After I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, I didn’t tell Ethan. I let him shove me into the mud in front of the tombstone, forcing me to my knees to confess. “Stella, your life belongs to Chloe now.” The heavy rain lashed down, cold to the bone, but it was nothing compared to the icy hatred in his eyes. I wanted to say that it was Chloe, his sister, who had fought to push me into the ventilation shaft that day. But I opened my mouth, only to swallow a mouthful of blood. Three years. He wouldn’t believe me. “Speak!” Ethan gripped my chin, his eyes bloodshot. “Tell Chloe how you locked her in that burning building!” I looked at his face, contorted with hatred, and suddenly laughed. “Ethan, if I told you I was dying, would you finally stop hating me?” The cramping in my stomach seized me again. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, splashing onto his polished dress shoes. He froze. And I, finally collapsed at his feet. Stella POV “Ms. Davis, the test results are in. Late-stage stomach cancer, with peritoneal metastasis…” The doctor adjusted his glasses, his tone heavy. “Given your current physical condition, surgery won’t do much good. With conservative treatment, you probably have about three months.” I sat in the chair, staring at the thin diagnostic report, my eyes blank for a moment. “Three months, huh…” I murmured, no tears in my dry eyes. Instead, a faint smile touched my lips. “That’s good.” It was enough. Three months was enough time for me to pay back every debt I owed Ethan. Stepping out of the hospital, a cold autumn rain was falling. I didn’t open my umbrella, letting the icy water hit me. The biting chill seeped into every pore, but it couldn’t compare to the agonizing pain in my stomach, like a thousand ants gnawing at me. I forced myself to suppress the spasms and took a cab back to the mansion on Long Island. Pushing open the heavy, carved front door, the living room lights were off. In the dimness, a red cigarette tip glowed erratically on the sofa. I was drenched, raindrops trailing down my pale cheeks and splashing onto the floor. I changed my shoes, and just as I was about to head upstairs, his deep, cold voice cut through the darkness. “Come here.” I paused, then turned and slowly walked towards the sofa. Billionaire Ethan Smith sat in the shadows, his long legs crossed. His intense eyes were hidden behind wisps of smoke, exuding a frightening pressure. He casually slammed a thick stack of documents onto the coffee table with a sharp thwack, a jarring sound in the dead silence of the living room. “Look at these,” he said simply, directly, his voice devoid of warmth. I bent down, my hands trembling as I picked up the documents. In the faint glow of the streetlights outside the window, I made out the title on the cover—Chloe Smith Memorial Hall Design Proposal. My heart clenched, my fingertips instantly turning to ice. Chloe. Chloe Smith. Ethan’s most beloved sister, and my once best friend. Three years ago, Chloe and I were kidnapped and held in an abandoned underground theater in the New York suburbs. The kidnappers, in a fit of rage, set the place on fire. The flames spread rapidly, thick smoke billowing everywhere. There was only one disused ventilation shaft we could crawl through, but it was too narrow for more than one person. Chloe pressed the only wet towel over my mouth and, with all her strength, shoved me into the shaft. She herself was hit by a falling wooden beam, trapped forever in that inferno. By the time I returned with the rescue team, the theater was a pile of ashes. But the evidence left behind, and a recording deliberately fabricated by the kidnappers, all pointed to one “fact”—that I had selfishly snatched the wet towel, locked Chloe in the fire, and escaped alone to save my own life. Ethan believed it. From that day on, the man who had doted on me ceased to exist. In his place was a devil, crawled from hell, vowing to torment me to death. “You’re building a memorial hall?” My voice was terribly hoarse, like sandpaper scraping across a table. “You’re a top architect. Chloe loved your work when she was alive.” Ethan leaned forward, gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his cold, dark eyes. “You will design this memorial hall.” I was forced to tilt my head back, my chin aching. “Okay, I’ll do it.” “Don’t agree so fast.” Ethan sneered, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I want you to completely recreate that underground theater. The temperature, the smoke, the sense of despair when Chloe was burned to death—I want you to reproduce every detail exactly!” My pupils constricted, my blood seeming to freeze instantly. Recreate that inferno? That was the terrifying scene I dreamt about every single night for the past three years!
