Chapter 1

"Please stop it! Stop hitting me!" Mayra Sadler begged her tormentor as she knelt on the floor, covered in blood. There was a bruise on her lower abdomen, and her dark, luscious hair had been cut short. With her eyes sunken and smelling horrid, she looked no different than a patient in a mental asylum. This marked the third year of Mayra's captivity. Her sanity had been slowly slipped away. She wondered how she managed to endure the daily torture inflicted by the man standing in front of her, Lucian Rowe, for three years. As if her endless suffering wasn't enough, she had also been impregnated by Lucian. Three years ago, Mayra had caused Isabel Fisher's miscarriage by drugging the latter, a move fueled by her envy of Anderson Barlow's love for Isabel. As punishment, Anderson condemned her into the hands of Lucian. Until today, she could never forget what Anderson had said to her. With a gaze that pierced her soul, he remarked coldly, "Mayra, you should be punished for your crime. Leave Belchester City and repent for what you did to Isabel's unborn child." "I was wrong! I was wrong!" Every day, Mayra atoned for her sins. Each day, she prayed and clung to the hope that Anderson would one day rescue her from the depths of this basement. She wanted to escape, but that was impossible. What awaited her at the end of every failed escape attempt was an even harsher punishment. Lucian grabbed her hair with a twisted sense of excitement. "Scream louder! Let's see if anyone answers your call for help. "Anderson Barlow's woman was indeed special. You captivated and pleasured me when you first arrived. But despite all these years, you're still holding onto the fantasy of Anderson coming to save you? "You shouldn't be so delusional. He had already married Isabel Fisher when he sent you to me three years ago. "Look at you now. Haha! You're nothing but a used toy!" No! How could Anderson possibly marry Isabel? Mayra was shocked because he had promised never to do that. She shook her head in tears, refusing to accept the bitter truth. After what seemed like an eternity, she sank to the floor, half-naked, her back against the wall. The light in her eyes dimmed as blood gushed out from her gaping wounds. Yet, she lay on the ground unmoving, as though the pain did not bother her. For the first time in her three years of torture, she entertained the idea of giving up on life. She had naively held on to the hope that Anderson would bring her home, but he had not shown up even once in the past three years. Her fate had been sealed and her life ruined ever since she arrived. Anderson had married Isabel and dumped her the moment that happened. Mayra realized that even if Anderson were to rescue her, he could never accept her again. They could never return to what they once were. When Lucian left, Mayra slowly got up from the floor. With what was left of her strength, she grabbed the tool that Lucian had used to torture her, plunging it into her chest and piercing her heart. … Mayra started vomiting blood. There was a vacant look in her eyes, and a familiar pain surged through her body. She stared out of the only window in the basement at the clear night sky, where stars were few and far between. A few teardrops slid down her cheek. Finally, she collapsed in a puddle of her blood as she drew one of her last breaths. As she struggled to open her eyes, she saw herself being buried in the ground. Lucian, wielding a shovel, methodically covered her with soil. Huge raindrops fell on her eyes. As the world around her faded into darkness, the surrounding noise seemed to disappear simultaneously. She thought, "Anderson Barlow, I regretted everything! Why did I have to cross paths with you, only to endure this agony? How could you be this heartless to me? "Even so, at the end of my life, all I can think of is you… Anderson, if I could turn back time, I would never intervene in your relationship with Isabel. I would spare myself the pain of loving you!" Silence and darkness engulfed her. Mayra felt herself descending into the abyss. Just like that, Mayra Sadler quietly left the world. She died on a silent night in the pouring rain, her body forever buried in the landfill. … In 2007, in a room at Belchester General Hospital, Mayra was woken up by a faint sound. "Mr. Barlow, she's awake!" Mayra felt like she was drowning. She grabbed onto something for dear life and gasped for air. As her eyes fluttered open, she found herself gasping for breath on a hospital bed. Staring at the white ceiling atop, she picked up the harsh scent of disinfectant. It was then that realization dawned upon her. Mr. Barlow? Was that… Anderson Barlow? Bewildered, she stared blankly at the man who had just entered her room. Anderson Barlow was dressed in an expensive black suit, looking sophisticated and alluring, yet distant. His chiseled features exuded a frosty air. As she caught sight of him, she hastily removed the infusion needle from the back of her hand. She scrambled towards him, grabbing his pant sleeve with tears streaming down her face. "Andy, I was wrong! I will listen to you and never throw a tantrum again. Please don't send me away!" Anderson slowly crouched to meet her eyes with a concerned and gentle gaze. "Mayra, what's wrong? Did someone bully you? Hm? Let me know." With tears streaming down her face, she stared at him in disbelief. "An… Andy…" Something felt awry. Why had Anderson appeared decades younger, when he should have been in his 40s? She was face to face with a 28-year-old Anderson Barlow. She fixed her eyes on him as if examining every inch of his face. Reaching out to touch his face, she felt the warmth radiating from his skin. His handsome and cheerful face bore no trace of wrinkles. Anderson was supposed to have a scar near his eye from a wound she inflicted on him. Why wasn't it there? She had accidentally hurt him near the eye when they got into an argument. He laid his eyes on her smooth and pale hand but did not stop her. "T-This cannot be real… This must be a dream. I should be dead by now. Is this heaven or an illusion? Andy abandoned me, didn't he?" Anderson interrupted her thoughts. "Come, let's get you up from the floor. Alright?" Startled, she lifted her tear-stricken face and questioned, "Andy, what year is it? Are we in 2007?" He reached out to smooth her messy hair. "It's the year 2007. It's currently midnight. Look, the sky is dark out there." She stared at him with vacant eyes, shocked to learn that she wasn't dead. She seemed to have been reborn. Anderson gently lifted her from the ground, placed her back in bed, and tucked her in. Since she was bleeding profusely from the back of her hand, he patiently cleaned her wound. Mayra couldn't help but feel surprised. She thought that she had attempted to take her own life and was being buried alive by Lucian when she took her last breath. Anderson seemed unfazed at her agitation, dismissing it as her response to a nightmare.