Chapter 121

Jonathan frowned at the little girl perched in the tree. Cynthia, swinging her chubby legs, called down, "The river water is freezing at night. It's uncomfortable." Though young and her voice childlike, her words held a decisiveness beyond her years.

"Go away," Jonathan, ten years old, snapped, a flicker of anger in his eyes. His heart, already hardened by the dark secrets of his family, held little room for childish games. As the heir, he possessed a maturity far beyond his age; he had recently learned of his family's most sordid and shameful secrets.

Whitney's torment still haunted him. She, fearing water, had pushed him into a swimming pool. He struggled, gasping for breath, the air slowly leaving his lungs as he sank to the bottom. Whitney watched impassively from the pool's edge.

From the depths, Jonathan saw the cold indifference in her eyes. Despair enveloped him; death seemed preferable. Fortunately, the butler found him and pulled him out. He had been underwater for several minutes. Susanna rushed him to the hospital in tears. Upon waking, Whitney stood by his bedside.

He claimed amnesia, a plausible explanation given the near-drowning. But he remembered everything—Whitney's hand pushing him, his desperate cries for help, her uncaring gaze. He recalled the suffocating despair, the hatred in her eyes. He was only ten.

Life felt meaningless, hopeless. His birth, he believed, was a punishment, a stain on the family, an unerasable mark of shame and darkness. He wasn't born of love, but of sin. Death, he thought, would bring everyone relief. A vengeful streak even surfaced. He wondered if Whitney would be shocked to find his body in the river at dawn, whether she'd feel a flicker of sadness, shed a single tear.

He was about to jump when five-year-old Cynthia appeared. Ignoring his harsh command to leave, she hopped down, landing before him. "If you jump, I'll save you," she declared.

Jonathan scoffed. "You're too young. Don't overestimate yourself. Besides," he added, "I just learned to swim. I might drown trying to save you."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "I don't need your help."

"But I can't watch you die," she insisted.

Chapter 121 (continued)

Jonathan stared at Cynthia, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. A strange girl wouldn't watch him die, yet his own blood relatives had pushed him towards hell. Sadness washed over him. He fell silent, gazing at the calm river, his heart a tempest.

"Why do you want to die?" Cynthia asked.

He couldn't shield his emotions from a five-year-old. "Because I can't find a reason to live," he confessed, his eyes filled with sorrow. "No one wants me alive."

Cynthia blinked. "Then I'll give you a reason."

"What reason?" he asked, turning to her.

"Live for me."

"For you?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. You said no one wants you alive. I want you to live. Live for me."

Her innocent words, almost childish, brought tears to his eyes. Her seemingly absurd reason became the anchor that kept him afloat during the darkest times.

"You're so handsome," she continued. "Don't give up. My mom says to be strong. Life is precious. Do the trees and flowers search for a reason to live? No, they just live. If you don't have a friend, I'll be your friend. If no one loves you, I'll love you, okay? Live well."

Her innocent face belied her perceptive words, cutting through the fog of his despair. A new thought dawned: if they wanted him dead, he'd live well and make them suffer. If he was a demon, he'd be their demon.

From that day, Jonathan found resolve, his obsession with death replaced by defiance towards Whitney. Decades of conflict began. In moments of despair, he remembered the little girl with the lollipop, her words: "If you don't have friends, I'll be your friend. If no one loves you, I'll love you."

Cynthia, however, had long forgotten their encounter. It was just a child's words. Yet, Jonathan cherished them for over a decade. During his hospital stay, she visited daily, a shadow clinging to him, coaxing him to play, tricking him into spending his allowance on ice cream.

She, too, was hospitalized for chronic headaches, possibly stemming from lesions in her brain. The doctors could only observe; treatment was impossible. She was discharged unexpectedly.

Chapter 121 (continued)

On the day of her discharge, Jonathan missed saying goodbye. He'd gone to buy her custard bread; when he returned, she was gone. Only a tiny rabbit hairpin remained, tucked under his bed.

He kept the hairpin for years, occasionally taking it out. It was adorned with tiny crystals; the rabbit's nose was a larger, blue "diamond"—likely glass. One day, the blue "diamond" fell off. He had it made into an earring, which he still wore.

Cynthia later saw the earring in his car and repeatedly asked about the woman who'd given it to him. He longed to tell her it was a symbol of the hope and courage she'd given him, the reason he lived.