I don't believe there is no parting sorrow in the world
Violet and Vincent’s daughter, Sophie, had been diagnosed with a severe heart condition. Only an organ transplant could save her.
Desperate, Vincent brought home his “godsister”—and her son.
“Violet,” he explained, “Nancy’s boy was born with a congenital heart defect. He doesn’t have long. She’s agreed to let Charles and Sophie… swap hearts.”
“Her only wish is for me to act as Charles’s father—to give him some happiness in his final days.”
For her daughter’s sake, Violet agreed to a pretend divorce.
Soon after, Vincent held a lavish wedding with his first love, Nancy, and they became the picture of a devoted couple.
Not long after that, Sophie and Charles were wheeled into the operating room together.
In the end, Sophie didn’t survive the rejection period. Charles, however, miraculously pulled through.
Violet had believed it was fate—that she couldn’t blame anyone.
Until an anonymous letter arrived, containing all of Sophie’s medical records.
Her daughter had never been sick at all!
The one who needed the transplant was Charles!
Violet’s world shattered.
In the end, the divorce was real.
It was his love that had been the sham.
She needed answers—now.
Clutching the medical report, Violet rushed straight to Vincent’s company.
On the way, she called her mother, Piper, and told her everything.
She expected shared grief and fury, but the other end of the line fell into an unusual silence.
“Mom?” Violet asked, confused. “Are you okay?”
Her mother’s voice came through, eerily calm: *“Violet, where are you right now?”*
Violet should have sensed something wrong, but her mind was chaos. She answered without thinking.
*“Don’t do anything rash. Wait right there.”*
Violet thought her mother was coming to confront Vincent with her. Trying to calm herself, she went to wait at the designated intersection, just as asked.
Her mother never came.
Instead, several burly men appeared. They grabbed her, dragged her, shoved her into a car.
They locked her in a dark, damp basement.
For seven whole days, they tormented her in every way imaginable.
The beatings, the denial of food and water—those were the gentler methods.
They deliberately deprived her of sleep.
Whenever she was on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, someone would bring an electric prod and shock her back to agonizing consciousness.
The pain was unbearable. If not for the hatred burning inside her, she would never have survived until the day she was rescued.
When Vincent finally broke down the door and swept her into his arms,
a pathetic flicker of gratitude stirred in Violet’s heart, softening it against her will.
She felt the warmth of his embrace, and a flood of memories washed over her.
They’d grown up together, from school uniforms to wedding gowns.
He knew her likes and dislikes, remembered her favorite foods, was familiar with every private detail.
For her, he’d lit up half the city with fireworks, planted an entire estate with tulips, slid a diamond engagement ring onto her finger under the Northern Lights…
She had never once imagined he could stop loving her.
Could it be… he had some unavoidable, desperate reason?
Violet wanted to give Vincent a chance to explain.
But her head was splitting with pain, and she was so weak she couldn’t even lift a finger.
Though Vincent called her name again and again, she couldn’t muster a response.
Then she heard his voice turn cold:
“She’s unconscious. Take her to the mental institution now. Get a psychiatric evaluation done in front of the press, then release a statement: kidnapped, suffered irreversible psychological trauma.”
In that instant, Violet’s heart nearly stopped.
The hand Vincent had placed on her arm suddenly felt like a block of ice.
His assistant’s voice chimed in: “Sir, today’s evaluation report is already arranged. But if the… if Mrs Vincent’s mental state is actually fine, and she goes for other tests later, won’t the truth come out?”
Vincent replied lightly, “Then continue the electroshock. Use some drug stimulation too. She was pampered since childhood; she couldn’t possibly have that strong a will.”
His fingers gradually tightened, pressing into Violet’s wounds:
“She’s always been willful, and she cared about Sophie more than anything. Now that she knows the truth about the heart swap, she’ll never let it go.”
“I’m doing this to protect Nancy and Charles.”
“As long as she’s declared mentally unstable, no one will believe anything she says. No matter what.”
“Go inform Violet’s mother as well. Tell her to focus on taking care of Violet these next few days and not contact Nancy’s side. If Violet finds out Nancy is her parents’ real biological daughter, I’m afraid she might take her own life.”
Every word from Vincent was a dagger, brutally hammered into Violet’s mind.
So that was it!
Not only had her lover abandoned her—her own flesh and blood had too!
The pain was so intense Violet felt she was going mad.
In comparison, the seven days of elect
For all the years they had loved each other, Violet had kept only one thing from Vincent.
It happened the year they graduated university. She had accompanied him on a business trip abroad when they ran headlong into a local armed uprising.
Taking a shortcut back to the hotel, Violet found and rescued an injured man of Chinese descent.
Vincent was trapped at their partner’s company at the time, completely unaware she had brought a stranger back and cared for him for two days.
Before leaving, the man insisted Violet memorize his phone number, telling her to call if she ever needed anything.
She hadn’t thought much of it and never mentioned the strange encounter to Vincent.
It was only later, catching sight of the man’s face on an international news broadcast, that she learned the truth: he was the chieftain of a notoriously fierce tribe that controlled a nation’s oil lifeline.
The moment she realized who he was, Violet shuddered inwardly, wanting nothing more to do with him.
But now, the only thing she could cling to was that number he had forced her to memorize, forwards and backwards.
It was her last lifeline.
Her head throbbed as if packed with needles, yet Violet didn’t dare stop thinking.
She had to find a way to contact him—and quickly.
The ambulance drove straight to the hospital, where a cursory exam was performed before she was transferred overnight to a mental institution.
Violet was aware of everything.
Still, she kept her eyes tightly shut, feigning unconsciousness.
And so, she heard Vincent’s ruthlessness with her own ears once more.
“How long before Violet wakes up? I’ve arranged for the media to film her mental breakdown. If she keeps sleeping, the next steps can’t proceed.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Vincent. Miss Violet’s condition is due to a sudden relaxation after extreme stress. It’s normal for her to sleep longer, but it won’t exceed forty-eight hours.”
“But can you guarantee she’ll act insane when she wakes? What if the reporters arrive and she’s completely normal?”
That sickly-sweet voice—Violet recognized it instantly. It was Nancy, Vincent’s first love and now his wife.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Vincent. We’ll administer a nerve-stimulating drug beforehand. Even if she wakes, she’ll be confused. With all those reporters there, she’ll certainly panic.”
“But I still feel uneasy…” Nancy whined. “Honey, what if she doesn’t break down?”
Vincent answered without hesitation.
“She will.”
“Violet was nearly raped in middle school. Ever since, she’s had an intense aversion to any man besides me.”
“Director Chen, arrange for someone to forcibly wake her through physical contact. I guarantee she’ll lose control.”
Nancy giggled. “Oh, right! I’d forgotten that. You’re so clever, honey. But… that means my dear sister will be taken advantage of by another man. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Vincent’s voice dripped with indulgence. “I can’t let you and Charles take any risk. Besides, if she hadn’t stolen your life by occupying your rightful place, that gambler from the Nancy family would have sold her off to a casino long ago.”
“Honey~”
The next sound to pierce Violet’s ears was the wet, smacking noise of a kiss.
In that moment, she wished desperately she had lost consciousness—that she had heard none of it.
Yet she was also profoundly grateful. Had she been asleep, how would she ever have learned the truth?
She didn’t dare sleep again.
Even as every blood vessel in her brain screamed.
She gritted her teeth and endured.
She knew Vincent. If he said it, he would do it.
Even if the one at the other end of his blade was the person he had once sworn to cherish for a lifetime.
Vincent had no patience for waiting. After just half a day, the man he had arranged stepped into Violet’s hospital room.
