Chapter 1
Five years ago, Catherine Martin got into a car accident to save her family and became comatose.
Five years later, when she finally woke up, everything had changed.
Her parents and brother now doted on an adopted daughter, Donna Martin.
Even Patrick Davis, her childhood sweetheart and fiancé, treated Donna with special favor.
They claimed they'd adopted Donna out of longing for Catherine.
But Catherine couldn't bear it. She insisted they send Donna away.
Who could've predicted the car crash during Donna's transfer? Her parents and Donna died instantly.
Since then, Edward Martin and Patrick turned their love for her into hatred.
They blamed her: had she not forced Donna's removal, three lives wouldn't have been lost.
They tormented her and punished her, while she accepted it as atonement.
Three years later, broken beyond repair, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctor said she wouldn't live more than a month.
Yet when she stumbled past a hotel, she saw her "deceased" parents, brother, and Patrick celebrating Donna's birthday.
Donna wore a crown, grinning like a true princess.
Standing outside the door, Catherine felt as if struck by lightning.
Before she could recover from the shock, Patrick asked Edward: "Catherine's suffered enough. When do we end this charade?"
Edward chuckled: "Tell her the truth on her birthday next month. Let her stew in misery, so she'll never dare drive Donna away again."
Ashley Martin sighed: "That girl's too stubborn. Without hardship, she'd never accept Donna."
Andrew Martin nodded: "After our fake deaths, she won't oppose Donna anymore."
In that moment, Catherine's blood ran cold.
So everything had been a lie!
They'd never died. They'd faked their deaths to force her acceptance of Donna, making her endure years of agony!
How cruel.
Her closest family and Patrick, who had promised to love her forever, had deceived her for an adopted daughter!
But they didn't know.
She wouldn't live to see next month.
She'd never receive their "mercy"...
Inside, joyous laughter continued, but Catherine fled the hotel, haunted by three years of nightmares.
Every single day, she'd drowned in guilt.
She'd dreamed endlessly of the burning car—her parents screaming in flames, and Donna's eyes filled with terror.
So she'd endured all punishments from Patrick and Edward.
She let Patrick choke her nightly, hissing "You killed them";
She knelt three days in the funeral chapel at Edward's command;
She copied "I was wrong" until her fingers bled...
But it turned out none of this was real!
She staggered home, vomiting blood at the doorstep.
Crouched over the toilet, blood and tears streaming, she gulped painkillers with trembling hands.
Just as she flushed away the bloodstains, the door slammed open.
"Playing dead after ignoring me?" Edward stood coldly in the doorway. "Trying to skip today's atonement?"
Patrick frowned at her. "What are you kneeling on the floor for?"
Catherine didn't answer, just looked up numbly. "How shall I atone today?"
The two men exchanged glances. Patrick said flatly, "Go to buy some cheese cakes for Dianna from the north side."
Catherine's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Dianna... Dianna...
That woman Patrick and Edward brought home one month after Donna's "death." She looked almost identical to Donna.
She'd foolishly believed they'd found a substitute to ease their grief.
Only now did she understand:
Substitute?
That was Donna herself, who had never died at all!
They couldn't even bother changing the name properly, from "Donna" into "Dianna"!
"Fine. I'll go."
Catherine was too exhausted to argue. Anyway, she was dying soon—nothing mattered anymore.
The north-side bakery had a two-hour queue. She stood weakly under scorching sun, vision blurring.
The first time she bought it back, Dianna said disdainfully "it's cold."
Second: "too sweet."
Third: "ugly shape."
...
Seventh try: "perfect" cakes obtained. Then a bicycle slammed into her on her way back.
The rider fled. She dragged bleeding legs home, limping.
"Your cheese cakes."
Catherine handed the bag to Dianna.
"Ah—!"
Dianna opened the box and screamed in fright. "Blood! There's blood!"
Patrick and Edward rushed in. Dianna immediately buried herself in their arms, sobbing: "Patrick! Edward! If she didn't want to buy them, she could've refused! Why give me blood-stained cakes?"
When Patrick and Edward saw the blood-stained cake, their expressions darkened instantly.
"On purpose?" Patrick's voice turned icy.
Catherine leaned weakly against the wall, legs throbbing. "No... on the way back... bicycle hit me... blood got on accidentally."
