A hollow laugh escaped her throat. Her eyes were bloodshot, mirrors of the raw agony clawing through my own chest.
"I was a fool. I actually thought you'd let me have my way for once. I personally brought you here—brought a murderer to the scene—heh..."
The laughter cracked. Splintered into something jagged and wrong.
Then her hand cracked across her own face.
The sound echoed like a gunshot through the silent hall.
"Now there is no one standing between us." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm going to spend my whole life tethered to you. Are you happy now?"
"Tessa!"
The words died in my throat.
But she was already turning away. Her gait unsteady. Staggering. Crimson dripped from her sleeve, leaving a macabre trail across the floor tiles—souvenirs from the chandelier she'd shoved me away from moments ago.
She didn't look back.
---
A memorial wall rose from the ruins.
His photo stared back at me.
Tessa came too. From a distance, I watched her lay white chrysanthemums before his portrait. I didn't dare call out to her. I watched until she disappeared from view.
I truly wanted them to be together.
I had exhausted myself investigating this "long-lost brother." But before I could find a single lead—before the slightest sign of his existence could be confirmed—he was dead.
For Tessa. For me. The "One That Got Away" who died young had become an unsolvable riddle.
A ghost we could never defeat.
I drifted home in a daze. For three days, food turned to ash in my mouth.
On the fourth night, a knock at my door.
Father stood there, a bowl of seafood porridge in his hands.
"Eat. Then I will tell you the truth about that younger brother."
My head lifted. My expression hollow. "He's dead. It doesn't matter anymore. What I wanted to do... it's impossible now."
Tessa would hate me, just as she had in my previous life. The debt of a saved life, the regrets of a past timeline—none of it could ever be repaid.
"I don't think he's dead," Father said quietly.
My breath stopped.
He stayed for half an hour after I finished the porridge. When he finally left, I opened my door to find my subordinate waiting in the hallway.
I handed him a slip of paper. An address.
"Go. Bring him back."
"Yes, sir."
I watched him walk away.
A solitary tear escaped the corner of my eye.
If Father was right, then I hoped—truly hoped—that this time, those two could be together properly.
---
Not long after, the investigation concluded.
A contract killing. A rival businessman had hired a hitman, bribing the stage crew to bury explosives during setup.
Tessa came to see me.
I refused.
She begged my father. Only then was she allowed to stand outside my door. She didn't ask to come in. Instead, she spoke through the heavy wood.
"It was me. I couldn't distinguish right from wrong. I pinned the blame on you because I lost my mind with grief. I'm sorry. Your face... is it healing?"
Silence. I stared at the grain of the door.
"He's gone, and I've given up. In this life, as long as you're willing, I will play the role of the perfect wife. I will be your helper. If you ever regret this arrangement, I will leave with nothing."
A pause.
"Consider it... my atonement for that slap."
She had come to apologize. But beneath the contrition, I heard only resignation. We had grown up together; I knew every inflection of her voice.
A heavy sigh drifted from the other side of the door.
Her footsteps faded down the hall.
I yanked open the door.
Gone. I couldn't even catch a glimpse of her retreating back.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. "Don't worry, Tessa. The wedding suit has already been altered to his size. You won't have any regrets in this life."
My subordinate approached, a document in hand. "Young Master, the Ruan family's marriage proposal. President Lu says he will only sign off on the merger if you agree to the union."
"Sign it."
I stared in the direction Tessa had disappeared.
I didn't ask about the Ruan family's status. I didn't ask which daughter I was agreeing to marry.
It didn't matter.
---
Before the ceremony began, Tessa stood frozen before a photograph.
His photograph. The "dead" man.
Only when my subordinate came to urge her forward did she tear her gaze away. Reluctantly, she tossed the photo into the trash can.
She pushed open the doors.
The groom stood with his back to her.
Twenty years of looking at my face had dulled any anticipation. Her eyes held only a quiet acceptance of duty. She reached out, casually turning him around.
"Let's begin—"
Her hand froze mid-air.
A chill raced down her spine, numbing her scalp.
"You... you aren't dead?"
The man was ready. In one smooth motion, he pulled her into his arms. "I jumped from the building that day and lost consciousness. I couldn't contact you while I was recovering. I'm sorry."
Tessa went rigid. "Where is Vincent?"
She shoved him back, panic rising in her voice. "Vincent—"
He wouldn't answer. Or couldn't.
She spun and bolted.
Her fingers stabbed at my number as she ran. No answer. She ignored the man chasing after her, shouting her name. She threw herself into her car and floored the gas pedal.
"Vincent Delgado, what the hell are you doing?!"
