I don't believe there is no parting sorrow in the world

For all the years they had loved each other, Violet had kept only one thing from Vincent.

It happened the year they graduated university. She had accompanied him on a business trip abroad when they ran headlong into a local armed uprising.

Taking a shortcut back to the hotel, Violet found and rescued an injured man of Chinese descent.

Vincent was trapped at their partner’s company at the time, completely unaware she had brought a stranger back and cared for him for two days.

Before leaving, the man insisted Violet memorize his phone number, telling her to call if she ever needed anything.

She hadn’t thought much of it and never mentioned the strange encounter to Vincent.

It was only later, catching sight of the man’s face on an international news broadcast, that she learned the truth: he was the chieftain of a notoriously fierce tribe that controlled a nation’s oil lifeline.

The moment she realized who he was, Violet shuddered inwardly, wanting nothing more to do with him.

But now, the only thing she could cling to was that number he had forced her to memorize, forwards and backwards.

It was her last lifeline.

Her head throbbed as if packed with needles, yet Violet didn’t dare stop thinking.

She had to find a way to contact him—and quickly.

The ambulance drove straight to the hospital, where a cursory exam was performed before she was transferred overnight to a mental institution.

Violet was aware of everything.

Still, she kept her eyes tightly shut, feigning unconsciousness.

And so, she heard Vincent’s ruthlessness with her own ears once more.

“How long before Violet wakes up? I’ve arranged for the media to film her mental breakdown. If she keeps sleeping, the next steps can’t proceed.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Vincent. Miss Violet’s condition is due to a sudden relaxation after extreme stress. It’s normal for her to sleep longer, but it won’t exceed forty-eight hours.”

“But can you guarantee she’ll act insane when she wakes? What if the reporters arrive and she’s completely normal?”

That sickly-sweet voice—Violet recognized it instantly. It was Nancy, Vincent’s first love and now his wife.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Vincent. We’ll administer a nerve-stimulating drug beforehand. Even if she wakes, she’ll be confused. With all those reporters there, she’ll certainly panic.”

“But I still feel uneasy…” Nancy whined. “Honey, what if she doesn’t break down?”

Vincent answered without hesitation.

“She will.”

“Violet was nearly raped in middle school. Ever since, she’s had an intense aversion to any man besides me.”

“Director Chen, arrange for someone to forcibly wake her through physical contact. I guarantee she’ll lose control.”

Nancy giggled. “Oh, right! I’d forgotten that. You’re so clever, honey. But… that means my dear sister will be taken advantage of by another man. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Vincent’s voice dripped with indulgence. “I can’t let you and Charles take any risk. Besides, if she hadn’t stolen your life by occupying your rightful place, that gambler from the Nancy family would have sold her off to a casino long ago.”

“Honey~”

The next sound to pierce Violet’s ears was the wet, smacking noise of a kiss.

In that moment, she wished desperately she had lost consciousness—that she had heard none of it.

Yet she was also profoundly grateful. Had she been asleep, how would she ever have learned the truth?

She didn’t dare sleep again.

Even as every blood vessel in her brain screamed.

She gritted her teeth and endured.

She knew Vincent. If he said it, he would do it.

Even if the one at the other end of his blade was the person he had once sworn to cherish for a lifetime.

Vincent had no patience for waiting. After just half a day, the man he had arranged stepped into Violet’s hospital room.