Chapter 6

The moment the crash happened, Cyril instinctively lunged forward to shield Anna. When Trisha forced her heavy eyelids open, this was the first thing she saw. Her body slammed violently against the car window, and the sharp glass split open her forehead. Her face twisted in pain, and choked whimpers of agony escaped her throat as she trembled all over. Blood gushed down, staining her vision red before everything began fading to black. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Cyril lifting Anna into his arms. The car door opened and closed, and the two of them disappeared from view, leaving only the flickering orange flames dancing in the corners of her vision. When she woke up, Trisha found herself in the hospital. She drew in a breath, and pain tore through her head like it was splitting apart. The nurse patted her chest and mumbled as she changed the dressing. "You lost so much blood that you almost didn't make it. Your boyfriend was frantic—he called in blood donations from across the city and gave plenty himself. Only then were we able to save you." Trisha froze at these words. Just then, Cyril walked in. His face was as expressionless as ever, and his voice was devoid of concern. "You're awake. Should I call the doctor?" Upon seeing his indifference, Trisha found it hard to believe he was the same person the nurse had described. She opened her chapped lips and asked hoarsely, "The nurse said you donated blood to save me?" A flicker of discomfort crossed Cyril's eyes before he replied coldly, "If I hadn't, you would've died. I'm just repaying you for all the money you've spent on me over the years. Don't read too much into it." So, he only did it to repay a debt. That made sense. "Okay. In that case, we no longer owe each other anything. Let's call it even." The way she sounded determined to distance herself from him left Cyril feeling inexplicably panicked. He looked at her frail figure, recalling her drunken words outside the bar. His expression darkened. "Call it even? I saved your life—that settled my debt. But what about the suffering you've put me through all these years? How are you going to make it up to me?" he retorted. Trisha found Cyril increasingly incomprehensible—on one hand, he wanted to run from the wedding and break free from her control, yet the moment she calmly suggested they part on good terms, he started demanding payback. She thought carefully over the past four years. Aside from the hurt to his pride whenever she transferred money to him or brought up the arrangement, she couldn't think of any real damage she had done to him. Could it be that what he truly resented was how she had come between him and Anna, separating the two lovers? No matter how she looked at it, that seemed to be the only logical explanation. After much deliberation, she finally made up her mind to lay it all out—to tell him she was canceling the wedding and setting him free. But just as she was about to speak, Anna entered with a tearful apology. "Ms. Newton, I'm so sorry. I got distracted while driving and caused the accident. This has nothing to do with Cyril. If you want to blame someone, blame me." The very next second, Cyril, who had just been wearing a stone-cold expression, softened visibly upon seeing her. "It wasn't your fault. I'll handle this." Then, he turned to look at Trisha, his tone changing. "Anna only got her license a few months ago. I didn't want to drink and drive, so I gave her the keys. She was hurt badly too. If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't bully Anna." When she saw how quick he was to defend her, Trisha stayed silent for a moment. Then, unable to hold back, she asked plainly, "When have I ever bullied her?"