When Love Turns Cold, I Let Go

Brigitta had travelled through time thrice and loved Damien in each different timeline. Unfortunately, they ended up as bitter enemies each time.

The first time, Damien’s kept that woman, Irene, had jumped from the balcony during their wedding. Damien had blamed Brigitta and tortured her for fifty years before finally carrying her to that same spot and leaping with her in his arms. His body crushed into the ground in a bloody tribute to his precious woman.

The second time, Irene had hanged herself in their bridal suite. That same night, Damien had stared at his beloved woman’s lifeless body, eyes burning red and in a blind rage, seized Brigitta by the throat—destroying her vocal cords.

The third time, before Irene could even make a move, Brigitta had stepped in and saved her. But Damien had said nothing. On the day after the wedding, he had simply vanished—and she hadn’t seen him again until the moment he lay on his deathbed.

Three times, Damien’s kept woman had killed herself on their wedding day. Three times, Brigitta had paid for it with years of Damien’s endless torment.

This time, Brigitta opened her eyes three days before the wedding. She tore off the gown she had been trying on, grabbed the phone and called Damien’s kept woman.

“Come pick out a wedding dress. The wedding is canceled. I'm not getting married.”

——

A mocking laugh came through the line.

“Lady Holmund, what game are you playing now? I don’t believe you. Unless... you bring the dress to me yourself.”

Brigitta tightened her grip on the phone, forcing down her anger.

Fine. Let it be the last thing she ever did for the two of them.

Upon arriving at the address Irene had given her, the door stood ajar. She pushed it open—only to be greeted by with lingerie and condom wrappers scattered across the floor, the air thick with the sharp scent of sex. From the bedroom came the sound of breathless, intimate gasps…

Brigitta knew that voice. She’d became familiar with it for the past three lifetimes. It was Damien's!

Even after three unfortunate lifetime, seeing the scene before her still tore her heart to pieces.

The man looked up, shoved the woman on top off him and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Brigitta opened her mouth to answer, but Irene had already flung herself into Damien’s arms, weeping dramatically.

“Ms. Holmund must be trying to humiliate me again. She even came in person to deliver a wedding dress!”

Damien’s face hardened. He rose, not bothering to cover himself as he shrugged into a robe. “I’ve already given you the title of Mrs. Arkwright. What more do you want? She may be nothing but an ornament to me, but if you lay a hand on her, you’ll be my enemy. This is your last warning.”

No one knew better than Brigitta how much Damien cared for his kept woman.

Her mind flashed back to the three lifetimes she had already lived.

The first time, Irene had jumped from their wedding venue. Damien tortured Brigitta for the next fifty years before finally carrying her to the same spot and jumped with her, crushing his body into the ground in a tribute to his kept woman.

The second time, Irene had hanged herself in the bridal suite. That night, Damien had stared at her corpse with burning eyes, then seized Brigitta by the throat, destroying her vocal chords.

The third time, Brigitta had saved Irene before she could act—but Damien had said nothing. The day after the wedding, he disappeared. She never saw him again until his deathbed.

Three deaths had taught Brigitta one truth: Damien had always cherished Irene, while she had been the intruder that stood between them.

Damien's love—or lack of it—had always been clear. And Irene would be her enemy for life, yet Damien insisted on keeping her close.

As Brigitta stayed silent, buried in her thoughts, Damien wrapped an arm around Irene and looked down at her.

“The cleaner’s off today. Since you’re here, tidy this place up. Irene’s staying tonight,” he said.

Brigitta fists clenched. She could bear no more. “Damien, since you’re here, I’ll say it straight—about the wedding—”

“Enough!” he roared. “I agreed to marry you, as you wanted and now you can’t stop talking about the wedding? Are you trying to humiliate Irene? Get out!”

He snatched up a glass ashtray and hurled it at her.

Bang!

It grazed her forehead and shattered against the wall. Warm blood trickled down her face.

Brigitta felt a sudden ringing in her head, intense pain radiating from her forehead and she could barely stand.

Damien’s pupils constricted. He froze. “Why… didn’t you dodge?”

Why? Because she would never again stoop to begging for his mercy.

“Damien, I owe you nothing. And I warn you... do NOT touch me again.”

She wiped the blood from her face, dropped the wedding dress onto the floor and walked out without looking back.

Outside, she hailed a cab to the hospital. Her wound was cleaned and bandaged quickly.

At the time, her heart felt numb, though a dull ache still throbbed inside.

