In an instant, the veins in Julian’s forehead bulged, disbelieving:

"What did you say!"

He clenched his fists and demanded sternly:

"When was it donated! How could there be no medical records? Didn't I have you check before?"

The person on the phone apologized repeatedly.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. We only checked records from regular hospitals before and didn't find any record of her undergoing a donation surgery, so we presumed her eye was lost due to an accident."

"This time, in order to find a suitable transplant match, we expanded the scope of our investigation."

"We discovered that seven years ago, at a small underground medical facility in Jiang City, she underwent an eye donation surgery."

"Because it was an underground facility and the surgery was illegal, it wasn't registered in the national network, which is why we didn't find it at first..."

Julian was left speechless.

A soul-piercing suspicion rose in his heart.

His voice was terrifyingly hoarse:

"Whose eye was it donated to?"

The person on the other end said: "We can't find the specific recipient; we can only trace that the eyeball was sent to the Jiang City First Hospital..."

Instantly, a deafening thunderous roar echoed in Julian’s ears.

He subconsciously raised his hand and touched his own left eye.

Many times, he had looked at himself in the mirror.

This left eye had always given him an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

It turned out that it had come from the lover he had once spent every day and night with.

Julian’s heart trembled violently, and scenes of the past flashed through his mind.

He shook his head, his eyes dazed, muttering to himself:

"I don't understand... why? Why would she do this?"

Loving him so much, yet pushing him away time and time again.

Tormented, Julian dialed Clara’s number.

However, he dialed again and again, but no one answered, leaving only the sound of a dial tone.

...

Meanwhile, Clara turned off her phone screen, ignoring the incessant, frantic ringing.

With great difficulty, she picked up a gasoline drum and doused the entire villa.

On the bed in the guest room lay a prepared corpse, meant to serve as her decoy.

From this moment on, the person known as Clara Vance would cease to exist in this world.

She took out a lighter and set the villa’s curtains ablaze.

...

Looking at the unreachable phone, Julian was suddenly gripped by an indescribable sense of unease.

He grabbed his car keys and bolted to the garage.

Deep in the night, his vehicle shot out like an arrow released from a string.

At this moment, he cared about nothing else.

He only wanted to find her, lock her in his arms, and demand to know: what had happened in all these years?

As long as she gave him one word, no matter what she said, he would believe it; whatever she had done, he would be willing to forgive.

As the car drew closer and closer to the villa, he rounded a corner only to see a towering pillar of fire at the end of the road.

Julian’s heart jolted, and he drove frantically toward the scene.

At the end of the road, the mansion he had spent four years meticulously crafting—the place he called home—was engulfed in raging flames, the sky painted red by the soaring fire.

Chapter 11

Julian’s heart was like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Facing the raging fire, anger and despair intertwined, causing him to lose his reason instantly. Ignoring his own life, he rushed toward the fire.

However, before he could cross the police line, he was intercepted: "This is a fire scene, unauthorized personnel must leave immediately!"

"This is my house! My wife might still be inside!"

With a ferocious look, he stubbornly tried to force his way into the fire.

But several firefighters held his shoulders firmly, forcefully restraining him.

Just then, the house let out a deafening roar.

Julian looked up abruptly and watched as the entire mansion collapsed in an instant.

The fire soared high with the wind, and a wave of heat swept toward him.

"Quick, set up a containment line; don't let the wind fuel the fire, or the whole street will burn!"

More fire trucks flooded the street.

Julian was dragged away and handcuffed to a fire truck.

"Final warning! Do not attempt to enter the fire again! You aren't saving anyone; you're just getting in our way!"

Julian watched as the mansion he had put his heart and soul into turned into a pile of ruins.

In an instant, countless memories rushed in like a tide, nearly drowning him.

This was a famous Western-style villa district in Jiang City, with distinctive architecture and several former celebrity residences.

When they were dating, he and Clara often walked in the nearby garden area.

She once sat under a wisteria swing and said to him: "It would be wonderful if we could live here someday. A small house, a swing, and in the summer, we could drink tea and watch the stars in the yard together."

After he struck it rich, he had painstakingly bought the villa from a diplomat, renovating and rebuilding it.

In countless midnight dreams, he had imagined living in this house with her.

Now, this house, which contained so much of his hard work and held so many of his memories, had been destroyed in a single blaze.

After the building collapsed, the fire continued to spread, and firefighting efforts remained difficult.

Because the house was a renovated Western-style building from the 1920s and 30s, the preserved historical features also made it highly flammable.

Julian didn't sleep all night, calling Clara countless times until his phone died.

Looking at the black screen, he prayed silently in his heart:

Clara, please, I beg you, don't be in that villa.

Go anywhere, do anything, just don't stay there...

However, the iron fist of fate did not show him mercy because of his prayers.

Under the collapsed ruins, a charred female corpse was excavated.

Julian took only one look, his legs going weak, his heart turning to ash.

He knelt on the ground, his lips trembling: "Clara..."

...

Meanwhile, at the Jiang City ferry terminal, Clara boarded a support cargo ship.

Her superior handed her new identification papers and exhorted her:

"Clara, this mission is extremely dangerous; be careful."

Clara nodded and accepted the identification.

The ship left the port, heading toward the distance.

Standing at the bow, she looked at the city that was becoming smaller and smaller, silently murmuring in her heart:

Julian Sterling, this time, it really is goodbye.

Goodbye.

Never to meet again.

Chapter 12

Galaxy Star Bay, 8:00 AM.

Selene Hart, wearing pink silk pajamas, lounged lazily on the leather sofa.

She opened the wine cabinet, slowly uncorked a bottle of Romanée-Conti, and poured it into a wine glass after letting it breathe.

The maid had prepared an exquisite breakfast and placed it quietly on the table. Seeing the bottle of wine priced at 130,000, she couldn't help but gasp.

"Should I prepare breakfast for Mr. Sterling?" the maid asked softly.

This sentence was like a fuse, instantly igniting the resentment Selene had been suppressing all night.

She jumped up, smashed the wine glass in her hand onto the floor, and glass shards flew in every direction.

"What do you mean? Are you trying to humiliate me? He didn't come back last night—are you blind?"

She crowded the maid, the anger in her eyes seeming as if it would burn the entire dining room down.

Memories surfaced.

Last night should have been a romantic moment shared between her and Julian.

She had meticulously cleaned herself in the bathroom, put on a newly bought nightgown, and sprayed the same perfume he had once given to Clara.

She was determined to replace Clara and occupy a place in his heart.

However, when she emerged from the bathroom, only an empty bedroom awaited her.

Downstairs, the roar of a sports car shattered the silence; she screamed and ran out, calling his name loudly: "Julian! Julian!"

But he did not hear her calling, nor did the vehicle stop for her.

Returning to the villa, the strange looks from the servants made her feel incredibly humiliated, her cheeks burning instantly.

She could almost hear the servants mocking her internally:

【Another "Mrs. Sterling" brought home as an ornament; she actually thought she was lucky enough to fly up a branch and become a phoenix.】

【This wife is no different from the last one...】

Clara hadn't cared about outsiders' opinions, because it was never Julian who was cold to her, but her being cold to Julian.

However, for Selene, these intangible shames were unbearable.

Julian’s disregard and the strange looks from the servants made her heart ache as if pricked by needles.

This pain, after brewing for a night, was like an exploding cannonball, ignited.

She grabbed the maid’s hair and shoved the slightly built woman hard.