Mistakenly Married by You

Lucille's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the pain coursing through her. It felt like a blade had pierced her, shattering her heart into countless pieces. The room grew suffocating, her breath shallow and her fingers numbed by the cold grip of despair. Her legs threatened to give way, but she steadied herself against the wall, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume her. As tears welled up in her eyes, Lucille fought back the urge to cry in front of them. She knew they would relish in her pain, using it as fuel for their mockery. She couldn't afford to give them that satisfaction. She faced them with a facade of relative calm, though her trembling fingers betrayed the inner turmoil she battled. Biting down on her lip, Lucille used a hardened tone to shield herself from the emotional anguish that threatened to break her. "If you think I'm filthy, why did you marry me? Why did you make me believe that you loved me all these years?" The words felt like shards scraping against her throat, threatening to choke her. Tears seared in her eyes, begging to be released, but she refused to let them fall. She yearned to appear whole, even while being shattered. Throughout their years together, Lucille believed Lucas was the only man who truly loved her, accepting her past without judgment. He had pursued her relentlessly, promising to be the only one to cherish her. Though initially fearful, she was moved by his unwavering dedication and reciprocated his love with all her might. When Lucas's erectile dysfunction had become a challenge, and the prospect of having children seemed distant, Lucille stood by his side, understanding and supporting him. She had tirelessly worked for his recovery, never suspecting that Lucas was nothing more than a deceitful liar. He had skillfully played the part, weaving an illusion of love while secretly despising her and seeing her as nothing but filth. Lucas's face contorted with anger at her question. A scornful sneer twisted his lips as he venomously retorted, "Why? It's because Grandpa took a liking to you! I never wanted to marry you, but he threatened to disown me. If it weren't for you, I could openly carry on my affair and spare my lover from three years of suffering!" His words struck Lucille like a dagger to the heart. The mockery in his voice reverberated in her ears, causing her to feel a wave of disbelief and betrayal. He looked at her with sheer contempt before snatching a document from his desk and flinging it in her face, his demand ringing with malice, "Sign it." Stunned, Lucille stood frozen, her gaze falling upon the scattered papers on the floor. And there it was, the damning title that confirmed her worst fears. [Divorce Agreement] Had she not been leaning against the wall, she would have crumpled to the floor under the weight of the revelation. A sickening pit formed in her stomach, and her heart throbbed with pain as though it were being crushed in a vice. She had loved Lucas with all her being, dedicating herself to his happiness. Yet, all her efforts had been in vain because the husband she thought she knew was nothing more than an illusion. Their cherished moments together now felt like a cruel mirage, transforming into a living nightmare from which she desperately longed to awaken. But no matter how hard she pinched herself, praying for it all to be a terrible dream, the painful reality before her eyes remained unchanged. Lucille swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze shifted to the bulging duvet on the bed. Her voice grew sharp as she questioned, "Who is she?" Her words hung in the air, carrying the weight of judgment. The figure beneath the covers visibly trembled as if afraid of being exposed to Lucille's piercing scrutiny—a sense of foreboding washed over her. "Rica?" Lucille called out, her tone perfunctory, and the hidden figure on the bed grew still. She turned her gaze to Lucas, whose surreal expression confirmed her haunting suspicion. At that moment, she knew her intuition had been right all along. Taking a sharp breath, Lucille felt like salt had been rubbed into her wounds as if something were devouring her heart. The pain was so excruciating that her body felt numb. She stared at them