk canopy overhead, utterly drained.

Perhaps it was time to let go.

Days passed with Rebecca secluded indoors.

A week before the wedding, a friend gifted her motorcycle race tickets.

"Consider it pre-wedding relaxation," the friend urged.

Not wishing to refuse, Rebecca attended.

At the venue, she spotted Charles and Lisa.

Both wore riding gear, astride motorcycles—handsome man, beautiful woman, perfectly matched.

Rebecca's heart clenched.

Charles detested such sports; his presence meant indulging Lisa's hobby.

Spotting her friend waving from the stands, Rebecca approached.

Near the track, sudden shrieks erupted:

"Oh god! Lisa's bike is out of control!"

Rebecca whirled around.

A motorcycle careened wildly, Lisa gripping the handlebars in panic.

Their eyes met.

Lisa abruptly twisted the handlebars.

The machine lunged like a crazed stallion, roaring toward Rebecca.

Too fast to dodge.

In a split second, Charles charged sideways.

Two choices: save Rebecca or save Lisa.

Time seemed to slow.

Breath trapped, Rebecca watched Charles leap through the air—

—cradling Lisa as they tumbled clear, abandoning her to the crushing wheels.

The heavy bike slammed Rebecca down, pinning her leg beneath it.

Crack! The bone-snapping sound echoed, horrifying.

Excruciating pain surged. A guttural moan escaped her throat.

Before blacking out, she saw Charles holding Lisa securely in his arms,

his gaze never touching her.

When Rebecca opened her eyes again, the first faces she saw were her stepmother's and Lisa's hypocritical expressions.

"You're finally awake. You were unconscious for two days straight—we were so worried."

Rebecca realized both her legs were encased in plaster casts, suspended high above the bed.

She tried to move them but felt nothing.

Panic seized her. She grabbed Lisa's wrist, her throat tight. "What happened to my legs?"

Lisa stammered, unable to answer, tears streaming down her face.

Dread coiled tighter in Rebecca's chest. She screamed, "Tell me! What's wrong with my legs?"

Only muffled sobs filled the hospital room.

After a moment, her stepmother spoke with feigned sorrow—

"Severe comminuted fractures, nerve damage too. The doctors say... you might never walk again."

Her mind exploded.

Rebecca froze, all sound vanishing.

Tremors wracked her body. Her vision blurred as she whispered, "No... this can't be real..."

Suddenly, the memory crashed over her.

Her eyes blazed crimson. She dug her nails into Lisa's wrist, voice raw. "Did you do this on purpose?"

A flicker of guilt crossed Lisa's eyes before she fell silent.

Rage erupted. Rebecca shattered. "I saw it! You twisted the handlebar—that motorcycle came straight at me! You meant to do it!"

Lisa avoided her gaze, voice sickeningly sweet. "I'm sorry, sis. I know you're upset about your legs, but how can you accuse me without proof?"

Watching Lisa's stone-faced denial, Rebecca choked on her fury.

Past and present collided. This woman never changed—always playing the victim after causing harm.

Fresh hatred merged with old wounds. Rebecca detonated. "You did this! You're still pretending—"

A cool, detached voice cut through.

"Miss Scott, it was an accident. No one wanted this."

Rebecca froze.

She turned toward the door. Charles stood there, flowers in hand, expression unreadable.

Abruptly, her fury drained, leaving numbness.

"Get out. All of you."

Silence hung thick. After exchanged glances, they filed out quietly.

Before leaving, Charles placed the bouquet gently on the nightstand.

His throat worked, but no words came. He shut the door behind him.

Alone, Rebecca snatched the flowers and hurled them against the wall.

Petals scattered like broken promises.

Rebecca's injury delayed her wedding to Dennis.

The Scotts offered to cancel the engagement, but Dennis declared publicly: "Even if Rebecca never walks again, I'll marry her."

Overnight, the entire High Society Circle envied Rebecca's "fortunate destiny"—

A cripple still winning the Carter heir's true love.

