Lawson Price finally stopped.

He looked down at the wet patch on Damon Meyer’s trousers and then at his face—a map of absolute, shattered humiliation. A sneer, cold and undisguised, flickered in Lawson’s eyes.

He slowly withdrew the dagger and straightened up, pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands.

He glanced at the bodyguards. "Get him to the hospital. Treat him well. And make sure to take a few photos of his current state. Send them to Albert Meyer. Tell him this is the Spencer heir's first 'gift' to the Meyer family."

"Understood."

The bodyguards moved in, dragging the broken, sobbing Damon away like a bag of trash.

Olivia Hayes watched the whole thing. It wasn't just physical revulsion; it was a psychological hammer blow.

She stood frozen, watching Ethan Spencer walk away, paralyzed by her own confusion.

Lawson stepped toward her, his gaze sharp and icy. "Ms. Hayes, I hope you understand: debts to the Spencer heir don’t go unpaid. You’d best watch your step from here on out."

The silence in the luxury apartment was suffocating.

Olivia slumped to the floor, her clothes clinging to her, damp with cold sweat.

Her makeup was a ruin, streaked and smudged. She had never felt this pathetic, this undone.

The air still reeked of blood. Her stomach churned with bile, dry heaves racking her frame, but nothing came up.

The Spencer heir...

Five years of marriage, and she hadn't had a clue who he actually was!

Regret, sharp as a rusted blade, sliced through her chest.

Why had she been so blind? Why hadn't she seen him for what he was? And why, in God’s name, had she bullied him?

She had even stood by while Damon degraded him, while he hurt him.

It was all too late. There was no going back.

Olivia sat in the dark, pain pulsing from her very core.

She remembered the moment she first saw Ethan—it was love at first sight.

Back then, she had been reeling from Damon’s betrayal, and her family’s hotel business was hitting a wall. She had wanted this man—clean, talented, and seemingly so easy to control—to be her husband.

She had used him as a pawn, a safety net, convinced she held all the cards.

Over these five years, she had actually fallen for him.

But that love had been smothered, twisted by the complicated pull of Damon coming back into her life. She had assumed Ethan loved her enough to tolerate anything, assuming that even if she played games with Damon, Ethan would never leave.

She had been dead wrong.

"I was such a fool."

Olivia’s eyes were bloodshot, her chest aching with a hollow, suffocating emptiness.

She forced herself to move, her limbs stiff and unresponsive. She clawed at the wall to pull herself up and stared into the mirror. She tried to smile, but it looked like a grotesque grimace.

"Olivia Hayes, this is just your karma."

The next day, she stood outside the Spencer estate.

She was dressed in a pristine, champagne-colored suit, her face meticulously made up, her heart hammering against her ribs.

After a quick check-in, the housekeeper led her to the gazebo in the garden.

Ethan walked toward her. He wore a simple white button-down, his gaze cold enough to freeze blood.

"Something you need?"

Olivia’s heart contracted. Her voice felt thin and strained. "Ethan... I’m here to apologize."

Ethan stared at her, saying nothing.

"I was wrong about everything. I hurt you."

Every word felt like needles pressed into her heart. "I shouldn't have treated you that way. I shouldn't have let Damon... I know it’s too late to say these things, but I am so sorry."

She looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, pleading. "Can you forgive me? Can we start over? I’ll change anything. I’ll make it up to you—if you’d just give me one more chance..."

"Will you come back to South City with me?"