In the past, Brigitta might have exaggerated an injury to win Damien’s sympathy. And he would have tended to her around the clock.

Everyone said that Brigitta was Damien’s entire world and no one could shake her position in his heart. People still remembered the time Damien had celebrated her recovery from a mild cold by spending hundreds of millions on three nights of fireworks over Ardenport.

After Irene appeared, however, that place in his heart had vanished.

Three lifetimes had been enough for Brigitta to finally see the truth. This time, she would break free of Damien and live for herself.

After leaving the hospital, she pulled out her phone and sent emails to her expedition team.

As the lead director of The Thalasson Project—an expedition to uncover a lost civilization—Brigitta was ready to abandon her obsession with Damien and devote the rest of her life to the dream she had always yearned for.

After sending the messages, exhaustion washed over Brigitta. Somewhere in the haze, she heard the front door open.

The estate she was currently in had been bought jointly by Damien's and her families for the marriage, but Damien had almost never stayed there... be it before or after the wedding.

Tonight though, he had come.

A long while later, Brigitta left her bedroom to fetch her charger. Passing the study, she saw him sitting at his desk under the warm lamplight, typing something intently.

Hearing her, Damien looked up. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Brigitta didn’t answer and was about to keep walking when he called her back.

His eyes looked tired as he removed his silverrimmed glasses and rubbed his brow.

“About today… I’m sorry,” he said. “But you should never have paraded the wedding dress in front of her. Irene has never gone out of her way to provoke you. Why are you acting like that?”

Brigitta’s remained calm. “You’re mistaken. I went to deliver the dress. The wedding—”

Damien’s mouth curved in a humorless smile.

“The wedding’s off? You’re handing it over to her?”

“You already know? Good.”

Damien's eyes chilled, his tone laced with scorn. “So Irene was right—you’re playing games. Brigitta, you truly disgust me. Whose idea was this? You love me so much you’re desperate to marry me, yet now you’re giving the ceremony to someone else?”

She didn’t want to explain. “Believe what you want. I’ve told you.”

He cut her off, his voice turning cold. “If not for our families’ business arrangement, I would never marry you. Irene is pure and kind—don’t you dare touch her. You may have the title of Mrs. Arkwright, but don’t dream of earning my love.”

Her indifference seemed to irritate him further.

So, he got up, pulled her into his arms and sat her on his lap, gripping her waist tightly. “Or is this about earlier? You saw us and got jealous?”

Damien's hand slid downward while the other gripped her chin, forcing a kiss on her.

Brigitta shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!”

She stood up from his lap, wiped her lips and didn't want him to touch her. Just thinking of Damien and Irene in bed that afternoon made her stomach turn.

Damien paused for a moment, then sneered: “Playing hard to get? Such a trivial trick.”

Brigitta sighed. She didn’t want to argue more and just wanted to leave.

As she reached the door, his voice followed her. “That little Thalasson Project expedition you’ve been dreaming about—it’s finally open for applications again after five years. I’ll be working late, sleeping in the study. Don’t disturb me.”

Her step faltered, but she said nothing and left.

Back in her room, Brigitta immediately logged into the expedition’s official site. Within minutes, she posted the announcement: this year’s team was now assembling and applications from foreign enthusiasts were closed.

The next morning, Brigitta was yanked out of bed by a rough hand. She opened her eyes to find Damien looming over her, red veins spidering in his gaze. He was clutching her phone.

“How did you get a spot in the Thalasson Project?”

She frowned. “Why are you looking at my phone? Let go of me!”

He threw the phone onto her. “It wouldn’t stop ringing. I went to turn it off—and found an endless stream of emails! You stole Irene’s spot, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re lying!” His grip tightened until she hissed in pain. “I told you last night and now you magically have an invitation—while Irene is suddenly out. You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”

He continued, “I never realized you were this manipulative. Three days before our wedding and you’d run off to join some expedition just to spite Irene? Give her back her place.”

Brigitta almost laughed. Fate had a cruel sense of humor—making it seem as though she were the manipulative one, when she knew exactly who had been doing the real damage.

She calmed herself down and said, “I didn't take her spot and don't look at my phone again.”

Damien released her, pulling a tissue from the box to wipe his fingers as if touching her had dirtied him.

Brigitta closed her eyes. This Damien was exactly the same as in her past three lives—meeting her only with hostility.

He stared at the silent Brigitta for a long moment, then said coldly, “You'll regret this.”

And with that, Damien strode out, slamming the door behind him.

