Damian's Hamptons villa sat by the coast, surrounded by tall hedges and strict security. But Lydia knew this place intimately—before the betrayal, it was to be their future home.

They arrived in dead night, parking in a secluded forest near the villa. The salty sea breeze made leaves rustle like watching eyes in the darkness.


"Are you sure about this?" Caleb asked one last time before exiting the car, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence.

"That was supposed to be my home," Lydia's voice was emotionless. "I'm just returning early for a look."

She led him to the villa's side, skillfully avoiding surveillance cameras. She remembered a spare key hidden in the greenhouse tool shed. Caleb, with his steady mechanic's hands, picked the old lock in under a minute.


Upon entering, a cold, unfamiliar atmosphere greeted them. Ella's handbag sat casually on the hall table. Lydia's gaze swept over it as if viewing garbage.

Their target: car keys, usually kept in a marble bowl in the entrance hall.


Just as they tiptoed toward the entrance, voices came from upstairs—Damian and Ella.

"Quick, this way!" Lydia reacted swiftly, pulling Caleb into the adjacent study and gently closing the door.

The study was pitch dark except for moonlight filtering through blinds, cutting pale streaks across the floor. They held their breath, pressing against shadows behind the door.

The master bedroom door must have been open—voices filtered through intermittently.

Ella's voice, choked with tears: "Damian, I'm terrified Lydia will come after me... the way she acted at the banquet today, she seemed deranged."

"She's just a madwoman. Why fear her?" Damian's contemptuous chuckle. "Don't worry, baby. She won't be causing trouble much longer."

Lydia's heart sank.

"On our wedding day," Damian's voice carried pleasant cruelty, "I've arranged a special 'party' for her. Since she likes to play games, I'll make sure she gets her fill—and guarantee she'll be silenced for good."

The wedding day... an arranged party...

These words pierced Lydia's eardrums like ice picks. In her mind, the nightmare that had tormented her for months suddenly crystallized with terrible clarity—the abandoned warehouse, faceless men, Damian's cold eyes watching from shadows...

It wasn't an illusion after all.

It was real. The ending he had prepared for her.

Extreme coldness spread from her spine throughout her body. She began shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering, barely suppressing a rising scream. Her world collapsed as reality and nightmare merged.

Just as fear threatened to swallow her, large hands reached from behind, covering her ears with clumsy tenderness.

Her body froze.

Caleb.

He said nothing, just pulled her deeper into his embrace, using his palms to block those hellish whispers. His body formed a wall—solid and warm—shielding her from the world's cold malice.

Through his thick palms, she still heard her heart pounding and muffled, demonic whispers. But somehow, those large hands became the only tangible warmth in endless darkness and fear.

After what seemed like eternity, the voices finally ceased.

Caleb slowly released his hands.

In darkness, he saw Lydia's face cold and wet, her eyes hollow like a soulless doll's.

He asked nothing, just draped his jacket over her trembling shoulders. Then he took her hand and silently led her from the study.

In the key bowl, the Cherry Red Mustang keychain lay quietly.

Caleb grabbed it, clutched it tightly, then took the dazed Lydia's hand and quickly left the tomb-like mansion.

When the red sports car started, its engine's roar in the quiet night sounded like the heartbeat of a catastrophe survivor.

Caleb drove while Lydia curled in the passenger seat, wrapped tightly in his coat, silent.

The car left the Hamptons for New York. Dawn broke on the horizon, but Lydia's world remained in boundless darkness.