Thunder cracked across the sky, lightning tearing through the night while rain came down like it wanted to drown the whole world.

Bonnie Hartwell sat right in front of her, graceful and polished, every bit the rich young lady. But the look she gave Gertrude Hartwell was pure disgust, cold enough to freeze blood.

"Gertrude Hartwell, look at that. You finally ended up in my hands."

Gertrude lay sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. Her body shook nonstop, weak and broken, like she could fall apart any second.

When she was eighteen, after growing up in the countryside, she had been taken back to the imperial capital.

Back then, she really thought Gregory Hartwell had changed his mind. She thought he felt guilty, that he wanted to make up for all those years of abandonment and indifference. But no. He and Bonnie had their own agenda from the start. They stole the property her mother had left her, kicked her out of the house, and step by step shoved her straight into hell.

For four whole years, she clawed her way through the very bottom of society, living like dirt, struggling just to stay alive. Even then, she still couldn't escape the Hartwell family's hunt.

Now she had nothing left. Nothing at all.

She was even about to lose her life.

"Gertrude Hartwell, do you know how your mom died?" Bonnie's lips curled, her voice dripping with malice. "Poisoned. That's how. She had it coming."

Gertrude jerked her head up. Her eyes were bloodshot, red like they were bleeding.

"You did that?"

"Yeah, we did." Bonnie answered without even trying to hide it, as if she were talking about the weather. "If your mother hadn't had a little money, how could she ever have married into the Hartwell family? Her death was perfect. And honestly, you should've died a long time ago too."

Bonnie rose to her feet and looked down at Gertrude from above, all superiority and contempt, like Gertrude was nothing more than trash under her shoe.

Years ago, the Hartwell family had almost gone bankrupt. If Clara Ashford hadn't entered the marriage with a massive dowry, the family would've collapsed long ago. It was her money that dragged them back from the edge.

But Gregory Hartwell had used Clara Ashford from the very beginning.

After getting what he wanted, he plotted against her, forced her out of the Hartwell family, then brought his new lover home like nothing had happened.

At the time, Clara Ashford was already pregnant.

The child in her belly was Gertrude.

After being thrown out of the Hartwell family, Clara Ashford had been too ashamed to return to her parents' home. So she took Gertrude with her to a remote little village. Not long after giving birth, she fell gravely ill and died.

So it wasn't illness after all.

It was poison.

The Hartwell family did it.

They were the reason for everything.

All these years of suffering, all the pain, all the misery crushing her life bit by bit—

it had all started with the Hartwell family.

Gertrude Hartwell felt like she’d been dropped straight into an ice cellar. All these years, she had kept asking herself the same thing over and over—what had she done wrong? Why was her own father so cruel to her? Why had everyone taken turns trampling her like she was nothing?

Only now did she finally get it.

In Gregory Hartwell’s eyes, she had never been his daughter. Not once.

“Gertrude Hartwell, you should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have lived this long. I’ve had plenty of chances over the years to finish you off. Know why I never did?”

Bonnie Hartwell kept talking, her voice sharp and ugly.

“Because I wanted to watch you crawl at my feet and barely survive. I wanted to see you live like a stray dog!”

Seeing Gertrude’s pale, drained face only made Bonnie angrier.

“Do you know why I’ve always gone after you, Gertrude Hartwell? Because I can’t stand you. You’re nothing but a pretty face, so why did you get Mr. Blackwood’s attention?”

Gertrude let out a broken sob. “So all these years... this is why you targeted me?”

“Of course. I’ve liked Mr. Blackwood for more than ten years. What gives you the right to steal what was supposed to be mine?”

The second Mr. Blackwood was mentioned, Bonnie practically exploded. She stared at Gertrude’s face, fury twisting her features, like she wanted to rip her apart piece by piece.

Gertrude, collapsed on the floor, suddenly let out a low string of laughs.

She and the so-called Mr. Blackwood Bonnie kept talking about had never even exchanged a word. They had only met once.

Steal him?

What a joke.

Seeing her lying there, half-dead, Bonnie felt more and more smug.

“So what if Mr. Blackwood liked you? You’re still dead, aren’t you? And you’re dying by my hand. Once you’re dead, how are you supposed to fight me for anything?”

She lifted her hand.

Two bodyguards stepped forward, carrying a can of gasoline, and splashed it into every corner of the room.

The sharp stink of fuel spread fast. Gertrude knew there was no way out now.

But she refused to accept it.

She looked straight at Bonnie’s face and suddenly laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Bonnie snapped.

Gertrude’s eyes had long gone dim, but they were still fixed on her. Word by word, she said, “Bonnie Hartwell, this life, I was stupid. That’s why you got me killed. But if there’s a next life, I’ll make you pay it back double.”

“You’re about to die, and you’re still acting tough?”

Bonnie Hartwell had completely lost it. She lifted her foot and kicked Gertrude Hartwell hard in the stomach. Pain hit like a tidal wave, savage and nonstop, and Gertrude’s vision instantly went dark around the edges.