Stella POV “What’s wrong? Scared?” Ethan watched my pale face, the curve of his lips growing more mocking. “You weren’t scared when you crawled out over her corpse, were you? Stella, your life is Chloe’s. Am I asking too much by having you draw a few blueprints?” “I’m not asking too much,” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I stared directly into Ethan’s eyes, speaking each word slowly. “I’ll draw them.” Ethan violently shoved me away, then took out a handkerchief with a look of disgust, wiping his hands as if he’d touched something filthy. “Move to the basement tomorrow. You’ll work there until the memorial hall is built.” He stood up, looking down at me. “Don’t even think about playing tricks. Your father’s medical bills are still in my hands.” I slumped onto the carpet, the sharp pain in my stomach returning. I clutched my abdomen, a cold sweat instantly soaking my back. “I understand,” I whispered, my voice so soft it could be carried away by a breeze. Ethan watched my quiet suffering, an unidentifiable rage seeming to surge within him. He scoffed and strode out of the mansion. The heavy door slammed shut. I finally couldn’t hold myself together, collapsing onto the carpet, shaking all over with pain. I hadn’t told Ethan that my father had passed away in the hospital half a month ago. Now, I was truly alone. The next morning, bodyguards forcibly took me to the mansion’s basement. The moment the door opened, my breath hitched. This was no office. Ethan had ordered the entire basement to be transformed into a replica of that abandoned theater. Charred walls, scattered rebar, and even the air was thick with a pungent smell of burning. In the center of the room, there was a crude drafting table. “Mr. Smith instructed that to inspire your creativity, the environmental simulation system will be activated during work hours every day,” the bodyguard said expressionlessly before stepping out. The heavy iron door clanged shut, locking me in. The next second, red lights flickered on around the basement, like leaping flames. Hidden heaters in the corners began to churn furiously, the room temperature visibly rising. Then, gray-white smoke started pouring in from the vents. I froze, the memories of three years ago washing over me like a tsunami. “Stella, go! Don’t worry about me!” “Live! Live for me, see the world outside!” Chloe’s desperate, tragic cries echoed in my ears. “Chloe…” I covered my ears, shaking uncontrollably. The temperature climbed higher, the smoke grew thicker. My breathing became labored. I stumbled to the drafting table, forcing myself to pick up a pencil. I had to draw. Only then would Ethan let me go. But the tumor in my stomach chose that moment to act up. The excruciating pain, as if my insides were being twisted to shreds, made it impossible to hold the pencil. With a clatter, it dropped to the floor. My legs gave out, and I fell hard onto the concrete. “Cough, cough, cough…” I coughed violently, the inhaled smoke burning my lungs. I wondered if Ethan was currently sitting in front of a monitor, staring intently at my huddled form. Perhaps he was smoking, gritting his teeth, wishing I would beg for mercy. He surely thought that if I just bowed my head to the camera, begged for his forgiveness, admitted I had killed Chloe, he would let me out. But I didn’t. I writhed on the floor in pain, cold sweat and dust smearing my face, but I bit down hard, not making a single sound of distress. I even struggled to my feet, fumbled for the pencil again, and hunched over the table, beginning to draw lines, one stroke at a time. “Bang!” The iron door to the basement was suddenly kicked open. A wave of heat and thick smoke rushed in. Ethan stormed inside, grabbed my collar, and lifted me from the chair. “Are you mute?! Don’t you know how to scream when you’re in pain?!” His eyes were bloodshot as he roared at me.
