Your Love Once Burned Fiery

Eleanor sobbed in anguish, so overwhelmed with emotion that she nearly dropped to her knees in front of me.

My father yanked Eleanor back and shielded her behind him.

"Don't beg her. She's the one who owes you. She should be the one asking for your forgiveness. Chloe, if you have even a shred of conscience left, you should apologize to Eleanor."

My parents' deep‑seated hatred for me—their open favoritism toward their biological daughter—was something I had long grown used to.

But Jonathan… the man who once claimed to love me, who said every decision he made was for our future, now stood on the opposite side. He said nothing. His eyes were filled only with disappointment.

We had grown up together. We had known each other since our youth. He knew exactly what kind of person I was.

Yet in the face of Eleanor's flimsy, contradiction‑ridden accusations, he didn't even bother to check the house surveillance. Because from the very beginning, he believed I was wrong.

The realization sent a sharp pain ripping through my chest.

"I didn't do anything," I said. "I won't apologize."

My father slammed his hand down on the table in fury. Then he called in two bodyguards from outside and had me forced to the floor.

I struggled and screamed. The wound on my back tore open with every movement, pain ripping through me like a blade. The sutures burst. Blood streamed down my arms and pooled on the ground.

My gaze swept past Jonathan's face. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight.

As my head was forced down for the first time, my thoughts blurred, drifting back to the day the Sterling family officially brought Eleanor home.

Snow had been falling heavily. The air was bitterly cold. Wearing only thin clothes, I had been thrown out of the house by my parents.

It was Jonathan who took off his coat and wrapped it around me. It was Jonathan who carried my devastated body back to his home.

And it was Jonathan who said to me, "Chloe, even if the whole world abandons you, as long as you still have me, that's enough. I will never abandon you."

My head was forced down for the second time. The pain left my consciousness wavering.

I seemed to see the day he defied his parents for me—kneeling in the courtyard under the scorching sun, shouting, "The only woman I will ever marry is Chloe. I want no one else."

In the end, he collapsed from heatstroke and was rushed to the hospital. Looking at Jonathan, his skin darkened and peeling from the sun, I laughed—then cried.

When my head was forced down for the third time, my body finally gave out and collapsed to the ground.

Echoing in my ears were the words he had once said countless times, "Chloe, wait for me three years. Just three years, and we can be together forever."

But Jonathan… the reckless devotion you once showed in loving me has now become the very reason you hurt me. So this time, I'm not going to wait for you anymore.

…

While I was unconscious, the wound on my back was stitched and bandaged again.

But when I woke up, the hospital mercilessly kicked me out. The reason was simple: the Sterling family refused to pay the medical and hospitalization fees.

I didn't argue. Dragging my broken body through the streets, I suddenly realized that I no longer had a home.

I had even left my phone behind at the Sterling residence, leaving me no way to contact my grandfather, who lived at the old estate.

I wanted to leave as soon as possible—to escape this place that had torn me apart piece by piece.

If Jonathan hadn't found me, I might have died in some forgotten corner.

"Chloe, I checked the surveillance. Eleanor really did frame you.

"Don't blame me. I lost my head in anger. After all, that was my child.

"Your parents only wanted you to apologize to Eleanor, but you insisted on resisting. You need to learn to read the situation—and think about our future."

Yes. Of course, he would protect his child. That was the flesh and blood he shared with Eleanor.