Thanks to the timely rescue, I survived—but not without consequence.
The smoke had filled my lungs, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
Out of guilt, Nathan sent me to the hospital and stayed at my bedside all night.
He even had the doctor prepare a herbal decoction to help my recovery.
“Drink some of this,” he said softly, gently blowing on the bowl to cool it. “It’ll soothe your throat.”
He brought it to my lips with practiced care.
I stared into the dark, bitter liquid and spoke hoarsely, my voice laced with irony.
“Nathan… you know I hate medicine the most.”
I hadn’t forgotten.
After my miscarriage, I drank countless bowls of this same bitterness, visiting specialists, enduring treatments—hoping to repair my body so we could have another child.
You hated the smell of those herbs.
Said it clung to everything.
You preferred the scent of Madeline’s apartment—light, floral, like the perfume she wore.
The contrast had cut me open then, and the memory still bled now.
I lifted my gaze, searching his face, trying to see if any remorse lived behind those eyes.
His expression tensed. He looked away, then quickly set down the bowl.
“…Drink it if you want. I have something to do.”
And he left.
Moments later, Madeline entered, wearing her usual victorious smile.
“This little test went better than I expected,” she purred. “Seven years, and that’s all it took for Nathan to walk away from you.”
We had already agreed to meet that night for the exchange.
Under the silver moon, at the cliff by the sea, I arrived first.
She stood waiting, the sea breeze teasing her hair, her silhouette like a ghost in the fog.
“I brought it,” she said, holding up a small wooden box. “Where’s the divorce agreement?”
I took the signed papers from my bag—mine and Nathan’s signatures clear on the page—and handed them to her.
Her eyes scanned every word, her expression lit with triumph.
“You actually got him to sign? You really are full of surprises,” she smirked. “Don’t worry—I won’t tell him.”
“I want the dagger,” I said coldly, ignoring her smugness and reaching out.
But instead of handing it over, she clutched the box tighter and took a few quick steps toward the cliff’s edge.
Her voice turned airy, distant.
“Eva… do you know something?”
She looked at me with strange clarity, almost manic.
“I regret it.”
Then—with no warning—she raised her arm and hurled the box into the air with all her strength.
“NO!”
I lunged forward, eyes wide with horror, heart pounding.
The wooden box spun once before vanishing into the black waves below.
Gone.
The last thread of hope for my father—snuffed out by the sea.
My world tilted.
Blinded by rage, I screamed and ran toward her, fueled by anguish and fury.
“Madeline! I’ll kill you!”
But before I could reach her, a force crashed into me from the side.
I hit the ground hard—my body screaming in pain, the impact jarring every bone.
Nathan.
He’d appeared from the shadows and tackled me with full force.
I lay gasping on the cold earth, unable to move, as he ran to shield Madeline.
She clung to him like a terrified dove, trembling in his arms.
“Eva!” he roared, eyes blazing with fury. “You lunatic! Madeline said you were dangerous—and she was right!”
His voice turned cold, final.
“I was going to testify for your father. But after what you just did? Forget it. I won’t be attending the trial. You made your bed—now lie in it.”
He wrapped his arms around Madeline and led her away.
He didn’t even look back.
“Nathan! No!” I screamed, dragging myself across the ground.
But my broken leg gave out again, and I collapsed.
I clawed at the earth, sobbing, helpless.
Despair crashed over me like the waves below the cliff—cold, relentless, drowning me.
Then, my phone vibrated violently in my pocket.
With shaking fingers, I answered.
“Ms. Eva?!” It was Lawyer Carter. His voice was tight with urgency. “Where are you?! The court just moved your father’s final verdict—it's scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine! We’re out of time! Do you have the evidence?!”
The phone slipped from my hands and landed on the dirt.
Tears blurred my vision.
Gone. Everything… was gone.
There was no dagger. No testimony. No time.
And no one left who would save him.
My father's face floated into my mind—tired, worn, but always smiling.
“Eva… Don’t worry about me. Live well.”
But how could I?
How could I live, knowing he would die for a crime he didn’t commit?
There was no hope left.