Stella POV I was forced to look up, my pale face covered in cold sweat, a trickle of blood even escaping my lip. I looked at Ethan’s furious face, and a very weak smile suddenly touched my lips. “Ethan, this heat… it’s not even a fraction of what Chloe endured,” my voice was hoarse, every word laced with the taste of blood. “I deserve this.” Ethan’s whole body stiffened. He stared at my lifeless eyes, an unprecedented panic seemingly welling up inside him. I didn’t resist, didn’t explain. I was like a rapidly decaying husk, ready to scatter with the wind at any moment. “You think I’ll go soft if you pretend to be half-dead?” Ethan gritted his teeth, then violently shoved me to the floor. “Stella, you can never repay what you owe Chloe in this lifetime! Keep drawing! If you don’t finish, you won’t eat today!” With that, he turned and strode away, his retreating figure carrying a hint of desperation. The iron door slammed shut again. I lay on the floor, staring at the pool of blood I had just coughed up, my eyes terrifyingly calm. I roughly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve and crawled back to the table. Soon. Just a little longer, and it would all be over. … The torment in the basement continued for a full week. I was halfway through the blueprints, and my body had already wasted away. My once-fitting clothes now hung loosely on me, as if a gust of wind could blow me over. That evening, the iron door suddenly opened. Ethan walked in, tossing a delicate gift box at me. “Change, you’re coming with me.” I didn’t ask where. I mechanically opened the box; inside was a black evening gown. Half an hour later, I followed Ethan into a Maybach. The car finally stopped in front of New York’s most luxurious private club. A high-profile charity gala was being held there tonight, attended by prominent figures. Ethan didn’t wait for me; he got out directly. I took a deep breath, suppressing the severe pain in my stomach, and followed him in my high heels. The moment I entered the banquet hall, the noisy venue instantly fell silent. Countless eyes fell on me, filled with undisguised contempt, dislike, and mocking curiosity. In this circle, who didn’t know I was a wicked woman who had killed her friend to save her own life? Who didn’t know I was now just a pathetic plaything by Ethan’s side? “How does she even have the nerve to show her face?” “Ethan’s ruthless, bringing his enemy along to torment her daily. If it were me, I’d have killed her ages ago.” “I heard she’s designing Chloe’s memorial hall. Tsk, tsk, the killer building a memorial hall—how ironic.” The hushed whispers were like poisoned needles, pricking my ears. I lowered my head, my hands clutching my dress, my nails almost digging into my flesh. Ethan stood not far away, a glass of red wine in hand, watching with cold eyes. He had brought me here precisely to endure this. It was my deserved punishment. Just then, a young man in a floral shirt walked over, holding a cup. It was Caleb Montgomery, a rich heir from the wealthy Montgomery family. He had once fiercely pursued Chloe. “Well, well, if it isn’t Stella, the great designer?” Caleb scrutinized me, his eyes cold. “So, you killed Chloe. Don’t you have nightmares when you sleep?” I didn’t speak, just took a step back. “Why are you hiding?” Caleb sneered, then suddenly flung the piping hot coffee in his hand directly at my right hand! “Ah!” I wasn’t prepared. The scalding coffee instantly reddened the back of my hand, and the piercing pain made me cry out. My right hand was my drawing hand! “Oops, so sorry, my hand slipped.” Caleb offered a insincere smile, then his eyes turned vicious. “But that hand, stained with Chloe’s blood, deserves to be crippled anyway!” With that, he actually raised his foot and stomped hard on my scalded right hand!
Stella POV I cried out in pain and stumbled to the floor, unable to dodge in time. Just as Caleb’s dress shoe was about to land on the back of my hand, a large hand violently grabbed Caleb’s collar, sending him flying! “Bang!” Caleb crashed heavily into the champagne tower, sending glass shattering everywhere. The entire hall fell silent. Ethan stood in front of me, radiating terrifying rage. He looked down at Caleb on the floor, his voice as cold as an icy blade. “Who the hell do you think you are, laying a hand on what’s mine?” Caleb scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth. “Ethan! She killed Chloe! I’m avenging Chloe!” “Avenging?” Ethan sneered, taking slow steps towards Caleb. “She owes Chloe a life, and only I can collect that debt. When did it become your place to discipline what’s mine?” He turned, casting a cold glance at me, still sprawled on the floor. “Aren’t you getting up? Are you trying to make an even bigger spectacle of yourself?” I bit down hard on my lip, enduring the burning pain on the back of my hand, and slowly pushed myself up against the wall. I kept my head down, looking at my swollen, blistered right hand, a flicker of despair in my eyes. Ethan protected me, not out of concern. It was only because I was his personal torment. No one else was even qualified to inflict pain on me. “Let’s go.” Ethan grabbed my uninjured left wrist and strode out. I stumbled after him, the cramping in my stomach reaching its peak. Just as we stepped out of the banquet hall doors, my vision blurred, and I collapsed forward. I was roused by a violent shaking. Opening my eyes, I found myself back in the living room of the Long Island mansion. Ethan was gripping my shoulders, his face