Chapter 8

His usually immaculate black robes were covered in dust.

Blood seeped from his forehead, and his breathing was ragged, as if he'd run dozens of miles.

His gaze swept over us, then sharply contracted.

It was the first time I'd seen him so disheveled.

This man, as cold and composed as a stone statue, actually had moments when he couldn't catch his breath.

He had clearly rushed here himself after the car crash, realizing we were missing, and sending others to search.

The bomb had only one minute left.

Time enough to save only one.

He didn't hesitate for a second, rushing straight to Seraphina.

He crouched down, his fingers rapidly disarming the bomb on her chest.

Without lifting his head, he said, "Claire Thorne, I'll get her out, then I'll be right back for you."

I smiled.

But strangely, I didn't feel any pain at all.

Perhaps when love dies, the heart stops hurting too.

He finished disarming Seraphina's bomb.

Only twenty seconds remained on the countdown.

Seraphina clutched his arm tightly, trembling so hard she could barely speak. "Adrian! Go! It's going to explode!"

But Adrian pushed her away.

He urged her to run first, then turned to disarm mine.

I grabbed his hand.

And pushed him away forcefully, my voice as calm as if I were talking about someone else's business. "Adrian, take her and go. From today on, I don't need you. My life or death has nothing to do with you. I, Claire Thorne, am not unwanted. If you don't care for me, plenty of others will."

He froze.

His eyes looked frozen.

Seraphina on the side was crying hysterically. "Adrian! I'm scared! If you don't leave, I won't either!"

Time ticked by, second by second.

If we didn't leave now, all three of us would die here.

At the last moment, he still picked up Seraphina and ran out.

I closed my eyes.

My fingers fumbled at the bomb.

I had taken a demolition class in college and vaguely remembered some things.

"Click."

At the last second, I disarmed the wire.

But the explosion still came.

The heat blast threw me backward.

Before losing consciousness, I thought I saw Adrian's figure turning back.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital.

My arm ached as if it were being drilled by needles.

Adrian sat by the bed. Seeing my eyes open, he immediately pressed me down. "Don't move. You just had skin grafted for Seraphina."

"…What did you say?" My mind went blank, thinking I'd misheard.

He paused.

His voice was tinged with rare guilt. "Seraphina's arm was burned in the blast. She was afraid of scarring, and your skin tone is the most similar to hers, so a piece of your skin was used for her."

I stared at him, utterly disbelieving.

"Adrian, did you even ask me?"

"I'll compensate you," he said, his tone soothing. "Didn't you always want to go out with me? After you're discharged…"

"Who wants your compensation!"

I violently pulled out the needle, blood streaming down the back of my hand. "You can't treat someone like this!"

He froze, as if he hadn't expected me to react this way.

"Seraphina is your precious darling, and I'm just dirt, right?"

My eyes were red, my voice trembling. "You just take advantage of the fact that I like you… you just take advantage…"

I couldn't finish.

My throat felt clogged.

His chest felt heavy.

He suddenly remembered what I'd said in the warehouse—

[If you don't care for me, plenty of others will.]

He was about to speak.

His phone rang.

Chapter 7

His assistant's hurried voice came through: "Mr. Adrian, the jade jewelry set Ms. Seraphina has always wanted is being auctioned tonight in London. Will you be attending…?"

He gave a soft "Mm."