"Accident?" Edward snorted, striding forward. "Do you take me for a fool? If you were in an accident, how could you still be standing here unscathed?"
He yanked her wrist. "Since you love lying, I'll make this one true! Guards! Drag her to the lawn!"
Two bodyguards hauled Catherine out like livestock. Her knees tore bloody on the cobblestone path. Nobody cared.
On the lawn, Patrick and Edward already sat in the black Maybach. The engine roared like the whisper of death.
"Patrick... Edward..." She struggled upright. "I truly—"
The car accelerated before she finished.
Thud—
Agony exploded through her limbs. Catherine flew like a rag doll, crashing meters away on the grass.
Blood gushed out of her mouth, her vision blurred, and she lost consciousness completely.
Much later, her consciousness gradually recovered. The smell of disinfectant stung her nostrils.
She struggled to open her eyes, and the blurry light on the ceiling made her dizzy.
"How could there be so much blood?"
Patrick's hushed voice carried from outside the ward. "We barely tapped her with the car!"
"Exactly," Edward's tone held disbelief. "We measured the impact perfectly."
The doctor's weary sigh followed. "The patient was already in terminal stages with cancer widely metastasized.
Such impact will only deteriorate the situation."
Chapter 2
Catherine's heart clenched violently.
She hadn't wanted them to know about her cancer, yet now the doctor's words had reached their ears.
Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the bedsheet, knuckles whitening, as a pathetic sliver of hope flickered within her.
How would they react now that they knew?
Would they feel remorse?
Would they feel sorry for her?
Would they hold her gently like before, whispering "Don't be scared, Catherine"?
"Ring—"
The jarring telephone cut off the doctor's explanation.
Patrick answered, hearing Dianna's tear-choked voice: "Patrick... I fell... it hurts so much..."
Patrick's expression darkened instantly: "I'm coming right now!"
Without another thought, they tossed a hurried command at the doctor: "Arrange a nurse to take care of her. Use the best medicine—make up for all the blood she lost."
Then they left without looking back.
The doctor opened his mouth to call after them, but they'd already vanished down the corridor.
He sighed, walked into the ward, and said to Catherine: "Ms. Martin, your condition is terminal cancer. You must be hospitalized for cheMomapy as soon as possible…"
He paused before adding, "Mr. Davis and Mr. Martin didn't seem to grasp the severity earlier. Would you... like to tell them yourself? So they can be with you during this final time?"
Catherine smiled bitterly, silent tears tracing her cheeks. "No need."
"They... wouldn't care."
The doctor hesitated but ultimately shook his head and departed.
...
The following days brought Catherine agony beyond endurance.
Painkillers grew increasingly ineffective. She curled up on the hospital bed, sweat soaking her gown.
But just then, calls came from Patrick and Edward.
"How long are you going to stay in the hospital for a minor injury?"
The voice on the line was glacial. "You haven't finished atoning for your sins. Return immediately."
Catherine clutched her phone, fingers trembling.
She knew—they merely sought to prolong her torment.
Fine.
Let them.
She also wanted to see what expressions they'd wear when her ravaged body turned cold and lifeless.
She discharged herself against medical advice, collected strong painkillers, and returned to that so-called "home" alone.
But upon entering the villa, a maid blocked her path.
"Ms. Martin, Mr. Davis and Mr. Martin instructed that after days in the hospital, you're contaminated. To protect Ms. Dianna, you must be disinfected first."
Before she could react, maids seized her and flung her into the disinfectant pool!
"Ah—!"
Disinfectant seared her unhealed wounds. Catherine convulsed, blood seeping from reopened injuries and turning the entire pool red.
Maids screamed in panic, scrambling to summon Patrick and Edward.
When Patrick rushed over, Catherine was already semi-conscious with pain—face deathly pale, lips bitten bloody, drenched in cold sweat.
His pupils contracted sharply; instinctively, he reached to pull her out.
"Patrick!"
Edward yanked his wrist back, voice low and urgent. "Have you forgotten our plan?"
Patrick's hand froze mid-air.
"I know you like her," Edward stared at him, his voice chillingly calm, "but there's only one month left."
"She have to learn the lesson thoroughly, and she will dare not hurt Donna again."