But no one saw Dennis's dual faces. Alone with Rebecca, arrogance dripped from his every word.

"Since you're a cripple now, behave. Once you enter the Lee family, be a quiet ornament. Don't step outside without my permission."

Rebecca met his gaze with icy silence.

Her lifeless demeanor bored him. "Pathetic," Dennis scoffed before turning on his heel.

During this time, Charles Gonzalez came to visit once, only to be turned away at the hospital room door.

The man lingered outside for a long while before finally leaving.

As for the apology note and check he had someone deliver, Rebecca Scott tore them to shreds and threw them in the trash.

She wanted nothing more to do with Charles Gonzalez.

Yet news of him still reached her ears on the wind.

She heard his tech company had gone public on the Hong Kong stock exchange, and Gerald Scott was so thrilled he moved up Charles and Lisa Scott's wedding to this month.

She also heard Charles frequently visited Lisa at the Scott estate—he cooked while she mixed drinks, their sweet affection obvious.

Today, Charles came to the Scott villa again.

Murmured conversation drifted from the study.

"Lisa, that motorcycle served you well for three years. How could its brakes suddenly fail?"

"You suspect me?"

"I just want a reasonable explanation."

Silence hung thick in the air.

Suddenly, Lisa snorted. "Fine. I tampered with it.

I couldn't stand how she gazed at you like some lovesick fool!

She's engaged to Dennis Lee—why pretend to be so devoted?

She deserved it!"

On the nearby terrace, Rebecca's fingers clenched abruptly on her wheelchair.

The late autumn wind carried a chill that seeped into her bones.

Charles had always been principled, with zero tolerance for flaws. He'd abandoned her the moment she showed any imperfection.

He should treat Lisa the same way. At the very least, he should reprimand her.

But his response was only dead silence.

Inside the study, the atmosphere froze.

Lisa, realizing her mistake, softened her voice instantly. "Charles, I was just jealous and foolish. It clouded my judgment."

"I know I was wrong. I'll find the best medical team for Rebecca's leg."

Charles was silent for several seconds before replying flatly, "Just this once."

Those four light words slammed into Rebecca's heart like a sledgehammer.

Tearing it to shreds.

Seizing the offered escape, Lisa hurriedly excused herself to fetch newly arrived coffee beans.

Charles sighed softly and turned to leave the study, only to meet a pair of icy eyes.

He paused mid-step, discomfort flickering across his face. "You... heard everything?"

Rebecca said nothing, just watched him quietly, as if observing a stranger.

That gaze stung Charles.

A flash of guilt crossed his eyes before he pulled a Patek Philippe watch from his inner suit pocket and held it out.

"My wedding is soon. This should be returned to its rightful owner."

Rebecca stared at the watch, unmoving.

She waited so long Charles's outstretched arm began to stiffen before she slowly raised her own.

"From this moment on," her voice rasped, eyes locked on his, "Rebecca Scott and Charles Gonzalez are finished."

Her arm snapped forward, slamming the watch onto the ground.

Bang!

The dull thud struck Charles's heart like a physical blow, rattling his chest.

After a long silence, he finally whispered, "I'm sorry."

The electric wheelchair hummed as Rebecca retreated to her room.

She sat motionless from afternoon until sunset, when the warm glow of the night light flickered on.

It cast fractured shadows across her pale face.

With her legs paralyzed and nowhere to go, any future with Charles was impossible now.

Marrying Dennis had become inevitable.

Yet compared to a cowardly death by torture, she'd choose a blaze of glory.

When Rebecca lifted her gaze again, only steely resolve remained in her eyes.

Time slipped by swiftly.

On the day of Charles and Lisa's grand wedding, the Scott estate glittered with festive lanterns and ribbons.

In stark contrast, Rebecca's second-floor room felt like an icebox.

Hushed servants' whispers drifted through the air.

"Poor Miss Rebecca. Just as she's about to marry into the Lee family, her legs..."

"Mr. Lee doesn't mind now, but what about later?"