After Damien left, Brigitta dragged herself out of bed.

She hadn’t slept well; her body felt heavy with exhaustion. Their supposed to be wedding was in two days and she needed to pack—because this time, she would be gone before it happened. She refused to make the same mistakes again.

Everything in the house reminded her of Damien, so she cleaned everything out, had it taken away and packed only a backpack for herself.

Once everything was done, she checked the time on her phone, grabbed her car keys and headed to the embassy to renew her visa.

While waiting in line, Brigitta pulled a baseball cap low over her brow to hide her wound.

Never again would she degrade herself for love.

She had every reason to hold her head high. The thought of Damien telling her to “live with her tail between her legs” last night only deepened her disgust at the way she had once loved him desperately.

To distract herself, she scrolled through her phone. The news and trending topics were flooded with headlines about her expedition team:

[BREAKING: The world’s top exploration team returns to unravel the mystery of The Thalasson Project.]

[Legendary Chief Expedition ‘X’ has come out of retirement. The next expedition will change the course of history.]

Even the foreigners in line beside her were talking about it.

“That insane expedition team closed public applications last night. My friend offered billions and still couldn’t get the last slot. Unbelievable!”

“It’s and expedition for a Lost City Thalasson, a prehistoric supercivilization! If I got to go just once in my life, I’d die happy. And with Chief ‘X’ leading? That’s like getting a ticket to another planet!”

Their animated praise for the “Legendary Chief of Expedition” eased some of the tension in Brigitta's chest.

Then she heard the click of impatient heels on the floor. She looked up—and froze. It was Damien and Irene!

Why were those two in the embassy? Brigitta mused to herself. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips, she was hoping those two wouldn’t notice her.

“Damien, I don’t want to go to Elyria,” Irene pouted against his chest. “I want to join that expedition team. Everyone’s talking about it now! It must've been an awesome experience! Why can Brigitta go but I can’t? She stole my spot on purpose!”

“She didn’t steal your spot. Everyone has to apply on their own. We just had bad luck. I'll make it up to you. Wait here, I need to take a call.” Damien walked out to take the call, leaving Irene alone.

Brigitta was puzzled. This morning, he had been nothing but cruel to her. Now he was defending her?

Alas, Irene had already spotted her by then.

Brigitta instinctively lowered her cap, but too late—Irene was already walking over with a smile on her face.

“Ms. Holmund, are you following us all the way here? Why do you always turn up wherever we go?”

Brigitta’s smiled out of sarcasm. “You said it yourself—I got into the expedition. I’m here to renew my visa. What about you?”

“You—!”

Irene bit back her anger and smirked instead. “So what if you got in? Your man still sleeps in my bed. You’re just left with the scraps. Happy wedding, dear 'sister'.”

Brigitta clenched her fists: “You’re just as shameless as your mother!”

Irene’s eyes gleamed with vicious pride. “My mother built her own good life. And yours? Where is she?”

Brigitta’s anger flared and she raised her hand, ready to slap her.

But Irene moved first—grabbing her wrist and slamming her hand down on the binding machine beside them. She pressed the switch.

The screwpress crushed through Brigitta’s little finger.

Blood gushed out of the wound and those around her were so frightened they backed away to a safe distance.

The pain was excurciating. Brigitta bit down hard on her lip, clutching her hand as Irene let out a piercing scream.

Damien appeared in seconds. He saw Brigitta's bleeding little finger, his eyes momentarily filled with confusion. Just as he was about to approach Brigitta, Irene grabbed his arm.

“Damien, Ms. Holmund hit me, then ran her own hand into the machine… I can’t—oh God, I can’t look—” She faked weakness and limped against him.

Damien caught her immediately and swept her up in his arms without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Brigitta’s voice shook with pain. “Damien, Take me to a hospital! I can't feel my fingers!”

There was pleading in her tone.

Yet, Damien's eyes went cold upon hearing that. “You brought this on yourself. I told you not to touch her. If you weren’t bleeding, Irene wouldn’t have fainted!”

He added, “Even if you lose the finger, you deserve it.”

And with that, Damien strode out of the embassy with Irene in his arms then drove her to the nearest hospital.

Brigitta's head buzzed as she could only stand helplessly on her spot.

This was the first time she had ever begged Damien to help her—and he had turned away. That man had seen her blood and chosen to walk past her.

The pain in her hand blurred her vision. Just before she blacked out, she felt someone catch her.

Upon regaining consciousness and opened her eyes, Brigitta found herself lying in a hospital ward.

