Zoe was terrified. She screamed, "No, stop!"

Kenneth hadn't expected such ruthlessness. Seeing Tiffany standing as if awaiting death, his heart ached. His head throbbed as if all his blood had rushed there. He raced to her side.

Just as a knife was about to pierce Tiffany's heart, a gust of wind carried light purple powder into the air. The assassin recoiled. "Retreat! It's toxic!"

But it was too late. A fortunate gust of wind blew the powder toward the assassins. In moments, several collapsed, wailing in pain. The poison wasn't fatal, but it paralyzed them. The tables had turned; the assassins lay helpless.

Tiffany looked down disdainfully. "Tell me, who sent you?" The question was opportunistic, but the moment was ripe.

One assassin, writhing in pain, gasped, "Who are you?"

Tiffany kicked him. "You were sent to kill me, but you don't know who I am?"

He remained silent despite the pain. Tiffany drew her switchblade and slashed his arms twice, mirroring the wounds he had inflicted on her. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?"

She threatened coldly, "You're poisoned. You'll die in three to five minutes. At least do one last noble deed."

(The poison's effects would wear off within that time; it wasn't potent.)

The threat worked. Fear of death, as Tiffany had seen with Garry, overcame even ruthless assassins.

After a brief struggle, one assassin conceded, "You promise the antidote?"

"Of course."

"Okay, I'll talk." He sat up weakly, beginning to speak, "Yes, someone…"

But then, a bullet zipped toward Tiffany. She had no choice but to jump off the bridge. She narrowly avoided the first shot, but a second followed.

Tiffany's plunge created a bloody splash. Kenneth’s vision blurred; he saw the blood. "Tiffany's blood… How…?"

Zoe fainted from shock. Ged screamed, "Richard, where are you?"

The water remained still, only stained crimson. Melody watched with a complex expression.

The shooter appeared, confirming Tiffany's apparent demise. He sneered at the assassins, "Trash!"

The assassins, reprimanded and momentarily fooled, felt the poison's effects fading.

Ged, grabbing a stone, charged the shooter, roaring, "I'll kill you!"

But a gun was pointed at his head. The shooter grinned, "Want to die? I can make it quick."

Just then, a dull switchblade, flung from the grass, barely scratched the shooter. He turned to see Tiffany, disheveled but beautiful, crawling from the water.

"Die, die!" Tiffany fired an arrow, but the shooter, even off guard, was unharmed.

"Well played." Enraged, he grabbed Tiffany's neck. The water had rendered her poisonous powder useless; she was feverish, injured, and nearly unconscious from the cold.

Powerless, she closed her eyes. She saw Ged and Kenneth rushing toward her, then the shooter dispatching them. She saw…

Richard arrived dramatically, seemingly a godsend. Was she hallucinating?

Opening her eyes, she saw his handsome face. Why did it feel so real?

Richard's face was cold. After embracing Tiffany, he looked at the shocked assassins, particularly their leader. A chilling voice filled the air: "Die." His presence alone radiated menace.

His subordinate, John Ross, directed bodyguards to drag away the assassins. Their fate was clear.

Tiffany blinked weakly, noticing Richard's clenched jaw and cold eyes, revealing both anger and anxiety. She smiled, softening her gaze. "You're here?" she murmured.

Richard trembled, embracing her tightly. He'd raced to her side, nearly losing control at the sight of her blood. He was grateful he'd arrived in time. He didn't dare consider what might have happened otherwise.

"Yes, I'm here," he said, his voice heavy with lingering fear. His composure, usually unshakeable, had broken.