“Damn, I didn’t expect Mrs. Fowler to be that hot. No wonder Conrad used to worship the ground she walked on. I heard once, some CEO spilled wine on her dress by accident and Conrad had the guy’s entire company wiped out from New York overnight!”
“So what? She’s just another woman. He got bored and dumped her. Word is, that homeless guy was hired by Mr. Fowler himself, all because Mrs. Fowler drugged his mistress.”
“Tsk, tsk. A wife getting played like that by the side chick? Embarrassing.”
Zara’s fingernails broke from clenching too hard, but she didn’t even feel the pain.
She scrambled to turn off the video, but Conrad grabbed her and forced her down.
“Can’t handle it now? When you spiked Wrena’s soup and made her strip in front of everyone, did you ever think this day would come?”
“I didn’t—”
Zara didn’t even understand what had happened. All she remembered was Wrena stumbling in, pale and weepy, accusing her in front of everyone.
“Mrs. Fowler, it’s not what you think. Conrad and I are just close friends. If you didn’t want to make me that soup, you could’ve said no. Why did you have to drug it and make me a laughingstock?”
Only then did Zara realize that after Wrena had the soup she brought, she’d started tearing off her clothes uncontrollably. During the examination, Wrena had even started dancing seductively in front of the doctors and nurses.
Conrad had immediately ordered all the footage destroyed and paid everyone hush money.
But the soup Zara brought? It tested positive for drugs.
“Conrad, I didn’t drug her. What do I have to do for you to believe me?”
Looking at her shattered face—so fragile and desperate—Conrad, for the first time, began to doubt.
Zara had always been kind. She even took him in when he was just some stranger passed out on the roadside.
Would she really try to poison Wrena?
“Zara, it’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just... everything you’ve done lately—”
Before he could finish, the ground started to shake violently.
Someone screamed, “Earthquake!”
Panic erupted as everyone ran for the exits. Instinctively, Conrad turned toward Zara.
“Zara, don’t worry! I’m coming—”
“Mr. Fowler! I twisted my ankle—it hurts!”
For a split second, Zara saw the hesitation in his eyes.
Then came the words: “Zara, I’ll get Wrena out first. I’ll come back for you right away!”
And just like that, he rushed off—straight to Wrena—without another glance back.
The room was chaos. A massive chandelier above Zara snapped loose and came crashing down, slamming into her head. Blood poured down her face.
As her vision blurred, she saw Conrad carrying Wrena to safety.
She suddenly remembered that summer trip to Alaska. They’d gone skiing and got caught in an avalanche. Conrad had the chance to escape but chose to shield her with his own body.
"Do you believe in ‘till death do us part?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Well, I don’t. Because if you die, I’d kill myself so even death can’t do us part.”
Back then, when she was shivering amidst the snowstorm, Conrad stripped off his jacket to wrap her up. Even when he shivered himself.
His love used to be real. And maybe that’s what makes it hurt so much now.
The earthquake hit a magnitude seven and rocked the entire city.
By the time the rescue team arrived, the entire venue had collapsed into rubble.
Zara had been trapped beneath the debris for thirty hours.
As her consciousness faded, she thought she heard Conrad’s frantic roar from outside.
“Where the hell are the rescue teams? What’s taking them so long? Dig her out! Now!”