She turned her head and looked down at her hand, only to see it wrapped entirely in gauze. The anesthetic must still be taking effect, that's must be why there was no pain.

The memory of Irene suddenly attacking her while she wasn’t on guard made Brigitta tremble with rage. The surge of anger triggered a sharp ache in her head. She tried to recall what had happened after she blacked out, but no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn't remember anything.

Who had saved her and brought her here?

Right now, the most important thing was to confirm how bad was her injury. Brigitta had no intention of delaying her plans. She pulled out the IV needle, got out of bed and went to look for a doctor.

In the duty doctor’s office, she froze at the sight. Before her was Damien speaking with the attending doctor, jotting down every detail on a notepad.

Could it be… that he regretted everything and had been the one to save her?

When Damien noticed Brigitta standing at the door, his brows knitted together. “What are you doing here? Haunting me again?”

Brigitta gave a bitter smile. “This was the only hospital near the embassy. I didn’t exactly plan on running into you.”

His gaze dropped to her bandaged hand, his tone turning cold. “She’s very weak now. Are you satisfied with that? If you hadn’t gone after Irene, none of this would’ve escalated to the point of a hospital stay. You’d better stop with the games.”

Brigitta frowned. “I didn’t touch her—she’s the one who—”

“Enough! Don’t tell me you’re going to claim she pushed you? Irene fainted from the sight of blood and still hasn’t woken up. And now you want to smear her name? Brigitta, maybe I’ve been far too lenient with you. If you pull another stunt, the wedding is off!”

Damien stormed out, walking so quickly he bumped into Brigitta's shoulder.

Brigitta didn’t even look at him. “In this lifetime, I will never marry you.”

She sat down in front of the doctor. “Doctor, how’s my hand?”

The doctor sighed. “Ms. Holmund, your fingers were badly injured—down to the bone. Luckily your husband brought you in quickly. With proper care, you’ll recover.”

“My… husband?”

“That’s right. He was just here.”

Brigitta was baffled. In her other three lifetimes, she had never been involved with any man other than Damien. So, who could it have been?

Back in her ward, she picked up her phone and made a call. After only one ring, the line connected.

“Hey, I want you to help me look into someone.”

There was silence for a few seconds before a deep male voice replied. “No need. I’ll come myself.”

Within minutes, Kaspian appeared at the door.

Brigitta’s face lit up. “Kass, you’re here! Was it you who brought me to the hospital?”

Standing before her was Kapian Voss the heir of the Morvain conglomerate—her senior back when they were studying at the same college. She had always turned to him whenever she needed help. Kaspian had never failed her.

But after marrying Damien in her previous lives, she hadn’t seen Kaspian again. Now, seeing him felt like a longlost comfort.

The man sat down naturally, frowning. “I came here on business. Who hurt you? Does it still hurt?”

Brigitta had always regarded him like an elder brother. Around him, she could let down her guard and even act a little childish.

Once she processed Kaspian's words, Brigitta felt a bit sad. She nodded. “Yes, it hurts. But why were you hiding from me earlier?”

Kaspian cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Brigitta suddenly thought of something. “Kass, are you taking part in the Lost City of Thalasson Project?”

Kasspian nodded. “Give me your passport. I’ll get the arrangements done.”

Brigitta pulled out her passport and handed it to him. Turns out, their old dynamic was still there like before.

As he reached the door, he paused and turned to look at Brigitta. “I'll leave a few bodyguards here.”

Brigitta shook her head. “You know I won’t feel at ease with them around.”

After he left, Brigitta closed her eyes to rest. She had been so tired these past few days.

But peace didn’t last long. The door was suddenly slammed open.

Damien stormed in and angrily yanked Brigitta by the arm.

“You vile woman! You’ve gone so far to harm Irene? Get out with me!”

Damien grabbed Brigitta by the injured arm and dragged her toward the door.

The anesthetic had already worn off by then and the pain was searing. Brigitta struggled to break free from him. “Damien, let me go! I don’t even understand what you’re saying!”

His grip only tightened. “Still pretending, are you?”

She couldn’t break free and was half dragged towards Irene’s hospital bed. She tried to get up, but Damien soon held her down forcefully!

Irene sobbed on the bed. “Ms. Holmund, I’ve done everything I could to stay out of your way. Why would you still want to hurt me? Who else would send me seafood porridge when I’m allergic to it?”

Brigitta’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto the halffinished, stillsteaming porridge beside Irene’s bed. “That wasn’t me! Why on earth would I send you food?”

