Chapter 2

On his hospital bed, my dad had looked at me with hollow eyes. Where are your shares, Clara?

I whispered, I gave them to Julian.

My dad closed his eyes, silent for a painfully long time.

I went to beg Julian. I literally knelt on the floor in front of him, crying, begging him to return the company to my family.

He just sat on the velvet sofa, smoking a cigarette. Through the hazy grey smoke, he looked down at me with an expression of cold disgust that I would never forget.

Shortly after that, he committed me to a high-security private asylum. He told everyone that I had suffered a psychotic break due to the trauma of the kidnapping, claiming I had severe paranoia.

My family was kept under his control, my friends were blocked from contacting me, and the man I once called my husband only visited me once a month. He would stand behind the reinforced glass, staring at me with a completely blank, emotionless face.

They injected me with heavy sedatives for a whole year.

My body deteriorated rapidly. My arms were covered in needle bruises, my muscles withered away, and eventually, I didn't even have the strength to roll over in bed.

In the end, I died on that permanently locked hospital bed.

No one knew.

No one came for me.

But now, here I was, sitting by my bedroom window. Twenty years old, alive, healthy, and perfectly sane.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Julian via Snapchat.

He had regained consciousness at the hospital. He asked if I was okay, if I was traumatized, and said he would come see me the very second he was discharged.

In my past life, he destroyed my family for his own greed.

Going straight to the police wouldn't work right now because I didn't have concrete physical evidence linking him to the kidnapping.

Even if the police caught the two hired thugs, those men wouldn't easily snitch on Julian. And even if they did, Julian had a top-tier legal team; he could easily spin it as a misunderstanding or claim he was being framed.

Besides, in my past life, Julian had casually mentioned that those two kidnappers "disappeared" shortly after. Dead men tell no tales.

If the law couldn't punish him right now, I would do it myself.

I wouldn't let him drain my family's wealth this time, nor would I give him any chance to lock me in an asylum.

I was going to make him feel what it was like to lose absolutely everything.

Everything he did to me in my past life, I would return to him, piece by piece.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then slowly typed back.

Julian, please just focus on recovering. I made some chicken noodle soup. I’ll bring it to the hospital this afternoon.

Send.

In the afternoon, I packed the homemade soup in a thermos and took an Uber to the hospital.

When I pushed open the door to his private suite, Julian was propped up against the pillows. His profile was framed by the window, the soft afternoon sunlight casting long eyelashes over his pale cheeks.

He wore a hospital gown, his neck wrapped in bandages. He was still pale, but he looked much more energetic than yesterday.

When he saw me enter, the corners of his eyes crinkled with warmth, and his lips naturally curved upward.

"Clara? What are you doing here?"

His voice was still a bit raspy, but his tone was filled with pure joy and a touch of concern.

"You went through such a horrific ordeal yesterday. You should be at home resting."

I walked over, set the thermos on the bedside table, and unscrewed the lid. The savory aroma of the chicken soup immediately filled the sterile room.

I poured a bowl, handed it to him, and lowered my eyes, making my voice sound incredibly soft and vulnerable.

"I couldn't just sit at home. I was too worried about you. You lost so much blood... and it was all to protect me."

As he took the bowl, his fingertips brushed against the back of my hand. He paused, then gently wrapped his hand over mine.

"Clara."

He stared into my eyes, his gaze incredibly tender.

"No one will ever hurt you again. I promise."

I looked into his eyes for a brief second, then lowered my head, pretending to blush with embarrassment.

"Drink the soup first before it gets cold."

He smiled and took a sip.

I sat down on the chair beside his bed, watching him eat. I couldn't help but remember the days I spent taking care of him in my past life.

Back then, I had literally spoon-fed him. Every time he finished, he would look at me and say, Clara, you’re so good to me. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of you.

The old me was so moved that she thought she had found her happily ever after.

But the current me was just wondering: Did a single honest word ever come out of this man's mouth?

After he finished the soup, he set the empty bowl down and leaned back against the pillows, his eyes fixed on me.

"By the way, when the detectives interviewed me yesterday, they said they're actively working the case. They mentioned that if they can track down those two kidnappers, they’ll definitely find out who orchestrated the whole thing."