The wind leaves a sound, but love leaves no trace.

Kelly was wheeled into the operating room.

As her consciousness began to fray, an icy hand clamped around her jaw, forcing that venomous face back into view.

"Just cut the skin from her face and feed it to the dogs."

That cold, vicious tone dragged Kelly back from the brink.

Kathleen’s arm had barely been scratched—nothing like the grave injury the doctors had described.

Digging her nails into her own thigh, Kelly fought to stay lucid. She forced out two ragged sentences. "Kathleen, I’m no threat to you anymore. Why won’t you let me go?"

"Let you go? And who would secure my future?"

Kathleen’s lips parted and closed, serpent-like.

"That face of yours is the threat, Kelly. This is your punishment for ignoring my warnings—for trying to get close to Ralph again."

"Begin. No anesthesia."

At the command, Kathleen pulled out her phone and started recording.

Kelly felt like a fish pinned to a cutting board, restrained and utterly helpless.

The scalpel bit into her face—a sharp, bone-deep agony that seized her whole body in violent tremors. She was torn, again and again, between wrenching clarity and drowning darkness.

The excruciating torture, a kind of slow dismemberment, only ended when she finally blacked out.

When she woke, Kelly found herself in a hospital bed.

Her face, swathed in bandages, was numb. The air smelled of antiseptic. Besides the cold, rhythmic beeping of monitors, she could hear hushed whispers from the nurses.

"People are truly unhinged these days. First, she fakes a sulfuric acid attack, then gets her face carved up without anesthesia. How can Miss Kathleen play so recklessly?"

"That’s nothing. Clearly, Mr. Ralph is backing her. But I know something even more shocking."

"Actually, this Miss Kelly is Mr. Ralph’s real fiancée. Back when Mr. Ralph was injured in that car accident, Miss Kathleen brought a psychologist into the operating room and tampered with his memories. From what I’ve heard, Mr. Ralph is still on special medication from that psychologist. Otherwise, how could he mistake his own fiancée for an enemy?"

"No wonder. Miss Kelly’s been unconscious for three days without a single visitor. Meanwhile, down in the VIP wing, Miss Kathleen’s room is overflowing with flowers and gifts—practically spilling into the hall. And Mr. Ralph hasn’t left her side, doting on her hand and foot. What a cruel twist of fate."

After a sigh of pity, the two left the room.

Their conversation echoed with perfect clarity in Kelly’s mind.

So Ralph had forgotten her completely… because Kathleen had made it happen.

Kelly’s blood ran cold. She ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand, stumbled out of bed, and staggered into the corridor.

Outside the premium suite, she saw Ralph. Before she could push the door open, Kathleen’s sharp question cut through the air.

"Ralph, if one day you discovered that you and Miss Kelly truly had a poignant past… would you regret being with me?"

Hearing this, Ralph immediately set down the fruit he was holding. He affectionately tapped Kathleen’s nose and took her hand. "Never. She’s just a maid’s daughter. However intense the past might have been, it doesn’t matter. She isn’t worth a single strand of your hair, my dear. My bride will only be you. From now on, I’ll handle all the wedding arrangements myself."

"Ralph, you’re so good to me. I love you so much."

As she spoke, Kathleen looped her arms around Ralph’s neck and pulled him close.

He surrendered almost instantly. Their silhouettes merged into an intimate, tangled embrace.

Every word was another knife twisting in Kelly’s heart.

She had wanted to storm in, to make a scene, to expose Kathleen’s crimes and wake Ralph up.

Now, she saw it was pointless.

They were from different worlds. Their paths had diverged for good.