Irene pointed at her. “The order slip had your name on it!”

Damien shouted, “Apologize to Irene!”

Brigitta shook her head fiercely. “Why should I? I didn’t do it. I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do. Since when have I ever been so generous as to bring your little kept woman porridge?”

At that, Damien’s hand slipped from her back, momentarily startled by her defiance.

Irene wept harder. “The proof is right there on the receipt! Are you saying I made it up?”

Damien frowned. “Irene would never lie. You've harassed her more than once! I’ve let it go, but now you’ve gone too far. Apologize to her!”

Brigitta forced herself upright, trembling with rage. “Even if it were me—wasn’t she the one eating it? Are you saying she couldn't tell there was seafood in that bowl? I thought she knew about her own allergies!”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Irene is too trusting to suspect anyone. And with the Holmund Family’s influence, you could've put this stunt easily even when this is a big hospital!”

Her voice cut like ice. “I have no interest in investigating what your woman eats—or what else she’s allergic to!”

Damien gave a cold laugh. He snatched up the steaming bowl and poured it directly over Brigitta's head.

“You still refused to apologize right? Then you should learn your lesson another way.”

The scalding heat seared her scalp. Brigitta gasped, as the sticky broth sliding down her skin. Worse, the wound on her forehead flared with fresh pain and torn up the wound open again.

The onceproud woman, always so composed, now stood humiliated before Damien and Irene.

Irene stopped crying and watched the scene with a smug expression.

Brigitta couldn't take it anymore and raised her hand, slapping Damien hard!

Slap!

Her eyes blazed. “I warned you. And yet again, you raised your hand against me—on nothing but baseless accusations! Damien, I owe you nothing. Not even bowing to your mistress. Never!”

Damien stood frozen, clearly unprepared for her retaliation. When Brigitta swung for another slap, he caught her wrist, crushing it in his grip.

“Feel better now? Brigitta, you've got the guts to stir up problem here. I won’t let you hurt my woman and walk away without consequence. If you don’t apologize right now, I’ll end our engagement this instant.”

Brigitta couldn't even care about her current pain. Caught up in anger, she looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “Let go of me!”

Thi time, Damien immediately released her, but the force was so great that he threw her to the ground.

Humiliated, nails digging into her palms, Brigitta thought bitterly of how she should have accepted Kaspian’s offer to leave bodyguards with her.

Wiping her face—uncertain whether it was tears or porridge—she forced herself to maintain her composure.

“You don’t need to threaten me with breaking the engagement. I’ll save you the trouble. I’m done with you, Damien. I want this engagement end.”

The man frowned in response. “Don’t play this stupid push and pull game with me. It only makes me despise you more.”

He then pointed to the door, towering over her. “Get out. Don’t disturb Irene’s rest.”

Brigitta’s mouth tasted of bitterness, her heart of hate.

She straightened her spine and stared at them both down.

“Listen carefully. I will never marry you, Damien. Whatever the two of you do from now on—none of it has anything to do with me.”

Brigitta had no idea how she managed to walk out of the hospital. Despite the doctor’s repeated warnings, she insisted on signing her own discharge papers.

She sent Kaspian a message, telling him she had matters to settle first and that they could meet up afterward. The last thing she wanted was for anyone she knew to see her in such a messy state.

So, she hailed a cab and went straight home.

Standing under the showerhead, letting the water pour down her body, Brigitta replayed what had just happened. She still couldn’t believe it—was Damien really unable to see through Irene’s cheap lies?

No. He simply didn’t want Irene to feel guilty.

Brigitta looked at her bandaged hand and forehead. Just like in her past lives, whenever Damien and Irene were involved, she ended up covered in injuries. This time, she decided to leave first thing in the morning and rejoin her expedition team earlier than planned.

The next morning, Brigitta carefully cleaned her wounds and dressed herself properly.

Before leaving, she planned to visit the Arkwright mansion. She intended to return the family’s heirloom—the emerald bracelet Lena had personally entrusted to her—and to formally announce that their wedding was off.

The bracelet had been passed down for generations; only the Arkwrights’ daughterinlaw was allowed to wear it. According to the press, it was worth billions.

But before Brigitta even opened the door, movers were already hauling in crates of supplements, health tonics and specialty foods.

She froze in confusion, just as Damien walked in arminarm with Irene. They eventually stopped and got face to face with Brigitta at the entrance.

“So much for saying you wouldn’t marry me. Why are you still here? You're just putting on a show.”