blankly, watching Lucas sit on the bed's edge, gently coaxing his woman. "Baby, we can't hide your identity forever. You can come out now since she has already figured it out." The words struck Lucille like a dagger, each syllable carving deeper into her shattered heart. The revelation had unfolded before her, unraveling the web of deceit that had trapped her. She was left standing in the wreckage of her once-happy marriage, her world crumbling around her. As Lucas pulled down the sheets, Lucille's gaze fell upon Larica's tear-streaked face. She looked pitiable, like a fragile rabbit, with her trembling figure and eyes shimmering with sadness. "Lucy, I'm sorry... It's all my fault because I couldn't control my love for him. Please don't blame Lucas. I'll accept whatever you decide..." Larica apologized in a voice quivering with guilt and self-blame. A profound stillness settled over Lucille as she regarded her identical twin. By just one minute, Larica, her younger sister, bore a striking resemblance to her. However, one feature set Larica apart—a vermilion mole nestled above her eyebrow. People often found it endearing, claiming it added to her innocent charm, captivating the hearts of those around her. "Do you truly love Lucas, or have you been stealing from me out of habit?" Lucille asked, her tone laced with a hint of lightness. Startled by Lucille's question, Larica stared at her with tears streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall. "I'm deeply sorry, Lucy. I was wrong. You can beat me, scold me, do whatever you want as long as you forgive me..." she cried grievously, as though portraying Lucille as the bully. Before Lucille could respond, Larica abruptly rose to her feet and closed the distance between them. She grasped Lucille's hand and slapped her face, leaving a bright red palm print and a few scratch marks. Unintentionally, Lucille's nails had grazed her in the process. Yet, the incident didn't seem unintentional from every angle. As Lucas witnessed the scratches on Larica's cheeks, fury coursed through his veins. Without warning, he forcefully yanked Lucille's arm and threw her aside, his actions fueled by anger. Hurriedly, he checked on Larica, and his face contorted with distress. "Baby, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. Larica shook her head, though she fought back tears and offered a brave smile. "I'm fine. Please check on my sister and see if she's hurt," she responded, feigning vulnerability. Lucas scrutinized her, perplexed by her selflessness, even in her own pain. His heart ached for this kind-hearted woman who remained strong for the sake of others. 'Lucille is a ruthless woman. Why does she still care so much about her?' he wondered, his fist clenched as he turned his gaze to Lucille with a menacing glare. "It seems my impression of you all these years was completely wrong. I used to believe you were knowledgeable, virtuous, and gentle, but I was mistaken. You're a malicious woman, Lucy. Why are you blaming Rica when she's done nothing wrong? I was the one who fell in love with her first and pursued her relentlessly until she agreed to be with me. If you're angry, direct your anger at me. Rica is your sister, and you shouldn't harm her. But family ties don't matter to you, do they? Look at what you've done. Slapping her wasn't enough; you had to hurt her face?" he spat out his words sharply, without pause. Lucille could only stare blankly at them as she struggled to rise from the floor. The force Lucas had pushed her had caused her head to collide with the doorknob, leaving a throbbing pain at the back of her skull. Despite the dizziness, she couldn't miss a single word Lucas uttered. An overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and hurt consumed her. Larica's feigned concern and Lucas's absurd accusations devastated her. She wanted to lash out, to refute their claims, but then she noticed Larica silently mouthing the words, "You owe me." Understanding her sister's meaning, Lucille swallowed her retort and resignedly lowered her head. Meanwhile, Lucas misinterpreted her silence as an absence of words. A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he urged, "Hurry up and sign the divorce agreement. I don't want to lay eyes on you for another minute."

