My mission in this novel was to save the brooding villain. I took bullets, drank poison, fought his wars—believing I'd thawed his frozen heart. Then in our fifth year, I found Martin's caged songbird: Daisy, a sunshine-smiled orphan. Her innocence intoxicated his darkness. I served divorce papers. He shredded them with a laugh, flinging a psychiatric report at me. "Sign this insanity plea, or I'll break you." When I refused, iron rods shattered my legs. As I bled out, screaming for the System, Martin sneered: "Still acting?" But when I vanished—truly vanished— Martin Bertrand went mad. 1 A mechanical voice echoed in my head. “Host, you will be extracted from the novel world in three days.” As if to twist the knife, the man before me, Martin, calmly, almost lazily, drove a blade through the palm of my hand. “You wanted to go back to your world, didn’t you? Why are you still here? Do you need me to send you on your way?” I trembled from the searing pain, and a fresh wave of warmth bled from between my legs. Martin recoiled with a look of disgust. Just then, a bright, cheerful voice called from behind him. It was his little songbird, Daisy. “Martin, honey, I want to see the meteor shower tonight!” His expression melted instantly. “Of course,” he answered, his voice a soft murmur. He turned back to me, his fingers digging into my jaw. “Stop the act. You’re not going to die.” He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. “If you don’t sign those papers, if you dare threaten Daisy’s position in any way, I’ll have one of your bones broken every single day.” A teary laugh escaped my lips. When Martin was targeted by an assassin, I took the bullet for him and burned with a fever for two days. When he was in a car crash, I shielded him with my own body, nearly dying in the process. When a rival tried to poison him, I drank the wine and was unconscious for three days and three nights. The doctors warned me that my body was fragile, that I needed to recover. But in Martin’s eyes, I was indestructible. A cockroach that just wouldn’t die. His only concern was whether his precious Daisy had eaten enough for dinner. The difference between being loved and not being loved… it was a chasm. Martin stepped over me, my body convulsing, and ordered his men, “Clean this up. Don’t let it frighten Daisy.” In the courtyard, he pressed the girl against a wall, kissing her with a ferocity that seemed to want to devour her whole. And on his wrist, I saw it—the lucky charm bracelet my parents had given me. “Martin, what’s this?” Daisy asked, her eyes sparkling with delight. Without a moment’s hesitation, Martin slipped it from his own wrist and carefully fastened it onto hers. “I hope it brings you peace, health, and happiness, Daisy.” I remembered the day I gave him that bracelet. He had held me tight, his voice thick with emotion as he promised, “Elara, you’re the first person to ever be this good to me. I hope you have a life of peace, health, and happiness.” He had sworn to cherish it forever. Now, he’d given it to her. It was the only thing I had from my original world. I scrambled to my feet, tearing away from the guards and lunging toward the courtyard, desperate to get it back. I was still a few feet away when Martin spun around, shielding Daisy with his body. He sent me flying onto the lawn with a single, brutal kick. He frowned, turning his full attention to the girl in his arms. “Daisy, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. Then, his gaze fell on me, trembling on the grass. His tone turned to ice. “Elara, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know how delicate she is? If you scare her, I’ll kill you.” I looked at Daisy, shivering in his embrace, her innocent face filled with nothing but trust and reliance on him. I could see why he was so addicted to her. “Look out!” Suddenly, an old, rickety trellis in the yard began to topple over. I instinctively stumbled backward, but Daisy, in a sudden move, rushed forward and threw her hands up to stop the falling wood. A sharp pain shot through my palm, snapping me back to reality. It wasn’t the trellis. Daisy’s stiletto heel had ground my hand into the grass, pinning it to the ground. Martin swept Daisy into his arms, pulling her back several steps, not sparing a single glance for me, trapped beneath the fallen frame. A flicker of panic crossed his eternally cold features. “Are you hurt? Where?” Daisy blushed, shaking her head softly. “I’m fine, but… she’s trapped under the trellis.” At Daisy’s prompting, Martin finally bestowed a glance upon me. “That’s what she gets,” he said coldly. A dozen doctors swarmed around Daisy, but she took a roll of gauze and walked over to me. “Don’t be mad at Martin,” she said softly. “His bark is worse than his bite.” She gestured to a tiny scratch on her arm. “Look, my cut is tiny, but he insisted on flying in a specialist from abroad. He has such a good heart, really.” I saw the blush on her cheeks and couldn't tell if she was showing off or if she genuinely believed Martin was a kind man. A bitter laugh escaped