Brigitta sighed. “Damien, this place was bought by both our families. It’s not just yours. I’m not squatting in your home—this is my home, too.”

Her eyes caught on his hand resting gently on Irene’s stomach. The sight made her pause.

Then Damien’s gaze shifted to the bag slung over her shoulder. “Where are you going with that?”

“None of your business,” Brigitta said flatly.

The man ignored her tone and went on casually, “Irene’s pregnant. She can’t stay elsewhere anymore—she needs to be here to rest. You can pack your things and move into the guest room.”

Irene placed her hand over his. “Ms. Holmund, I should really thank you. If you hadn’t frightened me into fainting and ending up in the hospital, I wouldn’t have found out I was carrying Damien’s child.”

She buried her face against his chest, their intimacy felt sickeningly sweet.

Brigitta had anticipated the news from their gestures, but hearing it confirmed still struck her.

Irene actually got pregnant. In all her past lives, this had never happened. Still, none of it mattered anymore.

Brigitta turned to leave. “Do whatever you want. I’m already moving out.”

Damien grabbed her arm and frowned. “Moving out? No one asked you to leave. I just said to clear out your things for Irene’s sake. She’s frail, she needs someone to look after her. You’ll take care of her during the pregnancy.”

Brigitta gave a bitter laugh. “Me? Take care of your mistress? Why on earth would I do that?”

“I won't give her a title,” Damien said, “but the child will have one. My heir, an Arkwright. And if it bothers you, I’ll give you a child too—but we’ll claim it’s illegitimate. I won’t let Irene’s child have to share its inheritance.”

Tears welled in Irene’s eyes as she clung to him.

“Damien… you’re so good to me. I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Brigitta sneered. “Then go ahead and keep having them. But not with me. We’ll never have children together. And I’m certainly not going to nurse her through a pregnancy. I’m leaving.”

As she reached for the door handle, Irene noticed the heirloom emerald bracelet on Brigitta's wrist.

“Damien! Look at her bracelet—I want it! It’s beautiful,” Irene turned to Damien.

Without hesitation, Damien pulled out his phone, activating the mansion's remote locks. “Irene likes it. Take it off. Consider it a gift to the child.”

Brigitta stared at him in disbelief. “Damien, that bracelet is your family’s heirloom! It’s not something you just hand over!”

He dismissed her. “It’s just an object. My mother gave it to you, why shouldn’t Irene have it? Don’t pretend this isn’t about the title it represents. Take it off yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

Brigitta didn’t want him touching her. Without another word, she slid the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Irene.

Irene’s face lit up, but the next it got twisted with malice. She intentionally loosened her grip. As a result, the emerald bracelet shattered against the floor.

Irene ducked behind Damien, tears brimming again. “Ms. Holmund, if you didn’t want to give it to me, you don't have to smash it out of spite!”

Brigitta stared at the fragments on the ground—the very last tie she had to Damien.

Slap!

Damien’s palm struck her face.

“So petty. You’d rather destroy it than give it to her? You’ll pay for this. I'll sue the Holmunds!”

Brigitta’s face burned with pain. She covered her cheek with her injured hand, but Damien grabbed it all of the sudden. Then, another agonizing pain ripped through her already torn wound.

“Irene said that you just scraped your fingers, stop acting, Brigitta! Stay here and serve Irene. You're not allowed to go anywhere else!”

A bitter laugh rose in Brigitta’s chest. She rushed into the living room, grabbed a fruit knife and aimed it at both of them. “Damien, let me out, or else… I’ll go down with you both.”

Her sudden defiance stunned him. Damien hesitated before pulling out his phone and unlocked the door.

Brigitta left and went straight to the Arkwright mansion, to meet Lucien and Lena—Damien's parents. She returned the agreements she had once signed—in which she was granted the shares in Arkwright Corp. and to terminate all financial ties with the Arkwrights.

Both Lucien and Lena were stunned by that. They immediately ordered their butler to investigate the matter thoroughly. Half an hour later, the butler returned and recounted everything he had heard from Damien’s bodyguard.

Lucien slammed the table so hard it shook. “That ungrateful son! He's so obsessed with that woman he's lost his mind—even treating marriage like a joke!”

Lena gently stroked Brigitta's head, looking at the bruises on her forehead and palms with heartbreak. She wiped away her tears. “Gitta, my poor child... Look at you—is your arm alright?”

