Because she had been in his house, slept in his bed, he found it filthy—so filthy that he couldn't bear a single moment more. He had torn everything out at once, stripped the place of every trace she'd left behind.
How had they come to this?
There was a time she had naively believed—foolishly convinced—that he might have felt something for her too. When she rushed out of the airport gates and into his arms, and he hadn't pushed her away. When she clung to his back on his bike, her hands daringly circling his waist, and he hadn't said a word. When he tutored her late into the night, and she stole a kiss while he dozed off, only for him to wake and pull her in for one of his own. When she covered his eyes from behind and he guessed wrong on purpose, then kissed her hand in quiet amusement.
Moments like those had made her believe.
Until Lydia had appeared, fingers laced with his, smiling as she announced to Elena's face that they were together. That was when Elena realized just how laughably wrong she had been.
And now… now it cut deeper than ever.
Because of Lydia, he loathed her so much that even the air she had breathed in his home made him sick? So much that he would rather raze the place than suffer her shadow lingering there?
Staring at the wreckage before her, her heart bled—drop by drop, spreading through every vein until her voice broke out in a trembling whisper.
"Don't… don't tear it down…"
"What?" the foreman frowned. "What did you say, miss?"
"Don't tear it down! Don't tear it down!"
She lunged like a woman gone mad, yanking at the workers swinging their hammers. "Stop! Stop, I beg you, stop tearing it down!"
"Miss, don't make trouble here, or I'll throw you out myself!"
"Please—I'm begging you!" She clutched the broken wall, tears spilling uncontrollably. Her wail rose raw from her chest, shattering the air. "Lucian, please! Stop stabbing me in the heart! Let me go! Just kill me instead!"
The foreman had been ready to drag her out, but the sheer devastation in her cries froze him in place. He had never seen a young woman weep so helplessly, so hopelessly, as though the world itself had abandoned her.
By the time Elena staggered out of the apartment, the sun was already sinking low. The heat outside pressed down, but she felt nothing but cold, a chill burrowed into her bones.
Her stomach twisted heavy and hollow—days of barely eating catching up with her. Her vision blurred. She dumped the groceries she had bought into the trash bin downstairs and drifted out of the complex on unsteady feet.
Lucian's renovations would take months. Newly renovated homes were never moved into right away. Which meant… he hadn't only cast her out as unclean—he had deliberately made sure she'd have no excuse to ever come back, no chance to beg, no way to plead for her brother's life.
Her calls were blocked. His company had four separate entrances; she couldn't even wait for him. And if he switched cars, she'd never recognize him. Where could she go? Where else could she find him?
She wandered aimlessly. The sky deepened, neon lights flickered alive, painting the night beautiful and poisonous all at once. Every step she took felt like her veins were filling with venom.
A sharp horn blared. "Beep—beep!"
"Elena!"
The voice jolted her back. She turned, dazed, to see Ethan grinning, waving her over from his car. "Don't just stand there! Get in!"
She pressed her lips together, climbed into the passenger seat. As she fumbled with the seatbelt, Ethan dashed back from the driver's side, nearly tripping in his rush.
"What's wrong with you? I must've called out a dozen times—you were like a ghost out there."
"I'm fine…"
Ethan gave her a long look. "Elena, what happened with you and Lucian? You've been off these past few days. Don't tell me nothing's wrong."
At the sound of that name, she flinched. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ethan… I want to see Lucian. Can you help me again?"
His expression wavered, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Elena, God knows I want to. I swear I do. But after last time—after I gave you that key—Lucian nearly strangled me. He warned me: if I helped you again, we'd be done as brothers."
"I know," she murmured, exhaustion bleeding into her tone. "I won't trouble you again."
She hadn't expected otherwise. Still, she had clung to that final thread of hope. And just like that, it snapped.
Ethan caught the shadow falling over her eyes. Guilt stabbed deeper, so he forced a laugh. "Hey—if you want, I can let you use my phone. Lucian will always pick up my calls. You can talk to him that way."
She shook her head. "No… it won't matter. He'll hang up the second he hears my voice."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Ethan sighed. "I'll never understand… what really happened between you two, why things shattered so suddenly, and why Lydia—"
"Take me to the hospital." Her voice cut sharp, refusing to dig into the past. "I want to see my brother."
The hospital was as hushed as ever. As she passed by Sean's ward, a hoarse voice called out.
"Sis…"
Her heart stuttered. She turned, and there he was—her younger brother, lying weakly in the bed, lips curled in the faintest smile, eyes locked onto her as though he'd been waiting the whole time.
The sight pierced her. Her eyes burned, but she couldn't let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of him.
She forced a smile, rubbing her nose before stepping inside.
The caregiver approached, apologetic. "Miss Sung, Sean just woke up a little while ago. The doctor checked him over—everything was stable—so he's been transferred out of the ICU."