The cellar was freezing cold.

Liliana Johnson was covered in blood, her body a mess of open wounds, and her face clawed by deep, raw gashes.

Her severed pinky had begun to scab over, and the hollow where her right eye used to be gaped open in a horrifying void.

One glance, and it was enough to make you flinch.

The creaky door swung open.

A bucket of icy water slammed down on her.

Still dazed, Liliana shivered, a ghost-like voice cutting through the silence and dragging her back from unconsciousness.

"Liliana... Wilson's lost his mind."

It stabbed through her heart like a needle.

That man who once seemed unbreakable... had gone mad?

Liliana blinked slowly, vision foggy, only to see Marsha Johnson looming above her with a terrifying smirk.

"Surprised it's me?" Marsha asked, voice thick with twisted satisfaction.

She tapped a knife against Liliana's cheek like it was a toy, eyes gleaming. "I've been waiting for this moment forever... ever since the day they brought you back to the Johnsons. Waiting for you to suffer, waiting for Wilson to drift away from you, waiting for the whole family to fall apart."

Tears had long since dried at the corners of Liliana's eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why?"

She never realized just how deep her sister's hatred went.

Marsha slowly unsheathed the knife, a strange look flashing in her eyes. "Why? No, seriously, why? You were gone for fifteen years. Gone. Everyone gave up on you. I stayed, I waited, I did everything right... and now you come back from some forgotten place and suddenly you're the golden child? That was supposed to be me."

"Dad adored you like you were perfect. Mom—your stepmom, remember?She doted on you like you were her own. And Wilson's completely insane about you. You don't even see it, do you? You're just this clueless kid from nowhere, and somehow you got everything I ever wanted. Why?!"

"So you drugged Mom and Dad? Got someone to attack me? Played tricks to tear me and Ethan apart?" Liliana choked on her tears, everything cracking inside her.

Marsha gave her a look of fake pity. "Wow. You're really that naive. You think all that happened without Ethan's help? How'd you think I got you here? Why do you think our parents died without leaving a single clue?"

"What... are you talking about?"

A buzzing sound filled Liliana's head. Her brain felt like it was collapsing in real time.

Marsha grabbed her chin, sneering. "The guy you've been hopelessly in love with? He's the real villain here. Why do you think he stayed by your side all those years? Because once you married him, he'd inherit the Johnsons' fortune. If it weren't for Wilson losing his mind, this whole family would've been ours by now."

Liliana froze, her whole body going ice-cold, like she'd plunged into pitch-black water.

This... this was the truth?

She had blamed Wilson.

Thought he trapped her, manipulated her, destroyed her relationship with Ethan, even killed her parents. But all that? None of it was true.

She'd hated the wrong person all this time.

"Wilson..." Liliana murmured his name like in a trance, empty eyes staring into nothing.

Marsha's grin warped into something darker. She thrust the knife into Liliana's chest, blood instantly soaking through her already mangled clothes. Her voice was a low, twisted murmur.

"Wilson... that psycho. I sent him your finger, your hair, your eye, your blood... all bottled up real nice. That devil went off the deep end. And when you die? I'll make sure he gets your ashes too. He never once looked at me, even when I was right there."

Blood spread out on the floor in thick puddles.

Amidst Marsha's demented muttering, a face flashed before Liliana's eyes—Wilson Clark, unnervingly handsome, wild and intense.

The confusion in her gaze slowly faded.

Why?

Why did Wilson lose his mind for her?

Why was Wilson so obsessed?

Why... was she the one?

Darkness caved in from every side.

Before she could make sense of it all, her eyes closed...

A sharp, stabbing pain pulsed from below. Liliana gasped and jolted awake—

Only to find herself staring into a pair of narrow, sharp eyes—steel-gray and cutting, like blades glinting beneath the surface.

The man above her held her gaze, a trace of cold amusement flickering at the corners of his mouth. Then, without warning, he leaned in—and bit her lips.

A chilling voice sliced through the air, sudden and sharp, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Liliana, you were the one who came to me first."

Wilson—how on earth was he here?!

Before she could even react, the man's aggressive moves completely overwhelmed her senses.

A low whimper escaped her lips, and soon, she was completely lost in his rhythm...

She had no idea how much time passed.

When she came to, a soft blanket was covering her. From behind the partition, a trembling voice pleaded,

"Mr. Clark, please! I was wrong... I'll never do it again!"

"I didn't know Miss Johnson was your fiancée, I swear I didn't mean any harm!"

Familiar surroundings slowly came into focus. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked, startled by what she saw.

This was Rosevale Residence. The place where she'd first slept with Wilson.

Back then, she'd been drugged after getting kidnapped, managed to escape, and somehow stumbled into his room—and into his bed.

And afterward, she'd believed Marsha's lies, convinced it was all part of some trap Wilson had set.

Wait, could it be... she had come back to the moment when she and Wilson first met? Had she... been reborn?

Before she could think too far, a horrific scream tore through the air.

"Ahhh!"

Then came the gruesome crack of bones breaking, followed by Wilson's calm, detached voice:

"Take him out. Don't dirty the floor here."

That voice—it froze her blood. So damn familiar.

It really was... Wilson.

Panic surged through her as she scrambled to sit up. Her legs gave out before she was even fully upright, and she collapsed to her knees. The sound caught his attention.

His tall frame appeared, and a pair of warm hands reached for her.

Liliana looked up.

The top two buttons of his shirt hung open, revealing a glimpse of a toned chest beneath. His eyes—deep-set and steel-gray—held a lazy intensity, like a predator who never needed to chase because everything came to him eventually.

His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones high, and every line of his face looked like it had been carved by something dangerously precise. Handsome in a way that made you want to look twice—even when your instincts told you to run.

There was something unhinged just beneath the surface, a quiet obsession lurking in the way he watched the world, like he could burn it all down just to keep one thing for himself.

Liliana felt her heart lurch. She instinctively backed away a step.

Picking up on her fear, Wilson yanked her into his arms without a word, the other hand gripping her jaw as he stared down coldly at her.

"What this time? Planning to report me for destroying the evidence?"

Last time, after she'd been taken back to the Johnson home, all she'd heard about Wilson came from Marsha.

They said he'd been abandoned in the wild and raised by wolves. That he looked dumb and acted cruel. That he was heartless, had no family ties, and even had his own uncle thrown in jail. They called him a monster, a tyrant.

She had believed it. She even tried to call for a breakup multiple times.

So when she'd slept with him back then, the last thing she mumbled before passing out had been, "You psycho rapist, I'm going to have you locked up."

Looking at him now...

This was the moment where his obsession began in the last life—and where her hatred toward him first took root.

She always thought he was just some lunatic tyrant who forced her to stay by his side, who had her monitored 24/7, not letting her out of his sight for a second...

But remembering the man who went mad for her in that life, her lashes trembled.

Maybe... maybe she had never really understood this so-called "maniac."

Just then, she heard a low voice in her head, frustrated and stuffy:

Wilson:[She's really that scared of me?]

What the hell?! She had unlocked some bonus prize in this second life?

She... could hear his thoughts? Like actually hear them?

And wait—was that a hint of... sulkiness in that voice?

Liliana blinked, wide-eyed.

She had only ever known Wilson as this stormy, violent man.

But turns out his mental monologue was... kinda cute?!

Looking up at this dangerous but undeniably hot guy, she nervously swallowed and tugged on his sleeve, trying to explain, "N-no, Wilson, I just really don't like blood..."