After Killing Me Ninety-Nine Times For His First Love, He Repented And Went Crazy

Diana playfully smacked Tristan on the chest.

“Why jazz? You know I hate jazz.”

Tristan immediately apologized, but his eyes drifted to the rearview mirror—glancing at me in the backseat.

I like jazz.

His expression darkened with a faint frown, irritation flickering across his face as the realization hit him.

But then he saw how indifferent I was, completely unbothered—and the shadow in his heart grew heavier.

These days, even with Diana chattering beside him, he could barely muster a response.

He seemed somewhere far away.

When we arrived at the lab, the lead researcher came out eagerly to greet us.

He grinned at Diana and joked,

“Mrs. Jagger, you don’t know how many priceless samples Mr. Jagger has sent over these past few days—each one a treasure worth thousands.”

Then, lowering his voice and shifting his gaze to me, he asked knowingly,

“Is this the new experimental subject?”

Tristan’s expression stiffened. He quickly changed the subject.

“How’s the blood sample I sent earlier?”

“The results are in,” the researcher replied. “The reanimation factor inside is slowly degrading...”

He motioned for Tristan to follow him into the lab to review the findings.

Concerned about radiation exposure, Tristan gently urged Diana to wait outside.

As soon as he was gone, Diana’s demeanor snapped like a broken mask.

She pulled a small pill bottle from her purse, her gaze sharp and venomous.

“Winda, you’re really hard to kill. After everything, you're still alive.”

“Let’s make a bet. Let’s see who Tristan really cares about. Whoever loses… vanishes.”

There was nothing to bet on.

I was destined to lose.

“I bet Tristan will deconstruct you himself,” she sneered. “Don’t worry—once it’s done, I’ll have the lab declare you dead. Then you can disappear forever. Never show your face to us again.”

“Alright,” I replied without hesitation.

Diana paused—clearly surprised I agreed so quickly.

Then she grabbed my hand and forced it around her throat.

In the same instant, she swallowed the pills she’d hidden in her palm.

Foam bubbled at her lips as she collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

I stumbled back in shock, legs going weak beneath me.

Tristan’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Diana—!”

He rushed in, eyes immediately locking on Diana’s convulsing body. He dropped to her side in panic.

“Diana! Wake up! Diana!”

He whipped around and shouted at me,

“What did you do?!”

The lab director arrived, sweating profusely but quick to assess the situation.

After a quick examination, he gave his grim recommendation.

“Madam’s fetal vitals are unstable and she’s suffocating. If we don’t act fast, we’ll lose the baby!”

“We need to deconstruct the subject now to determine the survival potential!”

Tristan’s chest heaved with violent breaths as he stared at me, torn but resolute.

“…Prepare the operating table!”

Soon, I was strapped onto the lab table, cold metal beneath me.

The final death was coming.

As the anesthesia began to flood my veins, Diana leaned in, her voice like a razor.

“Don’t worry. Once you’re dissected, I’ll personally send your ashes to the crematorium. No matter how powerful you are… you can’t come back from dust.”

I saw Tristan, standing on the side, heart clenched, brow furrowed, yet unmoving.

I closed my eyes.

This was the hundredth death.

From this moment on, Tristan and I...

No longer have anything to do with each other.