terrifyingly grim. “How many more times will you play the fainting game?” Ethan let go abruptly when he saw I was awake, tossing me onto the sofa. I didn’t argue. I was in too much pain. My stomach felt like countless knives were twisting inside. Cold sweat soaked my clothes. I curled up on the sofa, pressing both hands against my abdomen, my breathing rapid and shallow. “My… my bag…” I choked out a few words, my eyes searching for my purse, which had been tossed onto the coffee table. It held the powerful painkillers the doctor had prescribed. Without them, I would die of pain tonight. I struggled to reach out, trying to grab the bag. But Ethan moved faster, picking it up. “Looking for something?” He looked at me coldly, then directly emptied the contents of the bag onto the coffee table. Lipstick, tissues, keys, and a plain white plastic bottle with no label. My pupils constricted. I lunged forward, trying to snatch the bottle. “Give it back!” Ethan deftly evaded me, holding the bottle high. He watched my panicked, almost frantic expression, his brows furrowing. “What is this?” He twisted open the cap and shook out a few white pills. “They’re… they’re sleeping pills,” I bit down hard, lying. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately…” I couldn’t let him know I had stomach cancer. If he found out, he would surely think I was using my illness to gain sympathy. He might even stop my medication, leaving me to die in agony while fully conscious. “Sleeping pills?” Ethan sneered, his eyes instantly turning cruel. “Stella, you killed Chloe, and you still expect to get a good night’s sleep? Dream on!” He took the pill bottle, strode into the bathroom, and in front of me, emptied the entire bottle of life-saving painkillers down the toilet. “Whoosh—” The flush sounded, and the white pills instantly vanished in the swirling water. “No!” I screamed in despair. I rushed to the toilet, trying to reach in, but found nothing. That was the last bottle of medicine!
Stella POV “Want to sleep? Want to escape?” Ethan grabbed my hair, dragging me back to the living room and roughly shoving me in front of the coffee table. “Tonight, you’ll stay here and finish Chloe’s memorial hall blueprints! If they’re not done, you’re not going anywhere!” He threw a stack of blank blueprints and pencils in front of me. I slumped to the floor, the intense stomach pain engulfing me like a tsunami. I was shaking all over, my breathing heavy and tasting of blood. “My… my hand is burned…” I lifted my swollen, blistered right hand, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “I can’t hold the pencil…” “Hold it even if you can’t!” Ethan didn’t even glance at my hand, his voice devoid of warmth. “Stella, don’t make me use uglier methods.” I looked at the cold, ruthless man before me, the light in my eyes dimming bit by bit. I stopped speaking and silently picked up the pencil. The moment I exerted force with my right hand, the scalded blisters burst. A sharp, piercing pain made me gasp. I bit down hard, gripping the pencil tightly, and hunched over the coffee table, beginning to draw. Large drops of cold sweat splattered onto the blueprints, smearing the pencil lines. The cramping in my stomach made me pause for a long time to catch my breath after every stroke. Ethan sat on the sofa, watching me with cold eyes. He watched my trembling shoulders, my pale face, the blood from my right hand staining the white blueprints. He seemed to think it was all my fault, that having killed Chloe, this suffering was nothing. I could even feel his growing irritation. The entire night. I finished the last blueprint in this extreme agony. When the first ray of morning sun streamed into the living room, I finally put down the pencil. “It’s done,” I whispered weakly, collapsing onto the carpet like a broken rag doll. Ethan walked over, picked up the stack of blueprints stained with blood and sweat, and quickly glanced at them. They were perfectly drawn. A perfect recreation of that desperate underground theater. He looked at me, lying there half-dead, and seemed to grow even more irritated. “Get up,” he nudged my leg. “Today is Chloe’s death anniversary.” I closed my eyes, unmoving. I no longer had the strength to even open them. “I told you to get up!” Ethan bent down, roughly hauling me off the floor. “You’re coming with me.” The mountain road was winding, with many sharp turns. This was the most dangerous road on the outskirts of New York, with steep cliffs on one side and a bottomless abyss on the other. Ethan parked the black sports car at the starting point. He shoved me into the driver’s seat and got into the passenger seat himself. “Chloe was in that fire, watching the flames consume her little by little. You can’t imagine that fear of waiting for death,” Ethan turned his head, looking at my paper-pale face, a twisted, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Today, I’m going to let you experience what it’s like to be one step away from death.” He pointed at the winding, unguarded cliff road ahead. “Hit the gas. Don’t go below seventy miles per hour. Drive to the summit.” My hands on the steering wheel were shaking violently. The stomach pain had clouded my mind, and my vision was blurring. In this state, driving seventy miles per hour along a cliff edge was suicide. “Ethan…” I turned to look at him. “We’ll die.” “Scared?” Ethan’s eyes were full of mockery and the thrill of revenge. “Good. Chloe was a thousand, a million times more terrified than you are now!” “Drive!” he roared.
