The day after Melanie left the country, Yasmin wasted no time having the household staff replace every curtain and rug in the house with styles she preferred. 

As Zachary stepped into the house that evening, his eyes narrowed sharply.

Several maids were carrying Melanie's mahogany desk out of her study. Her favorite pen and a stack of books were still resting atop it.

"What are you doing?"

Zachary's voice was cold and cutting. In an instant, the living room fell silent. 

The household staff froze in place. After a brief pause, one of them hurriedly explained, "Mr. Fuller, Ms. Lloyd said this room gets great natural light. She wants to turn it into an art studio."

Zachary's expression darkened. "An art studio? And what if Melanie comes back?" he asked sharply. 

The maids kept their heads down. No one dared to answer. 

For days now, Yasmin had been getting rid of Melanie's belongin

Zachary furrowed his brow slightly as unease crept up his spine. He raised a hand to massage his temples, trying to shake off the strange discomfort gnawing at him. 

"I can't be late for the board meeting," he eventually said. 

Yasmin sat up with the sheets wrapped around her and began tracing circles on his back. "Then… come home early tonight?"

Her flushed face still bore the afterglow of satisfaction, but a calculating glint flashed in her eyes. 

…

The moment Zachary left, Yasmin grabbed her phone and called Susan to tell her the good news. 

"I told you, didn't I? Zachary isn't over you," Susan responded, her voice bubbling with excitement. 

She continued, "Everything's been taken care of at the hospital. The doctor who saw you before will admit it's a misdiagnosis. Once you're carrying his child, we'll see what Melanie has to fight you with."

…

Meanwhile, Zachary had arrived

"Melanie Lloyd! You nearly killed Yasmin, and you're sleeping like nothing happened?"

Melanie lifted her head with great effort and saw Charles standing over her, his eyes red with fury. 

Beside him, Susan kept her head down, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. 

"Mel, your sister doesn't have much time left. Why can't you just leave her alone? We overlooked what happened at the farewell party, but this time, you nearly killed her!" Susan choked out, tears streaming down her face.

Melanie gripped the sheets tightly, unable to stand another second of Susan's tearful performance. She pushed herself upright and spoke slowly, each word deliberate. 

"I wasn't the one who posted that curse at the farewell party, and I didn't push her off the cliff. Yasmin's been setting me up, and you've let it happen every time. Aren't you afraid it'll come back to haunt you?"

Almost immediately, a hard slap cracked across her face.

Melanie staggered back, blood welling at the corner of her mouth.

"You ungrateful brat!" Charles was trembling with rage. "Your mother was the same—always blaming everyone else for her own mess. And now, you…"

Susan placed a calming hand on his back. "Charles, please calm down. This is on me. I failed to raise her properly."

"This has nothing to do with you!" Charles snapped.

His eyes stayed locked on Melanie as he added, "If you're so capable, then from now on, you're no longer my daughter!"

With that, he stormed out with Susan, the door slamming shut behind them. 

At that moment, a streak of lightning tore through the sky. Within seconds, rain came pouring down in torrents.

Melanie sank to the floor, her thin frame curling inward as she pulled her knees to her chest. She buried her face against them and cried silently.

In a haze, her mother's final words drifted back to her.

Her mother's frail hand had clutched hers tightly. Though her voice was barely above a whisper, every word was clear.

"Mel… Whatever comes next, promise me you'll keep going. I'll be watching you from above…"

Over the years, Melanie had forced herself to eat properly and go to bed on time. She had wanted her mother to see that even without Charles' love, she could still live a full and decent life.

But now…

"Mom…" Melanie whispered, tears soaking through the fabric at her knees. "I must be such a disappointment to you."

Outside, the storm raged on.

Melanie remained curled up on the floor, tears still falling, until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

…

When Melanie woke up again, she was lying on the living room couch. She had no idea when or how she had been moved there.

The fire crackled in the fireplace. Meanwhile, Zachary sat beside her with a cigarette between his slender fingers, smoke curling upward.

Melanie's throat burned, but she still managed to whisper, "Zachary."

He turned at the sound of her voice. However, the warmth that once filled his eyes had vanished, replaced by something cold.

"You're awake."

"How did I end up here?" asked Melanie. 

She tried to sit up but quickly realized her body was far too weak.

Zachary didn't answer. His tone was detached as he said, "I was on my way to pick you up yesterday, but Yasmin's exhibit caught fire. Not a single painting could be saved."

Melanie felt her stomach drop. She understood exactly what he was implying, so she rushed to defend herself. "I didn't start the fire! None of it was my doing. You can look into—"

"Melanie." 