He paused with a soft tone: "I'm her biological brother, and my heart aches too... but for Donna's sake, we must be ruthless."
Patrick's fingers trembled slightly before finally withdrawing.
Catherine lay soaked in bloody water, her blurred vision capturing only their retreating backs.
How ridiculous.
She was dying, yet they still worried whether she'd harm Donna.
?
...
She'd been soaked all night until dawn when maids fished her out and dumped her into the room like trash.
Catherine curled on the bed, trembling with every breath from the pain.
When she'd recovered slightly, she forced herself up to pack her belongings.
Since death neared, she wanted to leave cleanly—leaving no trace of herself in this house.
That way, next life wouldn't bring them together again.
?
...
She pulled out years of treasured photos, diaries, gifts Patrick had given her...
One by one, she threw them into the ritual brazier.
Flames devoured past memories and what little life remained.
Just then, the door burst open.
Chapter 3
"What are you burning?"
Dianna stood at the doorway, her gaze icy.
Catherine didn't look up, just calmly tossed photos into the ritual brazier: "None of your business."
Dianna clicked closer in high heels, looking down at her: "What's that attitude?
You think you're still the high-and-mighty Martin heiress?"
Flames danced across Dianna's flawless makeup, twisting her expression: "Catherine, listen well - you're just a stray dog anyone can kick now!"
She suddenly kicked the ritual brazier over.
"Crash—"
Burning papers scattered, sparks igniting old curtains piled nearby. Flames instantly leaped up!
"You!"
Catherine lunged toward the fire, but Dianna shoved her back.
Flames spread rapidly, smoke filling the room.
"Fire!
Put it out!"
Maids' panicked shouts rose from downstairs, but the blaze raged uncontrolled.
Heat blasted Catherine's face, smoke choking her coughs as vision blurred.
She struggled toward the exit when Dianna seized her wrist: "Running?"
"Let go..." Catherine gasped weakly, "We'll die..."
Dianna smiled sweetly: "Then let's die together."
The door burst open.
Patrick and Edward rushed inTheir faces were filled with panic, but they breathed a sigh of relief the moment they saw Dianna.
"What happened?"
Edward shielded Dianna, demanding, "How'd the fire start?"
Dianna's eyes reddened instantly, pointing at Catherine: "She went mad. She tried to burn Donna's things! I stopped her but she torched the whole room!"
"I didn't..." Catherine shook her head weakly, smoke strangling her words.
Patrick's eyes frosted over. He yanked Catherine up: "Catherine, I thought you'd changed. Three years later, you're still so unrepentant!"
Catherine's mouth moved soundlessly.
Her vision dimmed. Edward's icy words pierced her fading consciousness:
"Lock her in the oven. Let her reflect."
Bodyguards dragged Catherine into the kitchen, cramming her into the preheated oven.
Heat blasted as the door opened. Scorching metal seared her skin with sickening sizzles.
"Ah—!"
Screams echoed through the kitchen. Her skin felt pierced by red-hot needles, sweat vaporizing instantly.
She battered the oven door desperately, but the people outside ignored her completely.
Gradually, her consciousness faded, and memories surfaced:
When she was little, Patrick had held her hand and said he would protect her forever;
Her brother had carried her through streets to hospital when she had a fever;
Parents laughed at her birthday...
Not lies. Someone truly loved her once.
Why did they all love others later?
Agony tore through her, but no scream escaped.
After a long time, the oven door finally opened.
Dianna stood outside with a sweet smile: "Cool her down."
A bucket of ice water abruptly poured over Catherine!
"Ah!"
The shock from searing heat to biting cold sent Catherine convulsing. She curled on the ground like a dying fish. Finally, she went completely unconscious.
Chapter 4
The hospital's fluorescent lights stabbed at her eyes.
Catherine lay on the hospital bed, wrapped in bandages all over her body. Burns from the oven still lingered on her skin.
The door swung open as Patrick and Edward walked in.
"Learned your lesson?"
Patrick loomed over her bedside, his voice glacial. "Consider this a warning. Damage Donna's things again, and consequences will be far worse."
Catherine stared blankly at the ceiling, silent.
She had no strength left to argue.
