Chapter 3

I gripped the blanket tightly to keep myself from crying.

Adrian had completely lost his patience too.

His tone was irritable:

"Luna, it's been five years since this happened. No matter how deep the hatred, it's time to let it go."

"Lillian has already paid for her mistakes. Why can't you be more magnanimous and make peace? Do you have to drive her to death before you're satisfied?"

I looked at Adrian and found him terrifyingly unfamiliar.

Back when I was kidnapped, he'd personally watched me kneel on the ground, holding my brother's shattered body, sobbing in complete breakdown.

To make Lillian pay, he'd hired the best lawyer and sent the then-underage Lillian to prison for five years.

But now, he was telling me to let it go.

I gave a bitter smile.

"Even if Lillian killed herself in atonement, her worthless life wouldn't make up for the sins she committed. Because of her, it wasn't just my brother who died—many police officers on that mission were killed too."

"Adrian, do you know how many officers died in that operation? Thirty-one! Thirty-one people!"

My eyes were bloodshot:

"Someone like her should go to hell!"

Adrian clenched his fists, his breathing ragged, clearly struggling to restrain himself.

Just like when he'd ignored police orders and rushed forward to try to strangle the already-handcuffed Lillian.

Adrian took a deep breath and said slowly:

"I know losing your family was painful. But think about it—Lillian has had it so much worse than you. Her parents and brother never loved her, but you—at least your family loved you."

"Lillian causing your family's deaths was wrong. But you insulting her today is also wrong. She apologized for what happened to your family, so you should apologize to her too."

"If you're really this heartless, then everything you suffered—losing your family—is what you deserve!"

I looked up at him in disbelief.

Six years ago, many people blamed me for what happened, saying I deserved it.

Out of guilt, I developed severe depression.

When I used a razor blade to cut my wrists, it was Adrian who'd snatched the blade from my hand, letting his own hand get sliced until it bled profusely.

He'd held me tightly and said it wasn't my fault, that from then on he'd protect me in my brother's place.

But now, he'd become like those people, saying everything I'd suffered was my own fault, that I deserved it.

Because of the heartache, I didn't even realize I was bleeding until I felt warmth beneath me and knew I was miscarrying.

The white bed sheet was instantly stained red, but Adrian remained completely oblivious.

He continued his relentless lecture.

Until I clutched my stomach, my face deathly pale, and said:

"Hospital... take me to the hospital."

Adrian frowned:

"I say two words to you and you start faking being sick again."

Just then, Adrian suddenly noticed the blood on the bed.

He froze, then tremblingly lifted my blanket. When he saw what was underneath, he let out a sigh of relief.

"I thought something serious happened. Turns out the bandage on your foot just came loose."

Adrian had only lifted the blanket casually, and with the bandage on my right foot having just split open, he mistook the blood for coming from that wound.

"Wait here, I'll get you a doctor."

Adrian was about to leave when Lillian suddenly stumbled after seeing the blood on the bed.

Adrian quickly caught her, his tone anxious:

"What's wrong?"

Lillian leaned against him, her voice weak:

"Ever since what happened six years ago, I've been afraid of anything bloody. Whenever I see blood I get dizzy. My therapist says it's psychological trauma."

She cried until her face was covered in tears, and before Adrian could react, she fainted.

"Lily, wake up! Don't scare me!"

Adrian immediately gathered Lillian in his arms, his voice urgent, his eyes full of concern.

Adrian had always been steady. Six years ago, before he'd even joined the Special Forces, he'd dared to infiltrate the criminals' hideout alone to save me.

But after just six years, he was holding Lillian and leaving—just like he'd once held me.

I lay in the bed, feeling the pain from my abdomen.

In the emergency room, a nurse called my emergency contact.

But after seven consecutive calls went unanswered, Adrian finally sent me a message after the seventh attempt.

"Reflect on yourself."

Then he turned off his phone.

I said to the doctor:

"If this child can't be saved, don't force it."

When I came out of surgery, touching my abdomen that no longer held life, I booked a ticket to France.