me. A few days ago, I had a miscarriage. I was alone in the hospital. Martin’s only contact was a single, furious text message. “You can’t even protect a child. What are you good for? Elara, your very existence is a waste of hospital resources.” So, for me, seeking medical care was a waste of resources. I blinked, a wave of confusion washing over me. Maybe I really had loved the wrong man. My fingers tightened around the divorce papers I’d hidden. I signed my name. Suddenly, two bodyguards burst into the room and dragged me into the living room. Martin ordered them to strap me to a table. A needle, as thick as a baby’s arm, was plunged into my vein. A doctor spoke to Martin, his voice trembling slightly. “Mr. Bertrand, while Mrs. Bertrand’s blood type is a match for Miss Daisy, her recent miscarriage and today's injuries… a forced transfusion could lead to hypovolemic shock from excessive blood loss.” “Say one more word, and you’re fired.” Martin leaned back on the sofa, his expression unyielding. “It’s an honor for her to give blood to Daisy. No matter how much she complains, she’ll be back to cooking my soup tomorrow like a good little wife. Just make sure Daisy recovers. I don’t care about her. She’s not going to die.” He noticed the network of scars on my arms and hands, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened. “Does it hurt?” I looked at the marks—every single one a testament to a time I had saved him. Once, they were proof of my love. Now, they were just a joke he took for granted. I turned my head away as a single tear escaped. “It’ll be over soon. Just hang in there,” he said, patting my head in a hollow gesture of comfort. Just then, a soft whimper of pain came from the bedroom. It was Daisy. At the sound, Martin waved the doctor away, took the syringe himself, and sped up the blood draw. The doctor paled. “Sir, at that speed, the pain will be immense, and the risk of shock is much higher.” Without a flicker of hesitation, Martin’s voice was cold and clear. “Elara is a healthy woman. What’s a little pain? Don’t be so dramatic.” “But…” The agony was so intense my lips were turning blue. I cut the doctor off. “It’s alright. It doesn’t matter. As soon as this is done, I’ll be leaving anyway.” Martin’s dark eyes fixed on me, a flicker of something like frustration in them. “Where else could you possibly go but here, with me?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he continued, his tone softening into what he probably thought was reason. “Once Daisy is better, I’ll let you continue being Mrs. Bertrand.” A clap of thunder roared outside. From the bedroom, Daisy cried out his name, her voice thick with fear. Martin’s face tightened with anxiety, and he immediately started toward her room. My body trembled, and on pure instinct, my fingers clenched the corner of his jacket. He froze, then shot me a look of pure derision. “Elara, I haven't even settled the score with you for hurting Daisy this afternoon, and now you’re pulling stunts like this for attention? Don’t push your luck.” I pulled the crumpled divorce agreement from my pocket and held it out to him, forcing a weak smile. “No, Mr. Bertrand. This is the contract the company needs for tomorrow. Could you sign it?” Consumed with worry for Daisy, he didn’t even glance at the paper. He scribbled his name and flung it back in my face. “God, Elara, you really are obsessed with money, aren’t you?” The sharp edge of the paper cut my cheek. I carefully folded the document and tucked it away. I was finally free. Through the half-open door, I saw him. The man who wouldn’t flinch with a gun to his head was now gently coaxing Daisy to eat her soup. She sat in his lap, tears streaming down her face like a summer rain. And Martin—this was the same ruthless man who once had an enemy’s fingers broken one by one—his brow was furrowed in distress, as if her tears were more painful than any enemy’s blade. “Shh, don’t be afraid. I’m here,” he murmured, his deep voice a blanket of security. Too bad that security was never meant for me. I was terrified of thunderstorms. It was on a stormy night that I was forced into this strange, unfamiliar world. Lost, helpless, and consumed by fear. On our wedding night, Martin had watched me tremble and said coldly, “If you’re scared, just bear it. That pathetic look on your face is disgusting.” I had borne it for fifteen years. After I arrived in this world, the System gave me all of Martin's data. I knew from the very beginning that he was my only ticket home. At first, it was just a mission. But slowly, my heart got involved. Martin was cold-blooded, ruthless, a product of a tormented childhood. I believed that if I was good enough to him, obedient enough, I could one day find a way into his heart. I chased him like a lost puppy for ten years and shadowed him like a ghost for five more. In the end, he never loved me. There was no point in forcing it anymore. I glanced at the System’s countdown. One day left. We would never see each other again. Daisy, dressed in a brand-new white dress and a glittering