The door reopened as Dianna entered with a soup thermos, sweetness dripping from her smile. "Miss Martin, does ithurt? I made soup to help you recover."
Her fingers dug into Catherine's wounded arm.
"Ah!"
Catherine shoved her away instinctively. Dianna collapsed theatrically, tears welling. "Miss Martin... I just pitied you. If you dislike my concern, why push me—"
"Catherine!"
Edward yanked her wrist. "When will this defiance end?!"
Patrick's eyes frosted over. "Cut off all painkillers and IV nutrients. Let her reflect."
A trembling nurse removed the IV line. Catherine curled up, biting back whimpers.
...
Discharge day coincided with her parents' and Donna's memorial.
Patrick and Edward escorted her to the Cemetery as usual.
Every year brought punishment.
This year's penalty: kneeling and kowtowing up nail-studded steps.
Past years might've sparked resistance.
Now, numbness prevailed.
She knelt expressionlessly. Nails pierced her knees instantly.
Blood snaked down the steps as she rose mechanically—kowtow, stand, kneel...
Patrick and Edward nodded approval. "Finally behaving."
At the gravesite, Catherine's knees were mangled pulp, flesh clinging to bloodied nails.
"Apologize to Mom, Dad, and Donna," Edward commanded coldly.
Kneeling before headstones, her voice scraped raw: "Sorry."
"Louder!" Patrick snapped.
"Sorry..." she repeated hollowly, eyes vacant as an empty shell.
After the memorial, Patrick and Edward departed with Dianna.
"Find your own way back," they tossed over their shoulders.
Catherine struggled upright but didn't head home.
Dragging bleeding legs, she limped to the Cemetery office.
"I'd like to purchase a plot."
The clerk blinked. "For whom—"
"Myself."
Her calm reply hung in the air.
The clerk hesitated but processed paperwork. "This plot is yours. Usable... anytime."
As Catherine murmured thanks, two icy voices cut through:
"Why buy a grave?!"
She turned slowly and saw Patrick and Edward had returned, standing at the doorway with dark expressions that pinned her in place.
Chapter 5
Catherine was about to speak when Dianna suddenly approached from behind, feigning innocence. "Did you all mishear? I clearly heard her say she wasn't buying burial plots—she wants to smash Uncle Andrew, Aunt Ashley, and Donna's graves."
Her soft voice sliced through the air like a blade, piercing Catherine's heart. Catherine stood frozen, too numb to defend herself. She knew they'd never believe her anyway.
Sure enough, Patrick's face darkened instantly. "Catherine! We came to pick you up seeing the storm, and this is what you plot? Did past lessons teach you nothing?"
Edward grabbed her collar, furious. "Was killing Mom, Dad, and Donna not enough? Now you target their graves too?"
Catherine almost laughed. Who had she killed? Everyone was alive—she was the one dying! But before she could speak, Edward yanked her out of the funeral chapel. "Since you never learn, I'll make sure you remember this pain!"
He kicked her back viciously.
"Ah!"
She tumbled down stone steps, jagged edges tearing her skin. Bones cracked with sickening crunches as she rolled downhill like a rag doll. Blood soaked her clothes before agony dragged her into darkness.
——
Rainwater revived Catherine hours later. She lay in a bloodied puddle, utterly alone. Cemetery staff avoided her as if under orders. Ribs likely fractured, right leg useless, forehead gash still oozing—rain mingled with blood, forming crimson streams on the ground.
Gritting her teeth, she crawled toward the nearest railing. Fingers clawed into mud, leaving long bloody trails. Every movement felt like thousands of needles stabbing her.
Finally, she grasped the bars and hauled herself up.
Step.
Step.
Blood dripped down her pants, blooming crimson flowers in the rain.
——
By the time she limped back to the Martin family after hospital treatment, midnight had fallen.
The living room lights glared. Patrick and Edward watched coldly as she hobbled in.
"Learned your lesson?" Edward's voice was ice.
Catherine nodded numbly. "Yes."
"Will you dare repeat it?"
She shook her head.
Only then did they leave satisfied.
——
In the following days, Catherine confined herself indoors. Until Dianna's birthday party forced her out.
The luxury yacht glittered under crystal chandeliers, a champagne tower glowing at its center. Huddled in shadows, Catherine watched Dianna shine onstage.
