He Went to Hell for Me, But I Let Him Go

Without another word, Lucas grabbed Celia’s arm and dragged her back to the dining table, firmly seating her in a chair before returning to Yvonne’s side.

Celia glanced up at him, watching as he tenderly soothed Yvonne. When he noticed her gaze, he turned to glare at her, a silent warning in his eyes.

Swallowing her bitterness, Celia picked up her plate and, despite the searing pain in her stomach, forced herself to eat every bite.

Tears fell silently onto her plate as she lowered her head. Each mouthful felt like swallowing fire, the burning sensation crawling down her throat and mingling with the salty sting of her tears. She couldn’t tell which hurt more—her stomach or her heart.

The meal dragged on in strained silence, with Celia enduring her agony while Lucas and Yvonne shared their intimate exchanges.

Finally, it was over.

Just as Celia set down her utensils, the sound of a car pulling up outside broke the tension.

“That must be my things arriving!” Yvonne exclaimed with a bright smile as she rushed toward the door.

Lucas turned to Celia, his tone flat but firm. “From now on, Yvonne will be living here with us.”

He watched her closely as if expecting an outburst or a refusal. His expression seemed to say he wouldn’t tolerate any objection.

But Celia, who had already cried herself dry earlier, had long since calmed herself down. She nodded calmly. “I understand.”

Her composed reaction took Lucas by surprise, leaving him unsettled. A strange unease crept into his chest, but before he could dwell on it, Yvonne returned, naturally slipping her arm through his.

“Lucas, which room will I be staying in?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Lucas offered her a doting smile. “Let me show you around. You can choose any room you like.”

The three of them went upstairs, accompanying Yvonne as she picked a room. After asking where Lucas’ bedroom was, she walked straight toward the room next to his.

Watching her head toward that direction, Celia felt a sudden sense of foreboding and hurried after her.

When she stepped into the room, she saw Yvonne looking around before heading straight to the wardrobe.

“Lucas, I think this room is perfect. I’ll take it,” Yvonne announced, her hand reaching for the wardrobe door.

Panicked, Celia rushed forward, blocking her movement before she could open it.

“No! This is my room. I won’t allow it.”

Seeing Celia’s intense reaction, Lucas frowned instinctively and scolded her. “What’s with this reckless behavior? If Yvonne likes this room, just let her have it. I’ll have the staff clean out another room for you.”

But no matter what he said, Celia stayed put, her back pressed firmly against the wardrobe, refusing to give in.

Frustration flashed across Lucas’ face as he forced himself to suppress his growing anger. “I swear, I’ve spoiled you so much you’ve forgotten your place!”

The tension between them grew, neither willing to budge until Yvonne finally intervened to diffuse the situation. “It’s alright, Lucas. If Celia doesn’t want to give it up, I’ll just choose another room.”

Lucas glanced at Celia, still stubbornly guarding the wardrobe, and let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fine. If she won’t give it up, then you can just stay with me.”

Hearing that, Yvonne blushed and shyly buried her face against his chest. Without another word, Lucas wrapped an arm around her and led her out of the room.

As they left, Celia caught a glimpse of Yvonne glancing down at her hand, puzzled. “That’s strange. There’s blood on my hand, but I don’t think I’m hurt…”

Moments later, Lucas ordered the staff to move Yvonne’s belongings into his room. The house buzzed with activity as staff members carried luggage back and forth, but Celia paid no attention. Her hands trembled as she quickly shut the wardrobe door again.

Only Celia knew where the blood on Yvonne’s hand had come from— it was from the wardrobe.

Inside the wardrobe was her own lifeless body.

Celia locked the door to her room and pulled out a roll of duct tape, securing the wardrobe tightly shut. The King of the Underworld had warned her: if her body was discovered before her seven days were up, she would vanish prematurely.

Once everything was sealed, she let out a shaky breath and went to the living room to pour herself a glass of water.

On her way back, she passed Lucas’ room. Through the slightly ajar door, she glimpsed Lucas and Yvonne locked in a passionate kiss.

She froze for a moment, her grip tightening around the glass. Closing her eyes, she turned away, unwilling to look any longer.

Walking straight to the calendar on the wall, she tore off another page of the countdown.