99 Chances to Lose You

Early in the morning, I saw Zara again. She kept showing off the red marks on her neck, which made my eyes hurt.

Ignoring her smug look, I went straight to the airport and flew back to Rivermount.

As soon as I got home, my assistant had already delivered Samuel's gifts—a 14th-century sapphire-blue glazed vase adorned with white lion motifs, and a 17th-century oil painting titled "The Lone Bird" by a renowned painter—each piece was extremely valuable.

Samuel had even left a note. The first gift was compensation for forcing me to terminate my pregnancy, the second for making me bless their bed.

The housekeepers looked at me with envy again. "Ms. Wagner, you're so lucky. Mr. Blanton treats you like royalty every day."

But they didn't know that every gift was just Samuel trying to make up for the ways he'd hurt me.

I put everything on the display shelves in the study, marking them as number 96 and 97. Looking around the room, only two spots were left empty. I knew the day I left wouldn't be far off.

Holding my appointment slip, I went to the hospital and had the procedure done. After leaving the embryo to be handled by the nurse, I went home, weak and guilty, and began packing.

Almost everything I had belonged to Samuel, so there wasn't much to take. The most important thing that I had to take was my parents' crystal keepsake from my bedroom. I was too young when I was kidnapped, so their faces had long faded from my memory. I only remembered their names, which I engraved onto a crystal keepsake, guided by Samuel.

They were a source of comfort, a reminder that I had parents who loved me. Even if Samuel abandoned me one day, my parents would still be with me.

I had just walked in when I realized Samuel had come home. He saw me and almost acted as if I was his savior, rushing me to help pack his bags. In these little day-to-day chores, he leaned on me completely, as if I was his wife.

But today, he seemed uneasy, as if he was hiding something.

Passing by my bedroom, I heard strange noises. Something felt off, so I flung open the door, and my brain went blank when I saw what was inside.

My parents' crystal keepsake had shattered into pieces, scattered all over the floor! Meanwhile, Zara and the housekeeper were trying to erase all evidence.

"Get away! Don't touch my parents!" I shoved everyone back and crouched over the pieces, tears streaming.

Zara's voice floated in, calm as ever. "Sorry, Ophelia. I came into your room to look around and accidentally knocked the crystal ornament off the table. I'm sorry I broke it. But honestly, it was so poorly made, and the writing was ugly. It needed replacing anyway. I'll hire a better craftsman and make you a new one. That'll make you happy, right?"

I screamed at her, "I don't want your stupid replacement!"

Samuel frowned and stepped forward, grabbing my arm. "Ophelia! Don't make a big deal out of this. You didn't even pay your parents back for giving birth to you. Now that they're dead, it's not like they would care. Zara's just trying to help. Why are you lashing out?"

I looked at him, shocked. "Don't you know why I didn't get to pay my parents back?"

Because I had been kidnapped, my parents had sold off everything and worked day and night to find me. The day of the accident, they'd gotten a lead and driven recklessly, trying to reach me. That was how they died. Their deaths were a lifelong wound.

Samuel saved me, sure. But I never expected him to hurt me with such precision.

Samuel paused, and just when I thought he'd understand, he said, "Ophelia, stop it. I'll engrave a new one with you later."

Zara pretended to cry, acting guilty. "Honey, it's my fault. I'm so clumsy. I shouldn't have touched it. I feel so bad! If it hurts the bond between you two, I-I couldn't live with it."

She really was clumsy—but intentionally. She knew my parents were my weak spot. And Samuel would always side with her, no matter what.

As usual, Samuel held her in his arms and whispered softly, "It was just a trinket. I don't blame you. I'll clean it up and get rid of it so you won't have to look at it anymore. Don't blame yourself."

Zara looked at me, choking back tears. "But Ophelia…"

"She's just a kid. A little soothing, and she'll forget about it."

"Get out!" I screamed, powerless with rage, and shoved them both out of the room. "I don't want to see you!"

I slammed the door, and silence swallowed me. I sat among the shards of the crystal keepsake and cried until I had nothing left. Maybe my parents were up in heaven, telling me it was time to end the debt, to stop trapping myself in this cage.

Once my tears dried, I gathered the broken crystals into a box. On the back of the hospital procedure sheet, I wrote, [No. 98].

I didn't notice when the door opened, and Samuel's voice came from behind, a little uneasy. "What does that mean, number 98?"

He reached for the paper.