"Miss Lisa is truly blessed. Mr. Charles designed that diamond ring himself and vowed publicly never to betray her. A perfect gentleman."

"Absolutely. Rich, handsome, and utterly devoted. How enviable."

Deafening celebratory fireworks erupted outside.

"Mr. Charles is here!"

"The groom's arrived!"

Servants grew restless.

"Quick! Let's get the red envelopes!"

"But Miss Rebecca's alone in her room..."

"She's in a wheelchair—where could she go? What could happen? Those envelopes won't wait!"

Footsteps rapidly faded away.

Inside the bedroom, Rebecca sat rigidly upright in her wheelchair.

Across the white wall, her lipstick-scrawled suicide note blazed like blood—every accusatory word glaring.

She picked up a lighter and without hesitation ignited the silk canopy.

Dancing flames reflected in her clear eyes as a single tear traced her cheek.

Fire greedily licked the bedposts, devouring the mattress within seconds before lunging toward the wheelchair...

Outside the Scott mansion,

Charles stood by the stretch Lincoln limousine in his tailored suit.

Bride Lisa approached, veiled in luxury, flanked by bridesmaids.

Charles seemed distant until the officiant nudged him.

A gust lifted Lisa's veil, revealing her meticulously crafted beauty.

Yet in that instant, Rebecca's pale, defiant face flashed through his mind.

He forced the darkness from his eyes.

There was a time he'd dreamed daily of making Rebecca his bride.

But when jealous rage made him declare he'd marry Lisa, everything became irreversible.

He scooped Lisa into the wedding car.

The procession passed the banquet hall where he'd first met Rebecca, crossed the river bridge where they'd watched fireworks together...

Memories sliced through him like knives, flaying his heart piece by piece.

Pressing a hand to his aching chest, he convinced himself: Sacrificing his happiness for her sake was right.

Rebecca deserved the best.

He'd known she was maneuvering between him and Dennis, but understood her plight.

With her mother gone and stepmother tormenting her, survival was a daily struggle. She was just grasping for a lifeline.

So he willingly became her stepping stone, helping her climb into the Lee family's golden tower.

Now that he'd married Lisa, nothing could stop her from marrying Dennis. She could finally become Mrs. Lee without worries.

Suddenly, panicked shouts erupted from the roadside: "Fire!

The Scott mansion's on fire!"

Charles whipped around to see thick smoke billowing from the Scott estate, flames shooting into the sky.

His heart stopped.

Scraps of conversation floated through the scorching air:

"They say it's the eldest daughter's room!

With her bad leg, she probably..."

"God, that inferno—not even a miracle could save her. Just ashes left now!"

Ding——

Charles's mind went blank.

How could Rebecca's room catch fire?

!

"Stop the car!

Stop!"

Blind terror seized him, everything else forgotten.

Beside the wedding limousine, Lisa's shrill scream pierced through the windows: "Charles!

Don't go!

Today's our wedding!"

Charles ignored her, shoved the driver out, and wrenched the steering wheel. The sports car spun around like an arrow, tearing away from the procession.

The engine's roar drowned Lisa's pleas.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"My God!

Charles abandoned his bride to save her sister?"

"Turning back now? Bad luck for the marriage!"

"Bride's home burns, groom turns back—what an omen!"

The cruel whispers stabbed at Lisa's ears.

She crushed the golden bouquet in her fist, teeth grinding.

After a long pause, she forced a stiff smile for the media outside: "Charles cares deeply for the Scott family—such loyalty.

Let the procession continue. I trust he'll handle this quickly and join us."

The motorcade rolled toward the chapel in awkward silence.

...

Chaos engulfed the Scott estate.

Amid shrieking sirens, a sports car screeched to a halt at the gates.

Charles burst out, ignoring stunned onlookers, and sprinted like a madman toward the second floor—devoured by fire.

He wished for wings.

Flames now licked the roof, thick smoke churning.

Servants wailed: "The eldest daughter's still inside!"

Rebecca hadn't escaped.