There were bloodstains on Liam Foster’s impeccably tailored suit—no one knew where they came from. The sight made him look disheveled, rushed. His gaze darted between the two of us hanging in midair. When his eyes landed on the boiling oil pot beneath us—rolling violently, heat waves surging upward—his pupils contracted sharply. His entire body froze, his breathing turning rapid and heavy.
Seeing this, Vanessa Bennett’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Large drops rolled down her cheeks as she looked at Liam, choking back sobs, every bit the picture of a terrified victim.
“Liam… I’m so scared. Please save me. I don’t want to die here.”
Perhaps because our struggling had been too violent, the rope above us suddenly began to sway. The already weakened joint creaked loudly, then snapped partway with a sharp crack. Our bodies dropped several inches at once, leaving less than half a meter between us and the seething oil. A scorching wave of heat rushed toward us, hot enough to burn skin.
At the brink of life and death, Liam didn’t hesitate for even a second. He sprinted straight toward the only ladder nearby, climbed it swiftly, and cut the rope binding Vanessa. He pulled her tightly into his arms, murmured a few words of comfort, then turned to climb down. He didn’t look back even once, leaving me only with his cold back as he said flatly:
“Clara, hold on a little longer. Once I get Vanessa out safely, I’ll come back and save you.”
I watched his unhesitating retreat and suddenly laughed. My laughter was hoarse, bitter, and soaked in irony, even as tears spilled uncontrollably. The man before me overlapped with the boy from my memories—the seventeen-year-old who used to wait for me after school with an umbrella on rainy days, who would press the sweetest candy into my palm, who held my hand and swore with utter seriousness that he would protect me for the rest of his life and never let me be hurt.
As if sensing my gaze, Liam paused for a fraction of a second while carrying Vanessa down the ladder and instinctively glanced back at me. In that look, there seemed to be a trace of hesitation—or maybe it was just my imagination.
Before I could see clearly, his men shouted urgently from nearby:
“Mr. Foster, it’s too dangerous here. Get Miss Bennett out first!”
At the same time, a vague voice echoed in my mind—a boy’s voice, anxious and urgent:
“Clara Bennett, don’t be afraid. Don’t believe him anymore…”
Liam didn’t hesitate again. Holding Vanessa, he strode toward the exit. By then, my body was nearly brushing the edge of the oil pot. Scalding droplets splashed onto my skin, sending sharp jolts of pain through me. I forced myself onto my tiptoes, pressing them against the ground at the pot’s edge, barely managing to keep from sliding any lower. I couldn’t even spare a thought for the soles of my shoes burning from the heat.
In Liam’s arms, Vanessa deliberately turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were filled with provocation and triumph. She didn’t speak—she only moved her lips, silently forming the words:
See? I won again.
Liam set Vanessa down in a safe spot and was just about to turn back and rush into the warehouse to save me when my voice rang out behind him—cold, resolute, final.
“Liam Foster, don’t bother. Take her and go. From this moment on, there is no relationship between us anymore.”
His steps halted abruptly. He froze, then turned back to look at me, shock written all over his face.
At that moment, Vanessa suddenly cried out and grabbed her calf, her brows knitting as she looked at Liam through tearful eyes.
“Liam! I think my leg got burned by the splashing oil just now. It hurts so much…”
Liam’s gaze dropped to the reddened skin on her calf. He hesitated for only a heartbeat before making his choice. He bent down, scooped Vanessa up in his arms, and hurried toward the exit, only managing to say one apologetic sentence over his shoulder:
“Clara, wait for me a little longer! I’ll be right back!”
Wait for you?
There was no need.
Watching him carry Vanessa away in a rush, the last faint spark of hope inside me went out completely. At that exact moment, the rope above my head snapped with a sharp crack and broke apart entirely. I instinctively curled my body and used the momentum of the fall to roll sideways, barely avoiding the boiling oil—but my forehead slammed hard into a jagged stone on the ground. Blinding pain tore through me.
In the final second before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw a hallucination—eighteen-year-old Liam standing in the sunlight not far away, dressed in a clean white shirt, smiling and clapping for me, his eyes bright and gentle. He looked nothing like the cold, biased man he had become.
…
When I woke again, it was the familiar hospital room. The smell of disinfectant filled my nose, making my stomach churn. The nurse beside me noticed I was awake and spoke softly:
“Miss Bennett, you’ve practically lived in the hospital this past month. Your body’s too weak. There’s no one here taking care of you—would you like us to call a family member?”
I lay on the bed, thick gauze wrapped around my head, my burned calf sending waves of piercing pain. I turned my head and saw Liam sitting on a chair beside the bed. My voice was hoarse, barely recognizable.
“That kidnapping was staged by Vanessa Bennett. I’m calling the police.”
Liam stayed silent, his fingers curling slightly. After a long pause, he finally spoke, guilt rare in his tone.
“Vanessa… she was hurt too this time. The burn on her leg is pretty serious.”
He paused, trying to persuade me.
“And she’s your own sister. Do you really have the heart to see her taken away by the police and left with a criminal record?”
I stared at him in disbelief, my eyes filled with fury and mockery.
“Liam Foster, are you out of your mind?”
“She almost killed me! Even if she were my full-blooded sister, I have the right to call the police and the right to hold her accountable!”
“I’ll compensate you,” Liam cut in quickly, his voice full of remorse. “Didn’t you always want a wedding of the century? Once you’re discharged this time, we’ll start preparing immediately and get it done. As long as I’m here, no one will ever bully you again.”
“Who wants your compensation? Who wants your wedding of the century?”
I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sharp smack echoed through the quiet room.
I screamed, releasing all the rage and despair I had bottled up for so long:
“Liam Foster, the only person who’s ever bullied me is you! I’m breaking up with you—right now, this instant!”
His head snapped to the side from the blow. His cheek burned, and his eyes were filled with shock, as if he had never imagined I could be this resolute. He stood frozen for a few seconds, about to speak, when hurried knocking suddenly sounded at the door.
A caregiver rushed in, flustered.
“Mr. Foster, Miss Vanessa Bennett in the next room says if she doesn’t see you, she won’t let us apply her medication and keeps crying. Should you go check on her?”
Liam’s body stiffened. After only a moment’s hesitation, he stood up and turned toward me, his tone perfunctory, soothing in name only.
“Clara, I’ll go see Vanessa first and make sure she gets her treatment. You rest here and don’t overthink things.”
“Don’t worry. This time, the wedding definitely won’t be postponed. I’ll give you a proper explanation.”
With that, he didn’t linger. He pushed the door open and strode out of the room, never once looking back at the deathly pale look on my face.
