Chapter 3

That night, Elena had a dream she hadn't had in a long time. The dreamscape carried her back to a Christmas Eve ten years ago, before the fire. The logs in the fireplace crackled, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and pine. Her parents sat on the Persian rug, hugging her gently, their eyes full of doting affection. Mia, two years her junior, looked enviously at the limited-edition Barbie doll in Elena's hand and said, "Cousin is so happy."

It felt like being immersed in a warm milk bath; she coveted that warmth. However, the image suddenly shattered. Gabriel's handsome but cruel face surfaced like a nightmare. Her parents' loving faces twisted into hideous snarls, accusing her of being a murderer. Mia turned and walked away, her back radiating the mockery of a victor.

Elena cried out, "Mom, Dad, don't leave me!" She tried to run, but the oak floor beneath her feet cracked open into a bottomless abyss. She fell into the cold darkness, swallowed by despair.

Her parents and Mia did not look back, clustering around Gabriel as they walked toward a glowing exit.

Elena jerked awake, her heart pounding violently. Outside, the roar of a neighbor's snowblower pulled her back to reality. Her pillow was cold and damp—tears she had shed in her sleep. She thought her heart had long since turned to ash, but in her subconscious, the little girl yearning for love was still weeping. Fortunately, it was just a dream.

A black Lincoln sedan slowly pulled into the driveway. When Elena saw the elderly gentleman in a wool coat, leaning on a silver-headed cane, step out of the car, she immediately threw on a jacket and went downstairs.

"Elena, I heard you got the offer from that top firm. Well done, child."

The old gentleman was Thomas, Gabriel's father and a famous real estate tycoon. He was the only person in the two families who genuinely appreciated Elena's talent, always treating her like his own daughter.

Thomas patted Elena's shoulder affectionately, then glanced at his son, who had just walked out of the house, and nodded. "It seems you two will be making grand plans in the architectural world together. I'm hosting dinner tonight at Daniel to celebrate Elena's success."

Gabriel frowned and interjected, "Dad, the celebration isn't for Elena. Elena said she doesn't want to go to that firm anymore; she gave the recommendation letter and the spot to Mia. Mia is very talented; she won't let the family down."

Thomas's face changed abruptly. He was about to explode and scold his son for this nonsense when Elena gently pressed her hand on his arm.

Elena managed to squeeze out a polite smile. "Uncle Thomas, you just flew back from London. Please rest first. I'll explain the details to you another day."

She didn't want Thomas to dig deeper, afraid he might use his connections to investigate and expose her decision to apply for the Norway "Polar Night" project. She just wanted to leave quietly, without getting entangled in any more wealthy family drama.

Thomas glared darkly at Gabriel, gave a cold harrumph, and angrily turned back to his car to leave.

Now, only Elena and Gabriel were left in the yard.

Gabriel adjusted his cufflinks expressionlessly and said coldly, "Don't tell my dad about our appointment to register the marriage at City Hall yet. Also, you'd better come up with a perfect reason to explain why you gave up that spot. Do you understand?"

Elena lowered her head, looking at the boot prints in the snow, and replied softly, "Okay." Her voice held no emotional inflection.

To pave the way for Mia, Gabriel was actually willing to maintain this engagement he detested. What a "noble" sacrifice.

"Mia is young, her mental resilience is poor, and she's a sensitive artist. Don't mention the marriage registration in front of her. And, I told you yesterday to give her your organized design sketches—why haven't you given them yet?"

Before Elena could answer, Gabriel continued aggressively, "Mia has an interview coming up. You should do something to help make her portfolio look decent. Don't let her embarrass herself in front of those Pritzker Prize winners."

Watching Gabriel put Mia first in everything, Elena felt like she had swallowed a shard of ice. "Do you think it's necessary for me to do that? With you and my parents holding her in the palms of your hands, what does she lack?"

Gabriel paused, seemingly remembering just how awkward Elena's current situation was. A trace of complex guilt flashed across his face, but it vanished in an instant.

"Don't worry. I promised I would marry you, and I won't go back on my word. This is my commitment to the family."

He could only use this pale promise of marriage to appease Elena.

"Gabriel, are you really going to marry Cousin?"

Gabriel's face changed drastically. He spun toward the entryway to see Mia, dressed in a thin nightgown, leaning against the doorframe. Her face was as pale as paper, her eyes hollow and desperate.

"Mia, it's not what you think..."

Before Gabriel could explain, Mia suddenly began to gasp violently, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. She clutched her head with both hands, screaming as she collapsed to her knees, her fingernails frantically scratching at her own arms, leaving trails of blood. "I don't want Brother to marry Cousin! I love Brother too... I can't live without you!"

Mia's panic attack was so theatrical that Gabriel instantly panicked. He shoved Elena out of the way and rushed over to hold the trembling Mia tightly in his arms.

Her parents rushed out at the sound, their faces turning white at the scene.

"Oh, God! My poor baby!" her mother screamed.

The three of them scrambled to carry the hysterical Mia into the Land Rover to rush her to the private hospital. Before closing the car door, Gabriel glared at Elena, his eyes cold as knife blades. "Look what you've done! You deliberately provoked Mia. I didn't realize your heart was so vicious that you'd try to drive her to her death."

That look, full of disgust and hatred, was like a sledgehammer shattering Elena's final line of defense. No matter what Mia wanted, as long as she shed a single tear, the whole family would revolve around her, and all sins would be blamed on Elena.

Gabriel's angry expression replayed in Elena's mind. She told herself not to be sad for a man who didn't love her, but tears still slid down in the freezing wind.

Mia's clumsy performance could be seen through by anyone with a shred of reason.

Once, Gabriel had hated the family's bias toward Mia the most. When Elena was ignored by her parents and hiding in the attic crying, it was he who climbed onto the roof to find her, swearing to the Manhattan night sky that no one would be allowed to bully Elena again.

Back then, Gabriel was truly good to her, gifting her many art supplies and models.

But at some point, everything changed. His annoyance with Mia turned into pity, and finally into a deformed desire to protect.

Mia was like a curse in Elena's life, always taking everything away from her.

Elena watched coldly as the taillights vanished at the end of the street, letting her tears fall onto the snow. This was the last time she would cry for Gabriel, the last time she would feel sorrow for this deformed family.

From now on, she would live for herself, embracing that pure, icy wasteland.

Elena returned to the damp basement and dragged out a dusty old metal trunk. It was her "treasure chest," containing every gift Gabriel had ever given her—from the movie ticket stubs of their first date to the wooden models he carved by hand, to the sketchbook filled with words of love.

She had once treated them like rare treasures, loath to let them gather even a speck of dust.

But now, they were nothing but sickening garbage.

Elena gathered everything up and carried it to the rusted barrel in the backyard used for burning leaves. She struck a match and watched the flames lick at the items that held ten years of memories, burying her love for Gabriel in the orange-red fire.

Just as the fire was dying down, leaving only a pile of ash, Gabriel returned, having forgotten his wallet.

When he walked into the backyard and saw the burning sketchbook—the cover still faintly displaying the words he had written years ago, "To my only love"—his face went instantly pale, and a strong sense of unease surged within him.