Brigitta's nose grew a bit stuffy. Lucien and Lena had watched her grow up and the two of them had taken such good care of her, even more so than her own father. In her past lives, even after marrying Damien, they had never let her suffer. They had always protected her.

Lucien picked up his phone and dialed Damien’s number.

“I’ll drag that boy here myself and make him apologize! And he’ll take that woman to terminate the pregnancy. A child born of seduction and betrayal will never be recognized by the Arkwrights!” he said angrily.

But after several attempts, no one answered. Just then, Brigitta's phone rang—it was Damien calling. She accidentally pressed the speakerphone button when answering it.

On the other end, Damien sounded furious. “Brigitta, do you have no shame? You walk out on me one second and the next you’re running to my parents to tattle?"

"Irene’s pregnant—I’m already overwhelmed and instead of helping, you stir up trouble. Since your little pushandpull games failed, now you’re hiding behind my parents? Pathetic!”

Lucien snatched the phone, roaring into it. “You ungrateful wretch! Try speaking to Gitta like that again! What’s this about the wedding being canceled? What's the deal with 'this' pregnancy? Get here now and explain yourself, or you’re no son of mine! I’ll name another heir!”

Brigitta didn’t want to stay there any longer. She thanked Lucien and Lena and said she didn’t need or accept Damien’s apology. Still, they insisted she stay.

Soon Damien arrived, clearly irritated. “Father, Mother, what is this about? I'm really busy right now.”

Lucien slammed the table again, pointing at him with disappointment. “Apologize to Gitta!”

Damien glanced at Brigitta. “She’s the one who keeps targeting my woman. Why should I apologize?”

Brigitta sighed. She no longer wanted to say anything to Damien.

Lucien’s rage boiled over. “Why? Because she is the only woman this family will ever recognize as an Arkwright. She is your wife. And this is how you treat her?"

"End your affair, take that woman for an abortion. We will never acknowledge her bastard. Don’t force me to deal with it myself!”

Damien’s brows knitted tight. “Father, that’s your grandchild. I’ll make sure Irene’s baby is born safely.”

His eyes went glacial as he looked at Brigitta. “If you try to harm her, I’ll make sure your socalled ‘perfect daughterinlaw’ suffers a fate worse than death.”

Just then, his phone rang. He answered, went in panic and spun toward the door.

Lucien barked, “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Damien’s eyes were bloodshot. He didn’t look at his father but glared squarely on Brigitta instead. “Irene tried to kill herself!”

Brigitta’s mind went blank.

So it had come early this time. In her past lives, Irene’s suicide had always come later—after the wedding.

Could it be that she doomed to repeat this cycle no matter what she did?

After Damien stormed out, Brigitta too left the Arkwright mansion.

She had made an appointment with Kaspian at the airport. Although still early, unease gnawed at her, so she hailed a taxi and went ahead to wait.

Everything in this lifetime had unfolded so suddenly. Still, at least Irene’s attempt came before the wedding. This time, no one could pin it on her.

Exhausted, Brigitta leaned against the taxi's window and closed her eyes to rest.

Suddenly the driver jerked the wheel. Brigitta was thrown hard against the front seat.

“Bang!”

Another car slammed into them. The taxi spun, flipped several times and crashed onto the asphalt with a deafening thud.

Pain exploded through her chest and stomach. Dizziness engulfed her and blurred her vision blurred.

It hurt... God, it hurt so much.

But she couldn’t let herself die here.

With everything she had, she forced her eyes open, smashed her fist against the shattered glass and dragged her injured body out of the car.

And then she saw someone walking toward her.

It was Damien.

Brigitta reached out, trying to clutch Damien’s trousers.

“Help me…” She felt her ribs were broken and even breathing caused her pain.

Damien crouched in front of her, looking down at Brigitta coldly and grabbed her chin with his hand. “Where did you hide Irene? Speak!”

The pain forced tears from her eyes. Weakly, she whispered, “I didn’t… I didn’t hide her.”

Damien’s rage boiled over. “Still denying it? Irene’s last call for help said her kidnappers were your people. She tried to kill herself because they forced her!"

"How could you be so cruel? You're trying to take her life too?" He then barked an order, "One of you come here! Tie her up!”

Brigitta couldn't understand... why did things came early in this lifetime? Why she still couldn't escape the effect of Irene’s suicide attempt?

Her body ached unbearably and her old wounds had reopened and were bleeding continuously. Brigitta looked at Damien with plea. “Please... take me to the hospital. I need treatment.”

Damien shoved her hand away as she grabbed for his arm, brushing his sleeve as though she dirtied it.