Patrick knelt, sliding diamond-studded heels onto Dianna's feet. Edward clasped a priceless ruby necklace around her throat. Guests raised glasses, crowding around the radiant figure.
Dazedly, Catherine remembered the past.
Her birthday parties since childhood had always been held on this yacht.
Back then, Patrick would set aside all work to personally decorate the banquet hall; Edward would drive across half the city overnight just because she mentioned craving cake from that shop in the west district; her parents would proudly introduce her to everyone: "This is our most cherished daughter."
But now, she hid in the corner like an invisible ghost, even waiters deliberately bypassing her with champagne trays.
"Now, let's light the birthday fireworks for Miss Dianna!"
The emcee's voice snapped her back to reality.
Guests cheered and surged toward the deck. Catherine, jostled by the crowd, had no choice but to follow.
Sea wind brushed her cheeks, carrying the scent of salt and moisture.
"Boom—"
The first firework bloomed in the night sky, illuminating the entire sea.
Yet at that moment, the clear night sky was suddenly covered in dark clouds!
"What's happening?"
"The weather alert didn't mention rain tonight!"
Before anyone could react, fierce winds howled and torrential rain poured down!
"Ah!"
A colossal wave struck, violently rocking the yacht!
Catherine's feet slipped, sending her tumbling over the railing!
Simultaneously, she saw Dianna flung overboard too!
"Splash!"
"Splash!"
They hit the water almost at the same time.
Icy seawater flooded her nostrils instantly. Catherine struggled desperately to surface.
"Help..."
Her cry was swallowed by the waves.
Through blurred vision, she watched Patrick and Edward leap into the water without hesitation.
They swam straight toward Dianna.
But not a single one glanced back at her.
Chapter 6
Catherine woke again to the sharp sting of disinfectant, realizing she'd been brought back to the hospital.
The room stood empty save for a nurse recording instrument readings.
Seeing her awake, the nurse stated matter-of-factly, "Mr. Davis and Mr. Martin asked me to check on you."
She nodded numbly, pushing herself upright. The nurse handed her a report where "Terminal Cancer" burned her eyes.
Dragging her aching body from the room, she paused outside Dianna's door at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Mom, Dad, don't worry about me. Patrick and Edward take such good care of me."
Dianna's voice dripped cloyingly sweet before shifting to feigned concern. "Oh, I heard Catherine fell into the sea too... Won't you ask about her?"
A pause hung on the line before icy dismissal came: "She made her bed. We only care about you."
Catherine froze outside, heart crushed by an invisible fist.
The parents who'd once cherished her now couldn't care less if she lived or died.
She turned to leave when the door suddenly swung open.
Dianna stood framed in the doorway, wearing a victor's smile. "Heard everything?"
Catherine met her gaze evenly. "Yes."
"So you knew Mom and Dad faked their deaths with me all along, didn't you?"
Dianna advanced step by step.
Catherine lifted hollow eyes. "What if I did? This was your scheme. Why target me?"
"Why?"
Dianna laughed, twisted delight warping her features. "Because you were born the prized Martin heiress while I rotted in some orphanage, trampled by everyone!
Because the world adored you while I had nothing!"
Her voice sharpened to a shriek: "I'll steal everything from you!
Your parents! Your brothers! Your fiancé... I'll make you taste true emptiness!"
Catherine felt no rage. She'd learned.
The necklace around her throat was recording everything.
Dianna's true face, captured completely.
Still gloating, Dianna sneered, "Your parents and Edward are such fools—blind to the clumsiest frame-up."
Her lips curled. "And Patrick? Once so devoted to you, yet now he loves only me.
Catherine, you'll never beat me!"
Suddenly she stepped back, madness flashing in her eyes. "Actually... I've one last plan for you. Get ready to taste hell."
Catherine's heart seized. Before she could recover from the shock, Dianna whirled and hurled herself through the window!
Thud!
The sickening impact echoed from below.
Catherine stood paralyzed, ears ringing.
Then came the roar she knew too well from the hospital lawn.
"Donna!"
Trembling, she stumbled to the window. Patrick and Edward were sprinting toward Dianna's crumpled form on the grass.
