Chapter 1

I traded three years of my youth for a love that was nothing but a complete mistake.

I was the one who saved Lucas from that kidnapping chamber. I was the one whose wrist bears the scar from protecting him.

But he kept my words close and worshipped my sister as the light in his darkness.

My father forced me to marry into a wealthy family, to a useless man in a vegetative state, to plug the holes in our family business.

I thought Lucas would refuse on my behalf. Instead, he said.

"Hurry up and marry him. Don't hold up my wedding to Vivian."

When I turned around and married into the Quinn family, becoming Mrs. Quinn, only then did he frantically search the world for me.

But he'll never know that I never bowed to fate. I came to collect every blood debt he owes me, with my own hands.

Jade's POV

"The vegetable from the Quinn family. I'll marry him."

Vincent froze for a moment, then a delighted smile spread across his face. "Jade, you've come around? The Quinn family may have a comatose heir right now, but they're true old money. Once you marry in for this business alliance, the capital injection..."

"I have conditions."

"Name them." Vincent's mood lifted as he settled back into his leather ergonomic chair.

"Mother's shares-I want them liquidated." I held up one finger. "Ten billion dollars."

"Ten billion? That's all of the Reynolds family's liquid assets! Right now Vivian's venture has some losses..."

"Those are her losses." I looked at him coldly. "Pay me what I'm owed, and I'll marry him. If not, let Vivian marry him herself."

Vincent slammed his hand on the desk, about to lose his temper, then held back.

He needed the Quinn family's money.

"Fine." He gritted his teeth. "What else?"

"Transfer Lucas's employment contract to Vivian."

This time Vincent was genuinely stunned.

The whole city knew I protected my bodyguard Lucas above all else.

Three years ago when he was kidnapped, I went crazy trying to find a way to rescue him.

"Can you really bear to?" Vincent narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you saying you'd marry no one but him?"

The scar on my left wrist throbbed with phantom pain.

"As long as you pay what I'm owed, you can take him." I sneered. "Reassign him as Vivian's bodyguard, or whatever else she wants-she's been eyeing him anyway."

Vincent stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether I meant it.

In the end, he compromised in the face of such massive capital and the temptation of currying favor with the Quinns.

"Fine. Once the Quinn family's betrothal gift arrives, I'll transfer the money."

I turned to leave.

My hand had just touched the doorknob when Vincent's voice came from behind me. "Jade, can you really bear it? That's Lucas we're talking about."

My right hand on the doorknob trembled slightly as I remembered the devout look in Lucas's eyes when he gazed at Vivian. I only felt it was ridiculous.

I didn't answer. I slammed the study door with force.

Downstairs, the living room was brightly lit.

The floor was covered with pink balloons and various luxury gift boxes.

This was the warm-up for Vivian's celebration party.

My marriage was a bargaining chip in a ten-billion-dollar transaction-no one cared.

The illegitimate daughter's fake nomination was worth the whole family decorating with lights and colors.

A pink balloon drifted to my feet.

I lifted my heel expressionlessly and crushed it down hard.

Pop.

The sound of the balloon bursting echoed through the empty living room.

I walked through the corridor to Lucas's quarters.

Because of his severe photophobia, all the lawn lights in this area had been specially dimmed.

The door to his meditation room was ajar, with no lights on inside, only a faint red glow seeping through.

I didn't go in. I just stood quietly at the door.

Heavy breathing came from inside, carrying a sickly oppression.

Through the gap in the door, I saw Lucas sitting on the carpet, holding an exquisitely mounted manuscript in his hands.

He buried his face in that calligraphy, breathing deeply, like a dying person inhaling oxygen.

His fingers traced over the ink marks on the paper bit by bit.

"Vivian..."

"Only your writing can save me."

That piece of calligraphy was signed "Vivian Reynolds," but the handwriting was actually my unique script.

Three years ago, he and I were locked in adjacent cells.

I slipped notes to him through cracks in the wall, using this handwriting style to write encouraging words to keep him alive.

The day we were rescued, I was carried away in a high fever and delirium. Vivian stood before him holding a stack of my manuscripts.

So he decided that the person who gave him light in the darkness was Vivian.