“Gertrude Hartwell, if you die just like this, that’s way too easy on you,” Bonnie spat, eyes red with rage. “Let me tell you something—I’ll dig up Clara Ashford’s grave and make sure she never knows peace, even after death!”

Clang.

The dagger dropped to the floor. Bonnie stood up and walked out.

The very next second, a burning bundle of firewood was thrown inside—

Bang!

A deafening explosion ripped through the space. Cracking, popping, the roar of flames—all of it tangled together. The air filled with searing heat, wave after wave pressing in on Gertrude.

When Bonnie heard the blast, the corner of her mouth curled up in smug satisfaction.

Gertrude Hartwell, you’re finally dead.

But in the next second, a black car came barreling straight at her. Bonnie had no time to dodge. With a loud crash, everything came to an abrupt end.

The car door swung open, and the man inside got out.

He looked worn to the bone, his face pale and drained, his steps unsteady as he staggered toward the room already swallowed by flames.

“Gertrude Hartwell!”

A moment later, she was lifted into someone’s arms. The man’s warmth closed in around her.

Gertrude wanted to force her eyes open and see who it was, but she couldn’t.

Her whole body hurt. It hurt so bad.

The fire raged harder and harder, and little by little, her world went quiet.

It felt like her soul was being torn free from her body. She drifted in midair and saw Adrian Blackwood clutching her, crying so hard he nearly broke apart.

Maybe he was the only person in this world who would shed tears for her.

Gertrude tried to call his name, but she realized she couldn’t make a sound at all.

Tears slid down with all the hatred in her heart, and Gertrude Hartwell felt the tip of her heart trembling.

Her whole life had been one giant joke.

And now, finally, it was over.

But she refused to accept it.

No way.

If there really was another life, she would make every single person who had hurt her pay back double.

She would drag them all straight into hell.

...

It was deep winter.

On a train heading for Didu.

The carriage was packed with noise, kids crying, people talking over each other, the whole place a mess. Sitting in the corner, Gertrude suddenly opened her eyes.

Where... was this?

Was this the very train she had taken back to Didu that year?

She turned to the window and saw a pale little face reflected in the glass, tired, yes, but not hollowed out after being hunted down, and definitely not miserable like after being locked up.

She had been reborn.

She dug her nails hard into her palm. The sharp pain hit at once, reminding her again and again that this was real.

Then, all of a sudden, a group of men in black barged into the carriage. "Search!"

Gertrude pulled a mask out of her bag and put it on. They were here for her.

In her last life, she had been chased on this train, and it had left her crippled. One of her legs was ruined.

The Hartwell family used that as an excuse to shove her onto the operating table and take her kidney.

This time, she was going to get it all back.

Bit by bit.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this chase alive and in one piece.

The carriage was packed tight, shoulder to shoulder. Gertrude Hartwell used the crush of people as cover, slipping out with the flow and hurrying forward.

The men in black caught sight of her back and immediately went after her.

She had gone hungry for a full day and night. Her strength was basically bottomed out, and as she ran, she staggered like she could drop any second.

Someone shoved her from the crowd.

She crashed hard onto the floor.

The very next second, one of the men in black raised the club in his hand and brought it down straight at Gertrude—

Bang.

The blow landed on her foot. Pain exploded through her leg, so sharp her whole body started shaking.

"Still trying to run? You think you can—"

The man gave a nasty grin, but before he could finish, someone slammed into him from the side and sent him stumbling into another passenger.

Gertrude dragged her injured leg and lurched forward again.

"Don't let her get away, move!"

"Madam made it clear—we have to break one of her legs!"

Her leg hurt so badly her little face turned ghost-white.

She kept forcing herself ahead, step by step, until she somehow reached the frontmost compartment. There, she spotted a door that hadn't been fully shut.

She paused for half a beat.

Then, in the next second, she carefully pushed it open—

Her thin body had only just slipped inside when the men in black caught up behind her.

"Where is she? Keep looking!"

Bang—

The sound of things being smashed rang out again and again. Gertrude's face went pale with fear, and her whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Dragging her wounded leg, she slowly moved deeper into the compartment.

The compartment reeked of blood so strongly it almost made the air feel sticky. Gertrude Hartwell held her breath and stepped inside, one careful step after another.

The very next second, bang!

Something heavy crashed to the floor inside. Right after that, a figure came out of the darkness.

"Ah!"

Gertrude was so startled she stumbled back again and again. Her foot came down hard on a shard of broken glass, and she dropped to the ground with a thud.

She could only stare, frozen, as the man slowly walked toward her.

His eyes were terrifyingly red, wild and sharp, carrying a raw, beast-like hunger as they locked onto the girl on the floor, like he wanted to swallow her whole.

He was barefoot, stepping straight over the broken glass. Blood spread under his feet, bright and shocking, yet he seemed to feel no pain at all. There was only a violent, unstable madness flickering in his eyes.

He had never shown mercy to anyone reckless enough to break into his territory.

It was him!