Even if the sun is hidden by clouds, dawn will eventually break, piercing the darkness with its most brilliant light.

Just like the rest of her life.

Meanwhile.

Julian stood in a perfectly tailored suit, holding a bouquet, watching Clarissa walk toward him with a smile.

But despite the joyous occasion, he couldn't shake a strange, suffocating sense of panic rising in his chest.

He suppressed the emotion and, following the ceremony, took Clarissa’s hand to slide the ring onto her finger.

But in the next instant.

The hotel doors slowly swung open, and a stark white object appeared before the crowd.

As the guests realized what it was, a collective gasp filled the room.

It was a coffin—pure, clinical white.

Julian was the first to react, his voice exploding in rage.

"Who allowed you in here? Someone! Get this coffin and these people out of here!"

The staff member standing by the coffin didn't move. Instead, he stepped forward and spoke respectfully.

"Mr. Sterling, this is a gift of atonement from Ms. Vance."

Ms. Vance... A gift...

Could Seraphina be inside that coffin?

The thought sent a wave of inexplicable dread through him—a possibility he had never dared to imagine.

But the feeling was fleeting. He let out a cold laugh, convinced he understood the game.

"Seraphina Vance, what kind of trick is this now? Faking your death to stop my wedding to Clara? I’m telling you, I will never marry you."

He strode toward the coffin, already planning how he would punish her this time.

But the cold, mocking smile on his face died the moment he saw the pale, water-bloated body lying inside.

The staff member spoke with a mournful tone.

"Ms. Vance was found drowned at the coast this morning. The police have ruled it a suicide."

The murmurs of the guests, the staff's condolences, and Clarissa’s panicked cries all faded away. The sounds felt distant, as if muffled by a thick shroud.

The only thing he could hear was the frantic, terrifying thrum of his own heart.

He didn't know why he felt this way, or why tears were suddenly streaming down his face. He only knew that the pain in his chest made it almost impossible to breathe.

Julian instinctively reached out. The moment his fingers touched the icy skin of her face.

The memories he had suppressed, the past he had locked away, burst through the gates like a flood, completely submerging him.

Every moment with Seraphina—the beautiful memories they shared—played back in his mind with terrifying clarity.

He remembered. He remembered it all.

Chapter 8

The Seraphina Vance in his memories merged with the unrecognizable body in the coffin. Julian’s vacant pupils slowly focused on her bloated face.

Because she had been in the sea for so long, her features were blurred and decaying, her body swollen beyond recognition.

How could this be his Sera?

She was so afraid of the water; every time they went to the beach, she had to hold his hand tightly. How could this be her?

He tried to lie to himself, but when his eyes caught the tattoo on her collarbone, his brain exploded with a roar. The world went silent, replaced by the thundering of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears.

He had the exact same tattoo on his own collarbone.

At that moment, the staff member stepped forward, each word stabbing into his heart like an icicle.

"Mr. Sterling, we have delivered the body as Ms. Vance instructed. Regarding the remaining arrangements, do you require..."

Before he could finish, Julian grabbed him by the collar and hurled him to the ground.

"Shut up!" Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice filled with a lethal, destructive rage. "Who said she’s dead? she isn't dead! She’s fine—she’s just sleeping!"

He knelt beside the coffin, his hands trembling as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, treating her like a fragile treasure.

"Sera, you’re okay. Let’s go home. Everything will be fine once we’re home."

Ignoring the horrified stares of the guests, Julian lifted Seraphina’s body into his arms and turned to leave.

Clarissa, clutching her gown, ran after him and grabbed his sleeve.

"Julian! Where are you going? Today is our wedding! Are you going to leave me here alone?"

Clarissa spoke with her usual fragility, but this time, she wasn't met with comfort. She was met with a look of pure, frigid loathing.

"I’m not leaving."

The first half of his sentence was a sweet lie; the second half was a lethal poison that condemned everything Clarissa had done over the years.

"This wedding is going to be your funeral. If you want to live, never let me see your face again."

With that, he walked out of the wedding hall with Seraphina in his arms, never looking back.

Clarissa stared at his retreating back, her nails digging into her palms until they bled.

Where did it go wrong? Why... why did Julian react this way to Seraphina’s corpse?

But she quickly tried to rationalize it.

It didn't matter. Seraphina was dead. Even if Julian remembered everything, it was useless. A dead person couldn't fight back. She was still the only Mrs. Sterling.

The wedding ended in a farce. That night, the news of Julian Sterling abandoning his bride topped every social media chart.

The Sterling Group worked through the night, leaking scandals about other celebrities to bury the story.

Upon returning to the estate, Julian spent a fortune to have a cold room built overnight. He placed Seraphina’s body inside.

Then, he ordered the servants to throw out everything belonging to Clarissa. He restored the entire villa to exactly how it was when he and Seraphina were together.

When it was done, he knelt before her body, his fingers tracing her features with terrifying tenderness. Beneath his calm exterior lay a love that had tipped into madness.

"Don't worry, Sera. Once you're better, I’ll marry you. My heart belongs only to you."

Chapter 9

As if to prove his sincerity, Julian summoned every servant in the villa. Standing them in a row, he commanded that from this day forward, they were to address her as "Madam."

The servants exchanged uneasy glances. Seeing their CEO display such overflowering tenderness toward a corpse filled them with terror. Furthermore, since the room had been converted into a low-temperature chamber, everyone’s hair stood on end, their skin crawling with goosebumps.

A newly hired servant whispered softly, "But isn't Ms. Vance already dead?"

Before the words fully left their mouth, the person was slammed violently against the wall.

Julian reached out and gripped the servant’s throat with lethal strength. The aura of coldness radiating from him was bone-chilling, making him look like a vengeful wraith from hell.

"Say another word, and I will have your tongue removed."

Witnessing Julian’s madness, the rest of the servants dared not speak another word. They bowed their heads toward the body and shouted, "Madam!"

When Julian’s close friend, Silas Moore, arrived at the villa, this was the macabre scene he encountered.

"Julian, have you lost your mind?" Silas shouted, his voice laced with horror. He opened his mouth to say more but fell silent when he met Julian’s frigid, warning gaze.

He and Julian had grown up together and knew each other inside out. He knew about the years Julian and Seraphina had spent supporting one another, and he knew about Julian’s sudden change of heart. He had assumed Julian was simply fickle, but now it seemed there was more to the story.

Seeing that Julian was mentally unstable, Silas spent hours coaxing and persuading him until he finally managed to get him drunk. He then had Julian moved overnight to the Moore family’s top private hospital.

The doctors performed a deep brain scan and were shocked to find that the primary personality, which had supposedly vanished, had now completely regained control of the dominant consciousness. In fact, the sub-personality was showing signs of merging into the primary one.

When Julian woke up, the image of Seraphina in his mind became even clearer. He struggled to get out of bed, desperate to go home and see her.

Seeing that his friend was still not thinking clearly, Silas blocked his path and roared at him.

"Julian, wake up! Seraphina Vance is dead! She committed suicide! Stop lying to yourself!"

Julian’s response was a heavy fist to Silas’s face.

"Sera isn't dead. If you speak such nonsense again, our brotherhood ends here."

The two men stood in a tense standoff, the air thick with invisible smoke.

Just then, the lead physician stepped out, placing a thick stack of reports and files in front of Julian.

"Our examination shows that three years ago, your primary personality was forcibly stripped away using an extremely covert method. Fortunately, your willpower is exceptionally strong. Although it appeared to be erased, it actually remained hidden in the deepest recesses of your mind. It only regained control of the body after you suffered a massive psychological blow. In other words, as of right now, your primary personality holds the majority of your consciousness."