He Went to Hell for Me, But I Let Him Go

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold.

"Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold.

"Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

Celia rose to her feet, her head still lowered, remaining silent. She didn’t respond, and Lucas didn’t leave either. After a while, she finally spoke in a low voice, “I needed to talk to you earlier.”

“What for? You’re standing here perfectly fine. What could possibly be so urgent?”

Her explanation failed to earn his understanding.

Instead, his tone grew colder. “Didn’t I tell you Yvonne isn’t feeling well and that I’d be with her all day? What’s the point of you doing this on purpose? Celia, I’ve told you before not to harbor those improper thoughts about me. I’m your uncle—it’s impossible! If you pull something like this again, you’ll have to move out.”

With that, Lucas went straight upstairs, slamming the door behind him as he entered his room.

Downstairs, Celia remained standing, quietly watching his retreating figure.

After a moment, she softly murmured, “Uncle, I’m sorry. There won’t be a next time. Because... I’m already dead.”

Her voice was barely audible, and Lucas, already upstairs, didn’t hear her words.

Celia didn’t seem to care.

She sat back on the sofa, lost in thought, memories surfacing uncontrollably.

Lucas wasn’t her biological uncle but a close friend of her father’s.

From a young age, she had loved clinging to him, calling him “Brother.”

Every time, Lucas would patiently correct her.

“Not brother, call me Uncle.”

The year she finally switched to calling him “Uncle” was when she was eight. Her parents were killed in a tragic car accident, leaving her orphaned.

Lucas took her in and brought her to his home.

She became the cherished bloom in his life, showered with his undivided care and devotion.

When she first arrived at the Shaw residence, being in an unfamiliar place left her anxious and sleepless night after night. Lucas would juggle his demanding work schedule while patiently staying up to coax her to sleep.

Her frail health had plagued her since childhood, her life sustained by constant medication. When she turned twelve, the rest of the Shaw family, unhappy with Lucas for raising what they called a “draining burden,” insisted he send her away.

Lucas refused. He was willing to leave the Shaw family estate and set up his own home just to keep her with him.

Later, Lucas singlehandedly founded SQ Corporation, building it into a company rivaling the Shaw Group’s stature. Only then did relations between Lucas and the rest of the Shaw family begin to ease.

When she was fifteen, Celia joined a school-organized field trip, only to encounter a sudden landslide that nearly claimed her life. In her most desperate moment, Lucas risked everything, venturing deep into the treacherous mountains to rescue her.

From a young age, whatever she wanted—no matter how outlandish, even the stars in the sky—Lucas would agree without hesitation to fetch them for her.

But the memory that left the deepest impression on Celia was from the year her parents had just passed away. Her body was exceptionally frail, and one time, she fell seriously ill with a high fever, remaining unconscious for three days in the hospital.

When she woke up, fear overwhelmed her.

She clung to Lucas, crying so hard she could barely breathe, her voice trembling as she asked, “Uncle, am I going to die?”

At that time, he said, “Celia, as long as I’m here, no one can take you away from me. Not even the King of the Underworld himself—if he tries, I’ll snatch you back.”

He made that promise with unwavering conviction, and for the next ten years, he truly protected her, from the age of eight to eighteen. No matter how difficult things became, he never once considered giving up on her.

But today, when a burglar broke into the house and stabbed her over a dozen times, Celia called him repeatedly, only for him to reject every single call to care for Yvonne Jones, who had a fever.

Yvonne had entered their lives three months earlier.

On the night it happened, Celia had stolen a kiss while Lucas was asleep.

He woke up unexpectedly, his expression cold as he demanded to know what she was doing.

When he caught her in the act, Celia decided to confess her feelings boldly.

But all she received in return was his outright rejection, his gaze filled with disbelief and disapproval.

To make her give up entirely, he began going on frequent blind dates.

Finally, he brought Yvonne, a woman who seemed perfect in every way, into their lives and flaunted their intimacy before her daily.

When Celia died, she had made countless phone calls to him.

Yvonne had even answered one. But just as Celia was about to plead for help, Yvonne’s voice interrupted her from the other end.

“Celia, is something wrong? Lucas is making oatmeal for me right now and doesn’t have time to answer your call.”

Before Celia could respond, Yvonne hung up.

At that moment, as the call disconnected, Celia took her last breath. Even after death, her soul lingered, consumed by an unyielding fixation. The anomaly did not escape the King of the Underworld’s notice, and he sought her out. It was then she struck a deal with him.

In exchange for her soul being obliterated and barred from reincarnation forever, she bargained for seven days to return to the mortal world and settle her affairs.

Celia walked to the calendar hanging on the wall. If Lucas had been observant, he would have noticed this calendar only had seven days.

She tore off a page, her voice soft as she murmured, “Uncle, today marks the first day of my farewell to you.”