“I–I swear, even if I wind up in hell, even if I come back as a ghost… I’ll never let you off the hook… cough, cough–”

Emma spat her threat at them, but the words were torn apart by a violent fit of coughing that left her mouth stained with blood. The monitors by her bed began to shriek in unison, alarms blaring through the sterile air.

Her body convulsed as if struck by a jolt of electricity, her eyes rolling back until only the whites showed.

A team of doctors in protective gowns rushed in.

“Professor Ludwig, it’s not safe here. You and your wife should step outside,” one of them said politely while preparing to resuscitate Emma.

Jamison nodded, then bent down to speak softly to his wife, who sat motionless in her wheelchair. “Ivy, let’s go.”

“Alright,” Ivy replied. She cast one last, indifferent glance at the struggling figure on the bed. “Rest in peace, Emma.”

Turning away, Jamison wheeled Ivy out of the room.

Behind them, Emma gasped for breath, blood bubbling at her lips as she rasped, “Ivy… come… back…”

With the last of her strength, she reached out, fingers clawing desperately toward the spot where the two had disappeared, as if she could drag Ivy back by sheer will.

But her days of sowing chaos were over.

Leaving the ICU, Ivy felt an unexpected lightness settling over her.

“Honestly, Emma wasn’t wrong,” she murmured to herself, surprised at how little pity she felt for the woman. “I really am more ruthless than she is. And at least twice as hypocritical.”

It was strange, really. Emma was so pitiful, so wretched–by all rights, Ivy should have felt something.

Jamison’s hand closed gently around her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Why care what your enemy thinks? As far as I’m concerned, you’re wonderful.”

She turned to him, meeting his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile. “That’s just love talking, Dr. Ludwig.”

The next morning, Rosetta appeared at Ivy’s door again.

After a round of awkward small talk, during which Ivy barely acknowledged her, Rosetta finally fell silent. She took a breath, then spoke in a low voice: “Ivy, I came because I need to ask you something.”

Ivy didn’t bother to look up from her book. She already knew what was coming. “You want me to let Emma go, don’t you?”

Only that morning had Ivy learned that Emma had been resuscitated–again. Still alive. You have to admire her luck.

Rosetta looked startled, but since the truth was out, she relaxed a little and took a step closer, her voice pleading. “She’s suffered enough. The doctors say she can’t recover. At most, she’s got another week or two–and she’s in agony, Ivy. Her skin is falling apart, her organs are failing. I know she deserves every bit of it, but… she’s still family. We all lived together for over twenty years. Don’t you feel even a shred of–”

Before Rosetta could finish, Ivy closed her book and looked up. “I’ll let her go. I can do it right now. But on one condition–you all stay out of my life from this moment on. Don’t ever come looking for me again.”

She couldn’t understand it.

Every time she tried to let go of her hatred, these people would reappear, pushing her, provoking her, forcing old wounds to open. Was she really so heartless, so cold and cruel by nature? Or was it simply that being hurt by the ones closest to her had left her no other choice?

Rosetta went quiet. Her lips trembled. “That’s… that’s not the same. Once Emma is gone, it’ll just be us–your real family. We’re your parents, Baillie is your–”

“So you won’t agree?” Ivy cut in, voice flat. “Then please leave. I need to rest.”

She set her book aside, pressed the button to recline her hospital bed, and closed her eyes.

Rosetta wavered for a moment, then gave in. “Fine. I promise. If you let Emma go peacefully, I won’t ever come back.”