“Unless you tell me where Irene is, I’ll let you die right here before I ever take you to a hospital.”

Blackclad bodyguards closed in. Their leader bowed nervously.

“Sir Damien… if Sir Lucien finds out we staged this car accident, we’ll all be finished. And if we’re seen abducting Miss Brigitta, the Holmund Family won’t stand for it—”

Damien glared at the man angrily. “Shut up. I'll protect you no matter what happens. Do as I say!”

The others dared not say another word and dragged Brigitta to her feet.

“Don’t… touch me!”

Brigitta despised the touch of strangers, let alone several unfamiliar men. A sense of humiliation spread throughout her body.

Damien saw the reaction and stepped closer to grab her by the throat.

“Why act so delicate now, Gitta? When you staged that crash and kidnapped Irene, did you even think about this? You’ve got scratches at most, while she’s out there suffering God knows what.”

Damien ordered his men to tie her up, gag her and throw her into the back of the truck. The vehicle soon sped down the road.

Brigitta fought nausea, her tears blurring with despair. She prayed—prayed that someone would come for her.

After what felt like hours, the car screeched to a stop in front of an old and worn warehouse.

She was dragged out of the car. The pain in her body made it impossible for her to walk and she fell directly to the ground. The motion made her stomach churn violently and she vomited.

Damien got out of his car and stepped back in disgust when he saw that.

“You're putting quite the performance! But unless you tell me where Irene is, I don’t care how pitiful you act—you’re not leaving this place.”

They dragged her inside the warehouse. Her legs scraped against the concrete until they bled.

"I might die here," Brigitta mouthed in despair.

Damien took out his phone and threw it on the ground. “Call your people and tell them to release Irene and we’ll trade with you."

He added, "Do it quick! She’s pregnant! If anything happens to her or the baby, I won’t spare you.”

Brigitta trembled as she picked up the phone from the ground and dialed the familiar number.

After a few rings, a deep male voice answered. “Who is this?”

The moment the call connected, a sob escaped her lips, “Kass, save me...”

Before she could finish, Damien ripped the phone from her hand and smashed it on the floor. “Who was that?!”

Brigitta glared at him in silence, hatred burned in her eyes.

His vision reddened with fury. He loomed over her, pointing at the shattered phone. “Tell me who he is! You've hooked up with someone else so quickly? Brigitta, you never cease to disgust me.”

Damien lashed out at the silence. He kicked over a nearby motorbike with a crash. “Not saying anything, are you? Then we’ll just wait here!”

Time passed slowly and Brigitta felt her life slipping away.

She suddenly thought of the unfinished business from her three lifetimes, the dreams she had pursued.

She truly wanted to explore the Lost City Thalasson herself, to witness that ancient civilizaiton, to leave her mark in history.

It felt quite frustrating…

At that moment, Brigitta coughed up another mouthful of blood.

He stood up and walked toward Brigitta, his hand about to touch her, when he was interrupted by his men’s voice.

“Sir Damien! We found Ms. Kemmer!”

A guard rushed in, breathless. “She’s shaken and twisted her ankle. Should we take her to the hospital?”

Damien’s head snapped up. He strode away instantly. “Everyone, follow me and save Irene. Now!”

The guard hesitated. “But, sir… Miss Holmund looks gravely injured. Sir Lucien values her so much, shouldn’t we take her to a hospital too?”

Damien glanced back at Brigitta, who was lying on the ground, bound and gagged.

“She won’t die. Leave her here. Let her learn her lesson,” he said coldly.

Moments later, the engines outside the warehouse roared to life. The convoy pulled away and silence swallowed the warehouse.

Brigitta didn’t even have the strength to get up. She crawled toward the phone Damien had thrown to the ground, but it was already broken.

At that moment, a few drunks carrying beer bottles passed by. They saw the barely conscious Brigitta.

“Damn, there’s a person lying here—a woman!”

One of the drunks stumbled over to her, drunkenly examining her face. “Guys, this woman is really pretty!”

“We’ve hit the jackpot today! Let’s have some fun with her.” After saying that, one of the drunken men began to take off his pants.

They ripped at her clothes. Brigitta fought with the last of her strength against them.

One man yanked her hair, slapping her hard. “Just stay still, bitch, or I’ll kill you!”

Her blouse tore apart. She screamed in humiliation, wildly waving her hands to protect herself and closed her eyes in despair.

Bang!

A gunshot. Then a man’s agonizing screams.