Daniel's words, laced with quiet fury, hung in the air like a blade.
The butler's face darkened, his eyes flickering between the shredded contracts and Daniel. With a snarling glare, he forced a stiff bow toward Elena.
"We'll... revisit this another day, President Vanderbilt."
Then he stormed out, his mind seething.
Insane. Absolutely fucking insane.
Since when did Daniel dare oppose him? Since when did he dare block the Lockwoods from taking Vanderbilt Industries?!
That ungrateful bastard must've forgotten his place.
Just wait until Alistair hears of this. He'll be thrown out of the family before sundown.
Silence. Then—
The room held only three now:
Elena.
Her bodyguard, Wyatt.
And Daniel—standing there like a man awaiting execution.
"Elena, I—I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
His voice broke, his hands hovering uselessly, too guilty to even meet her eyes.
For a moment, Elena just stared—as if he were a stranger.
Then, her lips curled into a mirthless smile.
"Vanderbilt Industries wasn't enough?" Her tone was frost. "What else do you want? Just say it."
This—
This was the first time she had ever spoken to him with such ice.
Daniel flinched as if struck.
"Last night was a mistake. I didn't know—I didn't know you were hurt. I thought... God, I'll never hurt you again. Just—just don't leave me. Don't divorce me. I'll do anything. "
Every word was a knife, plunging deeper into Daniel's chest—so painful he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.
His grip on the divorce papers turned bone-white as he stared at Elena's ethereal, ice-cold face, his voice raw with desperation and resolve:
"I stopped you from signing that contract not to demand more, but to prove—from today on, I will never sacrifice you for the Lockwoods again."
"I don't want anything from you. Just you. "
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. Just a chance to make things right. Please… don't leave me."
In the past, those words would've shattered Elena's defenses. She would've given him the world without hesitation.
But now?
Her heart didn't soar. It didn't even flutter.
Only a numb, hollow ache.
Because every single time—
Every. Damn. Time.
He only lowered himself when he wanted something.
And every time she trusted him, she bled for it.
"You didn't wrong me," she whispered, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't have to see him. "I did."
She couldn't bear to look at him.
This man—the one she'd loved for years, the one she would've died for—
Yesterday, he had tried to kill her.
And yet.
Yet.
Why was she so weak?
Why couldn't she hate him?
Even after he shoved her down the stairs.
Even as she lay there, bleeding out.
All she felt was—
Cold.
Empty.
And so, so tired.
But soon, Elena steadied herself, her expression smoothing back into impenetrable calm:
"Enough. Since you've brought the divorce papers, sign them and give them to Wyatt."
"Whatever else you want, discuss it with him. If I have it, it's yours."
"I'm tired. Once you sign... leave."
With that, she glanced at her bodyguard.
Wyatt immediately stepped forward, pen in hand, a human barricade between them.
Daniel's chest ached as he stared at Elena's bloodless face.
God, he wanted to scream it—
I've been reborn. I know how horribly I wronged you. I'll spend this lifetime making it right!
But who would believe something so insane?
She'd think it was another lie. Another cruel trick. And it would destroy her all over again.
Then—
"Daniel Lockwood! You actually have the audacity to show your face here?!"
A voice laced with venom sliced through the room.
Charlotte Xiao stormed in, trailed by a middle-aged doctor and a nurse. After a frantic check confirmed Elena was stable, she whirled on Daniel—her words searing with fury:
"What, was almost killing her once not enough?! You had to come back and twist the knife?!"
"Or is this another one of your disgusting games—using divorce to torture her further?!"
Daniel stopped listening.
Daniel's gaze locked onto the doctor who had entered with Charlotte.
Dr. Lin Tong.
Hailed as the city's top orthopedic specialist.
But Daniel—armed with the grim knowledge of his past life—knew the truth.
The man was a fraud.
A butcher in a white coat.
Most of his so-called "medical accolades" had been bought or stolen. If not for the high-profile death of a prominent elder a year later—a scandal even his connections couldn't suppress—Daniel would never have learned of his malpractice.
Why was he here?
Was this the quack who'd doomed Elena in his past life?
He vaguely remembered the man insisting on immediate surgery—claiming the success rate was overwhelmingly high.
Daniel clenched his jaw but held back, watching silently as Lin approached.

Charlotte's voice cut in sharply:
"You're overstepping, Daniel!"
Elena exhaled weakly. "Charlotte, I—"
The assistant shot Daniel a searing glare before guiding Lin to the bedside. "Dr. Lin, this is President Vanderbilt."
Lin smiled smoothly. "An honor. Let me examine your injuries."
But the moment he reached for Elena's wrist—
She flinched back.
Charlotte instantly draped a silk handkerchief over Elena's skin before shooting Lin an apologetic look.
"Apologies—President Vanderbilt has an aversion to direct contact with men." Charlotte's tone was polite but firm as she adjusted the silk barrier.
Lin Tong stiffened momentarily before forcing an obsequious smile. Then, his expression morphed into grave concern as he examined Elena through the fabric.
"President Vanderbilt... these injuries have been left untreated for over twelve hours. Initially, they weren't severe—but the secondary trauma to your back and calf worsened the damage."
"Your second lumbar rib shows signs of fracturing. The thoracic and abdominal cavities have sustained significant trauma..."
He paused dramatically.
"Without immediate surgery, you risk permanent paralysis below the waist."
Silence.
The words hit like a death sentence.
P-paralysis?!
Charlotte's voice shook. "Is—is it truly that critical? But she doesn't look that badly injured!"
Lin's face was solemn as a tombstone. "Internal damage isn't visible to the naked eye. Miss the surgical window, and she'll never walk again."
The color drained from Charlotte and Wyatt's faces.
Their seething glares snapped toward Daniel—who stood rigid, his fists trembling.
This was his fault.
All of it.
Lin, meanwhile, hid a smug flicker of triumph.
He'd heard of Elena Vanderbilt's influence. Today's performance would secure his ascent into high society.
"But don't worry," he soothed, oozing false confidence. "I've prepared a treatment plan. Surgery tonight, and she'll be good as new. "
"I can guarantee an 80% success rate."
Lin's voice oozed confidence, his smile slick with hidden ambition.
Good! Once this surgery succeeds...
I'll be Vanderbilt's savior!
The connections, the prestige—
Charlotte, pale with fear, didn't hesitate.
"Yes! Please, arrange the surgery immediately—"
But before she could finish—
"NO."
Daniel's voice cut like a guillotine, his expression dark enough to murder.
In one stride, he blocked their path, his next words absolute:
"He doesn't touch her."