Their hands clutched pastry bags—returning with her favorite cake.
Patrick scooped up Dianna covered in blood, voice trembling: "Hang in there, I'll get you to emergency care!"
Edward followed with red eyes, shouting nonstop: "Doctor! Get a doctor now!"
Medical staff rushed over with a gurney, and Dianna was quickly wheeled to the operating room.
As they passed Catherine, Dianna weakly opened her eyes and pointed a trembling finger: "It... was Catherine who pushed me..."
The words felt like ice water dumped over her head, freezing Catherine's blood.
She saw Patrick and Edward turn simultaneously, their gazes cold as poisoned daggers piercing her heart.
"Guards!"
Edward's voice was terrifyingly calm. "Tie her up, take her to the hospital rooftop."
He stepped closer, looking down at Catherine: "Since you dared to push her down, you should taste the same fate."
Bodyguards immediately moved in, roughly grabbing Catherine's wrists.
If this were before, she would've hysterically explained, struggled, begged.
But now she just stared numbly: "If I say it wasn't me, would you believe me?"
Patrick sneered: "With your criminal record, why should we trust you?"
Catherine laughed, tears silently streaming down.
Yeah, she should've known.
They never believed her.
Chapter 7
Bodyguards dragged her to the rooftop. The howling night wind battered her frail frame, threatening to topple her.
To ensure she tasted despair before the fall, they scorned simply pushing her over. Instead, they bound her to the railing with coarse rope. A dull blade emerged, grating against the fibers strand by strand, forcing her to endure the torment of slow severance.
"Screech—screech—"
Each scrape of the blade flayed her nerves, forcing her to confront death's creeping approach with agonizing clarity.
Catherine gazed down at the pavement below, where Dianna's bloodstains remained from her earlier window leap.
The rope grew thinner. Her body began swaying.
When the final fiber snapped, Catherine plummeted like a withered leaf.
"Thud—"
She slammed onto the ground. Blood pooled beneath her, shimmering eerily under the moonlight.
Amidst excruciating pain, her fading consciousness captured Patrick and Edward's retreating silhouettes—cold and detached.
Sunlight stabbed through the hospital blinds when Catherine awoke.
She pried her eyes open, every ache confirming her survival.
The door swung open. Dianna entered with a retinue, victory curling her lips.
"Awake?"
She peered down at Catherine, voice saccharine. "Now you see how much Patrick and Edward adore me?"
Leaning close, she whispered into Catherine's ear: "But this is merely the beginning."
Abruptly, Dianna raised her hand—smacking her own face repeatedly!
"Smack!
Thud!"
The sharp slaps echoed cruelly in the sterile room.
Before Catherine could react, Dianna tore her collar and fled screaming: "Help!
Someone help!"
Footsteps pounded down the corridor.
"What happened?"
Patrick burst in first, his tailored suit radiating frost. Edward followed, his gaze icing over at the sight of Catherine.
Dianna sobbed into Patrick's chest: "Sh-she hired these men to assault me..."
"Catherine!" Patrick gripped her chin. "Must you stir chaos even while broken? Can't you stay still?"
Catherine lay motionless, hollow eyes fixed on the ceiling. Chapped lips parted over gaunt cheeks, an IV needle protruding from her bony wrist.
Her silence fueled Patrick's rage: "Answer me!
Did you send thugs after Dianna?"
Tension choked the room, broken only by the heart monitor's steady beeping.
"Fine. Splendid." Edward's laugh cut cold. "Since you relish such games, enjoy these companions you chose."
He signaled the bodyguards: "Lock the door."
As they pulled Dianna away, she cast a "frightened" glance back: "Patrick, Edward... is this proper? Locking her with those men—"
"What could happen?" Patrick snapped. "They're her own hirelings."
Yet outside, both Patrick and Edward unconsciously paused mid-stride.
The two held their breath and listened. The ward was dead silent, no sound at all. Only then did they leave, completely reassured.
However, what they didn't know was—
Inside the ward, those men peered through the peephole to confirm they'd left.
"They're gone."
The leader grinned, turning toward the hospital bed. "Bros, let's give Catherine some special attention!"
A rough palm clamped over her mouth. The hospital gown ripped with a tear.
When cold air hit her skin, Catherine thrashed wildly.