Larica held onto Lucas's arm, her eyes pleading and filled with tears. "Lucas, all of this started because of me. Please, give us a moment so I can explain to my sister?" His arrogant expression softened, concern etched across his face. "But Rica, I can't let you talk to her alone. Just look at what she did to you," Lucas said, gently caressing Larica's delicate cheek, marked with the evidence of Lucille's harsh treatment. "Lucas, she is still my sister. She deserves an explanation from me, at least," Larica leaned into his touch, assuring him. "I trust her, so please, leave us for a moment," she insisted. Lucas sighed, his eyes still focused on Larica's cheek. Reluctantly, he turned to glare at Lucille, his wife of three years. He approached her with a cold, distant look as if she were a stranger. "Lucille Powell, don't you dare lay your hands on her again. I will take action if you do," Lucas warned her, his tone devoid of warmth. The man who had once cared for her now stood in her sister's embrace. Lucille found it strangely amusing to see the familiar face she had been married to for three years treating her with such indifference. The irony was not lost on Lucille. Despite being with Lucas for all those years, she had never truly understood the kind of man he was. Looking back, she felt foolish for her naivety. Once Lucas finally left the room, Larica's previously pitiful expression faded away. She composed herself, adjusting her hair and wearing a proud smile before her sister. Larica lifted the blanket, revealing her alluring and seductive figure. She didn't waste a moment to point out the fresh marks on her body, mocking Lucille. "I bet you had no idea just how passionate and vigorous Lucas can be," she smirked, trailing her fingers along the marks. "I mean, now you know for sure. He's remarkable in many ways, especially when he makes me feel like the happiest woman in the world." Larica crossed her legs and flashed a smug smile. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Lucy. You did your best to keep Lucas healthy and strong for your sister," she cooed, taunting Lucille further. And she was right. Lucille had cared for Lucas for years, but she had never imagined he would use his strength to hurt her sister. It was a revolting thought that made Lucille feel sick to her stomach. "Ew..." Lucille couldn't help but comment as she covered her mouth, the urge to vomit overwhelming her. After a few seconds, Lucille turned to face Larica, her eyes hinting at a mix of sympathy and sorrow. "Do you find all of this truly fulfilling, Rica? Since we were seventeen, you've always had this habit of taking things from me. No matter what I liked, you would always claim it for yourself. And now, my brother-in-law? My husband? Is this truly what makes you happy?" After hearing Lucille's statement, Larica's face turned pale instantly. Lucille hadn't intended to expose her sister, but she couldn't help feeling deeply hurt and surprised by what had just transpired. Lucille and Larica had always been inseparable as twins, but their lives were tragic when they were seventeen. They were blackmailed and kidnapped, and during their captivity, Larica was subjected to humiliation and forced acts. When they finally managed to escape, Lucille noticed a change in Larica. Her sister began to enjoy stealing things from her, distraught Lucille. Whenever Larica committed these acts of theft, she would play the victim, pretending to be innocent. Their parents fell for Larica's manipulations and consistently sided with her, punishing Lucille instead, even though she had done nothing wrong. Lucille endured the pain silently, considering it mere flesh wounds, but her parents' attitude was profoundly unfair. Three years later, when the kidnappers were apprehended for another crime, they confessed to their heinous acts against the Powell Twins. The news spread like wildfire in Asheville City, and the mainstream media became involved. Reporters from various news agencies speculated about which of the Powell Twins had been the victim of the assault. The media circus turned their misery into a spectacle, trying to guess which twin was more likely to have suffered assault based on their personalities and appearances. Driven by the pressure of the press and their desire to preserve Larica's reputation, their parents forced Lucille to admit that she was the one who had been assaulted. Still, Lucille knew this was not right, no matter how much she cared for Larica. But their parents convinced her that, like the older sister, she had failed to protect Larica when she needed her the most and bore responsibility for what had happened to her younger sister. Sacrificing her reputation was the only way she could make amends. Larica gritted her teeth and glared at her sister, her eyes