Chapter 3

Patrick let out a scornful laugh. "You're unbelievable. Using cheap tricks like that to tie me down? Do you even know your own worth?

"I haven't stepped foot into your room for half a year. How would you possibly be pregnant?

"Look at that scarred face of yours. It makes me sick."

He jabbed his finger hard at the scar on my forehead, his eyes burning with disgust. The sting went straight to my heart.

I remembered so clearly how he once told me that the scar on my forehead and the one on his hand were gifts from the heavens, marks of our shared fate, proof of a love that would never break.

Those were the words that warmed me through countless nights. Now they were nothing but something that disgusted him.

"Cut it out with these stupid games, or you'll regret it," he snapped, then didn't even bother to look back as he left with Violet on his arm.

He didn't even see me curled up, vomiting blood from the agony.

Once, a small scrape on me would worry him for half a day. Now, in this state, he didn't even look back.

I had never doubted his sincerity before. I hadn't known that sincerity could vanish in a single breath.

Tricking people was easy, Patrick, but tricking a god? That was another story. One day, you would pay for it.

The pain kept growing sharper, yet my body felt lighter and lighter, as if my soul were ready to drift free.

I could even see a shimmering thread stretched between me and Patrick Winslow.

It was our thread of fate, and it was fraying fast. Once it snapped, I would finally be able to leave.

It didn't take long before the Winslow family estate had been scrubbed clean and reborn.

Servants rushed about preparing for Patrick's wedding to Violet.

Patrick ordered that the ceremony be grand enough to dazzle the whole city. He wanted everyone to envy the place Violet held in his heart.

That day, after hiding himself for so long, Patrick suddenly appeared in my courtyard. I lay on my bed, weak and faint, unable to rise.

When he saw how sick I looked, he just scowled in disgust.

"Still pretending to be sick? You really think that trick works on me?" he said, sneering. "So what is it this time?

"Upset because I'm marrying Violet, so you put on this dying act?"

I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling. His impatience sharpened. He refused even the water the maid offered him.

He wouldn't sit, either, as though the very air here made him unclean.

He said, "Violet's about to be the lady of the house. She should be the one living in this courtyard. But she's generous, and said you could keep it. You ought to remember that kindness.

"Tomorrow night Violet and I are wed. Make sure you show up, serve her coffee, and thank her properly. It'll make you look gracious for stepping aside."

He left before I could speak.

My maid ground her teeth, furious that Violet dared to bully me, urging me not to be so soft.

I only smiled and told her not to worry. Then I slipped her contract of servitude into her hands along with a purse of silver.

We had lived as mistress and servant for years. Once I was gone, I didn't want her chained to my fate.

The next evening, several stout matrons barged in, shoved my maid aside, dragged me from the bed, dressed me roughly, and pushed me toward the front hall where Patrick and Violet would bow before the ancestors.

Patrick and Violet, dressed in formal attire, sat at the seats, admired by everyone for their perfect match.

Patrick took one look at my ridiculous outfit and my half-dead, miserable face, and his anger was plain as day.

"You, how dare you show up looking like this? You know you're supposed to serve tea to the lady of the house today, and you come dressed like that? That's pure disrespect!" he snapped.

"Someone, slap her," he ordered.

At his command the matrons moved forward, but Violet lifted her hand.

"Patrick, let it be. It's my wedding day. Don't stir up trouble over something so small," she said, her voice soft and sweet.

She patted Patrick's hand with tender grace. He looked at her with warm approval before turning back to me.

"For Violet's sake, I'll spare you this once. But don't mess up the ceremony," he said.

Violet gave me a smug, almost-smiling look as she started talking. "I know you're not happy, but don't go blaming Patrick. If anyone's at fault, it's you.

"It's your own fault you couldn't give him a child.

"Just behave yourself and stick to my rules, and I won't treat you unfairly. When you're old, Patrick and I's kids will make sure you're looked after."

Patrick nodded in pride while the crowd praised her kindness.

I didn't bat an eye. My face was calm as ever.

In the past, I would have clawed that smug smile right off her face. But my heart had long gone cold.

My time here was almost spent. Their cruelty only invited divine retribution. The harder they pushed now, the harsher the punishment waiting ahead.

Two matrons forced me to my knees before Violet and thrust a steaming cup into my hands. I was to lift it high and offer her coffee.

Violet giggled into her fingers, her gaze fixed on the necklace at my neck. She signaled a matron, who reached straight for my chest.

There, hidden against my skin, lay the pearl pendant I had worn since arriving in this world.

A simple necklace, yet Violet had noticed.

I clutched it tight. In the struggle, the cord bit deep into my neck and cut the skin, warm blood spilling down.

Patrick hesitated when he saw how fiercely I protected it, but Violet said nothing, so he spoke, "It's only a jade token. Give it to Violet as an apology. If you want another, I'll find one for you later."

"It's just a pearl pendant. Give it to Violet as a peace offering. If you're so attached, I'll just get you another one later," he said, cold as ever.

But this was no ordinary pendant. It was the pass that would let me return to Heaven. Without it, I was trapped.