"Mmph... let go..."
Tears blurred her vision. Desperate whimpers sMomed against the hand.
Her nails gouged deep bloody tracks down the man's arm, earning rougher handling.
"Gush—"
Suddenly, blood sprayed from her mouth, splattering the white sheets.
The men froze.
Then came the second gush, the third...
Blood poured uncontrollably from her lips, swiftly soaking half the bed.
"Fuck!
She's bleeding out!"
"Get the doctor!"
Men scrambled backward. Someone toppled the IV pole—glass shattered amid screams.
Catherine's awareness dimmed. Footsteps and machine alarms echoed in her ears.
"BP crashing!
Prep for CPR!"
"Where's family?
Notify them now!"
The doctor's urgent voice wavered: "Liver failure, clotting disorder. She could stop breathing any second..."
The nurse sobbed: "Called fifty times. Her brother Edward and fiancé Patrick won't believe it. Say she's bribing doctors to fake this..."
Catherine's glazed eyes reflected the ceiling.
Soon...
They'd learn whether this was an act.
Chapter 8
Catherine was ultimately resuscitated.
When she woke, the ward stood deserted, only the heart monitor emitting a monotonous beep.
Seeing her conscious, the nurse rushed over urging her to rest, but she yanked the IV from her hand and stumbled out of bed.
"Miss Catherine!
You can't leave yet!"
The nurse panicked, blocking her way.
"Thank you, but I'm dying. I won't die here."
Her voice was light as a feather, yet carried unyielding finality.
The nurse recoiled instinctively from her hollow gaze.
Catherine dragged her battered body step by step out of the hospital.
As she pushed open the front door, Patrick and Edward sat on the living room sofa, not bothering to look up at the sound.
"Finally decided to come back?"
Patrick snorted coldly. "Done playing dead?"
Flipping through documents, Edward mocked: "Faking an emergency just to make us back off?"
"Even if you really died," Patrick finally lifted his eyes, icy stare piercing her, "we wouldn't shed a tear."
Catherine stood at the threshold, sunlight casting her frail shadow across the floor.
She offered no explanation, made no scene. After one quiet glance, she turned toward her room.
For days, Catherine remained shut inside, silent as a ghost.
Patrick and Edward, unusually, left her alone—even thinking she'd finally learned her lesson.
Until her birthday.
Patrick knocked holding an exquisite gown. "We've prepared a surprise for your birthday."
Edward stood behind him with a rare, gentle smile: "Change quickly. We're taking you somewhere."
Seeing their phony smiles, Catherine almost laughed.
She knew their "surprise."
Today they'd reveal her parents and Donna weren't dead—that it was all an act.
They'd magnanimously promise everything would return to normal... if she stopped targeting Donna.
But...
Nothing could ever go back.
"I need to get ready," she whispered. "Go ahead first."
Edward frowned but nodded. "Don't keep us waiting."
Alone, she slipped into the white gown—pure as a wedding gown.
Yet she went not to the hotel, but alone to the Suspension Bridge.
Night wind lifted her skirt as currents roared beneath.
Leaning on the railing, she gazed at distant city lights, remembering years past:
Her Dad perched her on his shoulders to watch fireworks;
Her Mom gently brushing her hair;
Edward scouring every sweetshop in town because she craved candy;
Patrick blushing under these same stars, whispering: "Catherine, I'll always be good to you."
Those memories now felt like some unreachable dream.
Her phone rang—Patrick calling: "Catherine? Where are you?
We're waiting to give you your surprise."
Catherine gazed at the river, murmuring, "You prepared a surprise for me, and I've got one for you too."
"No need for that!"
Edward snatched the phone, "Catherine, get here now! We've got something important to tell you!"
"I can't make it."
"What?"
She stared into the ink-black water. "Come to the Suspension Bridge. Your surprise is waiting here."
After hanging up, she placed her cancer diagnosis and the necklace exposing Donna's true nature on the railing.
Night winds whipped her long hair as utter calm settled in her heart.
With one last look at the glittering city, she vaulted over the railing without hesitation—leaving no last words.
"Plop!"
Icy currents swallowed her whole.
The river stabbed like knives, yet she only felt release.
Nothing in this world could ever hurt her again.