Zachary's voice was soft as he cut her off. There was something in his eyes that she didn't recognize, and it rattled her.

"Being an artist was Yasmin's biggest dream. Those paintings were everything to her. She'd never destroy them herself," he stated.

At that, Melanie's hands began to tremble. "What are you trying to say?"

"I haven't told your father or Yasmin that you started the fire. But that doesn't mean I'll just let it go."

Zachary rose and looked down at her before adding, "Now, it's your turn to know what it feels like to lose something you love."

Only then did Melanie notice what he was holding—the stuffed toy her mother had sewn for her before she died. 

He slowly tightened his grip around it, and the fabric crumpled under the strain. "I know this means everything to you. If I destroy it, it'll break you, won't it?"

"No!"

Melanie practically tumbled off the couch, staggering as she lunged toward him.

Her mother had made it for her when she was ten. Despite being so sick that she could barely hold a needle, she had insisted on finishing it.

On her deathbed, she had pressed it into Melanie's hands and said gently, "Mel, I can't stay with you any longer. If you ever miss me, just look at this."

Later, Melanie had secretly sewn a small portion of her mother's ashes into the toy. She fell asleep with it in her arms every day, and it helped her survive one unbearable night after another. 

And now, Zachary was going to destroy it.

"I told you. Once Yasmin's gone, everything will go back to the way it was. You're the one who wouldn't listen."

With that, Zachary raised his hand and flung the toy into the fireplace. 

"No!" 

Melanie let out a gut-wrenching scream and hurled herself toward the fire without a second thought. 

Flames seared her arms, but she didn't seem to feel a thing. All she knew was that she had to pull the scorched toy from the fire.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the ruined toy to her chest. In the next instant, tears streamed down her cheeks, falling onto the charred fabric.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Zachary had simply walked past her and left the room without so much as a backward glance.

…

Melanie clutched the toy and cried through the night.

At dawn, she walked out of the villa, her suitcase in one hand and the battered toy in the other. 

As she made her way to the gate, Yasmin's wheelchair suddenly rolled to a stop in front of her. 

"Move," Melanie croaked.

Yasmin let out a soft chuckle. "What's with the attitude, Mel? Once you're gone, we'll probably never cross paths again. 

"After all, in Dad's and Zachary's eyes, you're a heartless person. There's no way they'll let you come back."

Melanie lifted her gaze and shot back, "Perfect. That's exactly what I want. And since you're dying, there's no chance we'll meet again."

To her surprise, Yasmin burst out laughing. Without warning, she stood up from the wheelchair and began walking toward Melanie. 

"Oh, Melanie… Did you actually believe I was dying? That whole thing was just a show for Zachary. Once I tell him it was all just a misdiagnosis, he'll be thrilled. And here's another secret." 

Yasmin leaned closer, whispering, "Your marriage certificate is fake. I'm Zachary's lawful wife."

She pulled back, scanning Melanie's face for the slightest sign of a reaction—but found nothing.

Melanie tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. Yet, her face remained calm. 

"Well, then. I wish you both happiness."

She then turned and walked toward the gate.

…

As Melanie waited by the roadside for a cab, Zachary's black car pulled up beside her.

He rolled down the window and asked, "Are you leaving?"

Melanie hummed in response.

"Maybe some time apart will do us good. We can talk things through when you're back," Zachary said in a low voice.

Without a word, she got into the cab behind his car.

She then watched his car pull away and muttered, "Zachary, I hope you won't regret this once you learn the truth."

As the cab began to move, Melanie cast one last glance at the villa that held all her love and sorrow. Yet, her eyes gave nothing away.

She turned to the driver and said softly, "To the airport, please."

The two cars drove off in opposite directions. From that moment, their lives diverged for good. 

The day after Melanie left the country, Yasmin wasted no time having the household staff replace every curtain and rug in the house with styles she preferred. 

As Zachary stepped into the house that evening, his eyes narrowed sharply.

Several maids were carrying Melanie's mahogany desk out of her study. Her favorite pen and a stack of books were still resting atop it.

"What are you doing?"

Zachary's voice was cold and cutting. In an instant, the living room fell silent. 

The household staff froze in place. After a brief pause, one of them hurriedly explained, "Mr. Fuller, Ms. Lloyd said this room gets great natural light. She wants to turn it into an art studio."

Zachary's expression darkened. "An art studio? And what if Melanie comes back?" he asked sharply. 

The maids kept their heads down. No one dared to answer. 

For days now, Yasmin had been getting rid of Melanie's belongings. Everyone knew exactly what she was up to. 

The silence hung thick in the air. Then, a soft voic

Chapter 8