"James... I didn't mean it, James, you have to believe me."

Inside the villa, Angela was on her knees, with her face whiter even than the pure white porcelain vase on the table.

Without the lights on, she couldn't see the man's face on the couch at the moment and only could see the faint glow of the cigarette he held between his fingers, which eventually disappeared little by little.

The feeling was like waiting for the death sentence to be pronounced, which made her even more uneasy.

She looked down at her fingers and zoned out. It was still stained with Jessica's blood, which had dried up over time. But this was evidence of her crime.

Without knowing how long it took, he finally stood up, and his tall, slender figure moved closer to her.

"Angela, there's a price to pay for doing something wrong. Jessica's leg is saved, but she can no longer dance, and why are you... still alive and doing fine?"

His eerie tone intimidated her.

By the moonlight, she could faintly see the man weighing a golf club with his hand.

"I told you I would marry you if you were being a good girl. But why did you mess with Jessica? Hmm?"

After he said it, the club fell in a smooth motion, hitting straight on her shin.

"Ah!"

He only exerted 10% percent of his strength, but she suffered 100 times much more pain.

"James... I didn't..."

Her left leg was throbbing with pain. She was so frightened but could only move back a little. Unfortunately, the injured leg only dangled stiffly, in a lifeless state.

The man threw away the bent club and indifferently looked at her being miserable, "Angela, this leg is your compensation to Jessica. I'll spare your life, but remember, this debt's not over."

She hugged herself tightly, shaking like a sieve.

Everything in front of her gradually overlapped into darkness, and before closing her eyes, she saw him pick up the phone and dial out, "Tell the Chante family that Angela attempted to kill someone intentionally. Keep her or keep the Chante Group, let them decide for themselves."

Angela laughed softly, feeling so tired; she wondered if everyone was satisfied if she just died.

Two years later.

In the cold winter, City B finally had its first snow.

The gate of the detention house on the East suburb was open early in the morning.

A thin woman came out, perhaps because of her leg problem, she didn't walk fast.

As the snow fell, the woman looked up, if the deep or shallow cut on her face was ignored, she was actually young and pretty.

In this weather, the shift of the bus was not many and the departure interval increased from every hour to every two to three hours.

She was out of luck, as a bus had just left five minutes before she left the detention house.

So now she had to wait at the roadside for two or three hours.

Touching the chiffon shirt she was wearing, she frowned, and the crescent-shaped scar creased at the corner of her brow.

It was still spring when she went into the detention center, but unexpectedly, it was winter when she came out.

She stood under the bus stop sign and looked blankly across the street at the detention house that had held her captive for two years. On the white wall were several large letters: Reinvent yourself to turn over a new leaf.

Suddenly, she couldn't help but laugh.

Such words she had read countless times a day for the past two years. But was there any chance for someone who came out of here to have a new life?

In the cold, her mind went wild until the bus drove through the blizzard and interrupted her thoughts. She rubbed her aching leg and got into the car.

All she had was an old, outdated cell phone and a dozen dollars that the guard at the detention house kindly gave her. After paying her bus fare, she took a seat in the back submissively.

The bus was the only one going from the city center to the prison, so Angela was the only passenger. Along the way, she was clinging on the window, like she couldn't get enough of the view.

It turns out that the city had changed so much in two years.