filled with malice and wickedness. "If you hadn't pretended to faint, I wouldn't have endured that humiliation and assault by the kidnappers," she spat, her words laced with bitterness. "Lucy, remember this. No matter what happens, you owe me." Even after all these years, those words echoed in Lucille's mind, a constant reminder that she had failed to protect her sister. She couldn't remember how many times Larica had hurled those words at her, but each time she did, Lucille would succumb to guilt and fall into the same emotional trap. Lucille watched her sister's expression, her heart heavy with frustration and sorrow. "Rica, please, try to understand. I wanted to save you. I did. But we were both young and helpless. The kidnapper also knocked me out. What could I possibly have done after that?" Lucille reasoned, hoping to make her sister see the truth. "I was willing to bear all the pain for you back then, Rica," Lucille continued, her voice filled with sincerity as she delved into the memories of that fateful year. On the day of the incident, Lucille's classmates played a cruel prank on her, tricking her into eating mangoes despite her severe allergy. Her face swelled up, and she returned home looking terrible since she had no medication. This condition made the kidnappers overlook her and choose to harm Larica instead. But no matter how many times Lucille recounted the truth, nobody believed her. She could still vividly recall the horrifying moments when the kidnappers started to harm her sister. Lucille had done everything in her power to protect Larica. She had rushed towards them, desperately trying to stop the kidnappers from doing further harm. But due to her weakened state, she immediately lost consciousness when one of the kidnappers slapped her. Since then, Larica had always insisted that Lucille had feigned unconsciousness, blaming her for the terrible fate she had endured. "No need to sugarcoat your words. We both know that it was me who was hurt and not you. You will never understand how terrible it was," Larica coldly declared, refusing to acknowledge Lucille's perspective. Lucille closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the years of pain and misunderstanding between them. They had been trapped in this cycle of accusation and blame for far too long. She knew her words would never penetrate the walls that Larica had built around herself. "You say I owe you," Lucille whispered, her voice tinged with resignation. She reached for the pen and the folder containing the divorce agreement, her gaze steady on Larica. "Will you finally find happiness if I give you my husband?" She had fulfilled Larica's demands for years, willingly accepting punishment and taking the blame to protect her sister. She had always prioritized Larica's well-being above her own. She thought this day would be no different, and she would gladly choose her sister over herself as she had done before. "Yes," Larica answered without a second thought. "I adore him and am happy to be with him." Larica looked serious in answering Lucille's question. But she knew she would hesitate if her older sister asked the same question before. However, at that moment, it was different. Larica was sure that she loved Lucas more than her life. Despite having to decide with a heavy heart, Lucille willingly lets her sister have her way. Lucille knew that Lucas was a bit of a neat freak like her. So she didn't expect Lucas to cheat on her. But even if the woman he cheated on her with weren't Larica, she wouldn't take Lucas back. She couldn't tolerate a cheating man. She had pride and self-respect. She wouldn't waste her time on someone that no longer wanted her. Even if that meant all their years together would go down the drain. 'One last time,' Lucille thought before sighing and facing her sister. "Alright. I'll give Lucas to you. But I warn you, Rica, this will be the last time. I will never let you have your way again without a fight," Lucille stated intently. The Reed Family was in an absolute mess after the death of Lucas' grandfather. Many of his relatives had been eyeing the Reed Group for a long time. The entire clan must be fighting over the company at this moment. If anything, Larica saved her from that mess and signed herself in for their circus. Regardless, given Larica's temperament, Lucille still worried about her. But this would be a good chance for Larica to realize the consequences of her actions, the price she had to pay for taking advantage of other people. Knowing that she had won over Lucille again, Larica's previously pale expression turned bright. Finally, Lucas belonged to her. She beamed and proudly smiled as if she had accomplished something remarkable. Then she grimly forewarned, "Don't worry, sister. From now on, you won't have anything for me to take."

