Lucas Roscente searched for me like a madman.
He mobilized all his underworld connections, offered a huge reward, even swallowed his pride to cooperate with sworn enemies.
Yet everyone looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. In their eyes, Isabella Evans had always been Lucas's wife.
Seven days later, he stood alone on the shore where we first met.
The setting sun bled across the sky as he collapsed to his knees on the sand, sobbing uncontrollably. "Sophia, I was wrong. Please come back."
Then the tide washed up a glass bottle.
Inside was a yellowed note with my delicate handwriting.
"Lucas, by the time you read this, I'll be gone forever. Not just gone—I never existed at all."
"The System gave me seven days to change your mind. But your actions destroyed my last hope. Goodbye. I hope you and Isabella will be happy."
The note crumbled to ashes in his palm, scattering in the wind.
Lucas lunged toward the ocean like a wild animal, but his men restrained him just in time.
When they dragged him back to shore, his eyes were hollow—as if his soul had been ripped away.
Isabella rushed over upon hearing the news. Seeing his broken state, unease flickered through her.
She still put on her fragile act, approaching timidly. "Lucas, what's wrong? You're scaring me."
His head snapped up. Bloodshot eyes burning with hatred locked onto her. "How dare you show your face?"
Isabella stumbled back, feigning confusion. "Lucas, I don't understand—I'm just worried about you."
"Shut up!" His roar was raw with agony.
"I know everything now. The staged kidnapping. The fake miscarriage to frame Sophia. How could you be so vile?"
Her face drained of color. "Lucas, I—what miscarriage? Who's Sophia?"
He staggered to his feet, advancing on her. "The evidence doesn't lie. All these years, I believed your lies and hurt the woman who truly loved me!"
He shoved her violently.
Isabella fell hard, tears streaming.
But this time, Lucas's gaze held no trace of pity—only endless regret and fury.