Stella POV I looked into his hateful eyes and suddenly grew quiet. I turned my head, staring at the bottomless cliff ahead. Die? Actually, I should have died long ago. If it had been me who died in that fire three years ago, wouldn’t I have been spared these three years of excruciating pain? Wouldn’t Ethan have turned into this monster? Anyway, I only had three months left. Might as well be today. A faint, relieved smile suddenly played on my lips. I no longer hesitated, and floored the gas pedal! “Vroom—!” The sports car roared like a beast, shooting forward like an arrow! The needle on the speedometer climbed frantically. Sixty, seventy, ninety, one hundred and ten! The car sped wildly along the narrow mountain road, tires screeching against the pavement. With every turn, the wheels almost scraped the edge of the cliff; one wrong move and we’d plummet. Ethan had originally just wanted to scare me, to see me cry and beg for mercy. But he saw no fear on my face. I stared intently ahead, my eyes hollow and resolute. My foot on the gas didn’t ease up; instead, I pressed down even harder! Ahead was a sharp, almost ninety-degree turn, beyond which lay a sheer drop into the abyss! “Slow down!” Ethan yelled, a hint of fear in his voice. I ignored him. The speed was already nearing one hundred and twenty! “Stella! I said hit the brakes!” Ethan finally panicked. He lunged, trying to grab the steering wheel. But it was too fast. The car had already reached the edge of the curve, half of it suspended in the air by the sheer force! “Go to hell, Ethan.” I whispered, closing my eyes. Just as the car was about to plunge off the cliff, in that incredibly dangerous moment, Ethan exploded with astonishing strength. He violently wrenched the steering wheel to the left, simultaneously stomping hard on my foot on the gas, forcefully slamming on the brakes! “Bang—!” The sports car spun violently in place, its rear end smashing into the mountain wall with a deafening crash. The airbags instantly deployed. The car cabin filled with the pungent smell of burning rubber and white smoke. Silence. A deathly silence. Ethan gasped for air, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat soaking his shirt. His hands were still trembling violently. He must have thought I was insane, that I really wanted to take him with me to die. He violently turned, tore away the airbag, and gripped my neck, his eyes so red they seemed to drip blood. “Stella! Are you out of your mind?! You want to die?!” I gasped for air under his grip, a sickly flush appearing on my pale face. I didn’t struggle, just quietly looked at him. My once bright eyes now held only a dead ash. “Yes,” I struggled to manage a twisted smile, my voice broken. “I haven’t wanted to live for a long time. Ethan, you wanted my life, didn’t you? I gave it to you, so why did you stop me?” Ethan stared at my lifeless expression, his heart feeling as if it had been cruelly ripped open, stopping his breath with pain. He abruptly let go, looking at me as if I were a monster. “You want to die?” He gritted his teeth, his voice tinged with a fear he didn’t even realize. “You haven’t repaid what you owe Chloe. You have no right to die! Without my permission, you don’t even have the right to die!” I leaned back against the seat, and suddenly began to laugh softly. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. “Ethan, you can’t keep me.” I looked at the cliff outside the window, my voice as light as a sigh. “I’m just so tired.”
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