necklace, approached me. She smiled, her expression a perfect picture of innocence, and linked her arm through mine. “Elara, I heard you saved me the other day when I was anemic. My boyfriend and I want to take you skiing to thank you. What do you say?” She noticed my gaze fixed on her necklace, and her smile widened. “My boyfriend flew to Paris last month just to buy this for me.” He hadn't bought it. Martin, the man who usually only cared for knives and guns, had spent two sleepless nights crafting it by hand. My heart had soared, thinking it was an anniversary gift for me. When I had accidentally touched it, he had exploded in a rage. He had his men strip me and forced me to kneel in the snow for three days and three nights. Martin was capable of love. When he fell for someone, he gave her every ounce of his tenderness. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and started to refuse. “My leg…” Before I could finish, Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. “Elara, I found out two days ago that I’m pregnant. My boyfriend insists on taking me to the chapel in the mountains to pray for the baby…” “That’s impossible,” I blurted out. After his parents died, Martin had lost all faith in God and religion. He despised it. I remembered after his car accident, I had gone to a monastery, fasting and praying for three days for a protective charm for him. He had thrown it in the trash without a second thought. His voice had been like ice. “I hate this sentimental garbage more than anything. If you ever do something like this on your own again, I will kill you.” Just then, Martin walked over to Daisy, his eyes shooting a warning glance at me. “The mountain scenery is beautiful. It’s just a minor leg injury. Surely Miss Vance isn’t that dramatic.” My heart sank. I was leaving soon anyway. There was no point in provoking them now. “Fine.” Daisy’s face immediately broke into a radiant smile. Martin tweaked her nose affectionately. I waited on the snowy peak for three hours. The roar of a helicopter finally split the air. Snowflakes drifted down as the handsome, powerful man guided the petite Daisy through the pristine white landscape. If I hadn’t been Martin’s partner for fifteen years, I might have been like the onlookers, sighing with envy at the picture-perfect couple. “Oh, Elara, I’m so sorry! I overslept, and Martin didn’t wake me,” Daisy said, shooting a playful glare at him. Martin just chuckled. “What can I do? You’re my sleepy little kitten.” “Well, it’s your fault for being so naughty last night!” They flirted openly, only noticing my presence when I coughed. Martin frowned, annoyed. “If you’re not feeling well, you shouldn’t have come. Don’t be so melodramatic now that you’re here.” I rubbed my frozen fingertips together, saying nothing. I just grabbed my ski equipment. Skiing used to be my favorite sport, but Martin said it wasn't ladylike. So I stopped. Now, I could finally have some fun. I pushed off, gliding past them and down the mountain. I noticed Martin’s eyes on me, and Daisy’s gaze flickered. “Martin, honey, you go on to the chapel. I’ll just watch for a bit and meet you there.” Martin carefully adjusted her scarf, murmuring a few more words of caution before he reluctantly left. “Aaaah!” A scream from behind me. I spun around. Daisy was on the ski slope, and a group of clumsy skiers were careening straight for her. If something happened to the person Martin loved, he would burn the world down. And my chance to go home would be gone with it. On pure instinct, I lunged, grabbing Daisy and shoving her toward the soft snowbank on the side. The skiers slammed into my back. The wound on my leg tore open again with a fresh burst of agony. Someone grabbed a ski pole and brought it down hard on my head. “Stupid bitch, ruining our fun.” Crack! My head exploded in a wave of white noise. Blood streamed from my forehead, staining the pure white snow. The ski resort erupted into chaos. The men who had attacked me now advanced on Daisy. She shrank back, her voice trembling. “Who are you?” “Little lady, next time, tell Martin Bertrand not to make so many enemies!” The leader of the group raised his ski pole, aiming for her stomach. The thought of my only way home being destroyed gave me a surge of adrenaline. Gritting my teeth, I threw myself over Daisy. The man motioned for his cronies to pull me off. “Well, look what we have here. Bertrand’s got good taste. This one’s a beauty, too. You boys can have your fun with her. I’ll take care of this one first.” As the leader’s knife arced toward Daisy, she squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. Just then, a single, sharp gunshot cracked through the mountain air. Bang! The leader crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony. And there, walking through the snow like a vengeful god, was Martin. His face was a mask of cold fury, his deep eyes burning with murderous intent. He went straight to Daisy, scooping her up gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
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