"Don't worry, sister. From now on, you won't have anything for me to take," Larica declared with a smug smirk. Lucille paid little attention to her words, recognizing that Larica was referring to the fact that Lucille would soon be leaving the house she had shared with Lucas after the divorce. It no longer mattered to Lucille what her sister thought she could gain. Despite the anger that had welled inside her earlier, seeing Larica's victorious smile oddly gave Lucille a sense of relief. She had successfully fulfilled Larica's demands over the years, and now, she no longer felt obligated to her sister after all this time. The decision to divorce Lucas didn't frighten her. Lucille knew she could support herself. The weight of the past incident still burdened her, but Lucille believed that she had paid enough for her failure to protect her sister. She looked directly at Larica, who had a cunning smirk and reminded her, "Don't forget what we agreed upon. I hope you follow through with your words." The folder and pen in Lucille's hands felt heavy, but she knew she had to go through with it. With trembling fingers, Lucille signed her name on the divorce agreement. She didn't allow her sister to witness any weakness, swiftly throwing the documents toward Larica. Walking out of the room, Lucille held her head high, refusing to falter even when she faced her now ex-husband, Lucas. He seemed uneasy, and Lucille felt suffocated, but she maintained her composure. "I have signed the agreement. I hope you treat my sister well in the future," Lucille stated coldly. "Don't betray her as you did to me," she added before walking past Lucas without looking back. Lucille appeared unfazed by the turn of events. There were no tears or traces of sadness in her eyes. It made one wonder if her love and care for Lucas during their marriage had been genuine or if she had been putting on an act all along. Could it be that Lucille had only pretended to care? Lucas felt a pang of bewilderment as he watched her departing figure. His mother had prepared the divorce agreement without including any provisions for Lucille's entitlement to their property. He had anticipated Lucille would cry and plead with him not to let her go, but he never expected her to give up so easily. A sense of guilt crept into Lucas' conscience as he clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words. "Lu... Lucy," he stammered, his voice filled with uncertainty. Lucille held back the tears that threatened to escape and took a deep breath. Slowly, she turned around, her expression devoid of any emotion. When their eyes met, Lucille addressed him with a neutral tone devoid of lingering sentiment. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Reed?" she asked, maintaining her composure even in the face of their crumbling relationship. Lucas felt uneasy witnessing the rapid change in the person who had cared for him in the past three years. It was as if he was facing a completely different person. However, he couldn't find a reason to argue against it. After all, they were on the brink of divorce, and there seemed to be no room for negotiation. As he averted his gaze, Lucas made an offer, his voice filled with hesitation. "How many properties do you want? I-I can give them to you privately...." Lucille nearly burst into laughter at his stammering and the absurdity of his offer. How could a well-known filial son in Asheville provide her with anything? His mother managed his entire financial affairs, and he couldn't even give her a penny without seeking his mother's approval. In reality, Lucille had to provide for herself. Now he was asking what she wanted in terms of alimony. She couldn't help but wonder how he intended to fulfill that request. Lucas may now be the President of Reed Corp, but his private funds couldn't possibly support a quarter of the city's economic growth. "How much are you prepared to give me, Mr. Reed?" Lucille blurted out with a bright smile, stunning Lucas. The genuine warmth in Lucille's expression intensified Lucas' guilt, causing him to inadvertently add more zeros to his offer than he had intended. Her face betrayed no trace of anger or sadness. It was as if she was merely conversing with a friend. "Fifty million," he finally uttered. Lucille was taken aback upon hearing his offer. She believed Lucas could provide her with around a million from his private funds. However, she never anticipated that he would go the extra mile and offer such a substantial amount of money. Just a few steps away, Larica had emerged, wondering why Lucas was taking so long. Overhearing his offer, she grew infuriated. She glared at Lucille with crossed arms, although Lucas remained oblivious to her reaction. Larica approached Lucas, sensually taking his hand in hers. "Let me handle this," she pleaded, pouting and feigning tears. As Lucas nodded, Larica wiped away her imaginary tears and stepped towards Lucille. "Lucille, I know you've always considered money to be worth less than dirt, and accepting it would undoubtedly humiliate you, but...." she started, attempting to convince her sister to decline the offer. Larica sobbed, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, accept this money. Lucas and I are truly sorry for what happened. If you take it, it will bring peace to our hearts." Once again, Lucas fell for Larica's act of selling misery. He found it heartwarming to see Larica embracing Lucille, convinced that his beloved Rica genuinely felt remorse for her sister. Unbeknownst to him, Larica's expression turned ugly as she whispered under her breath, "Don't you dare accept that money, Lucy." Lucille gently broke away from Larica's embrace and locked eyes with her sister. Larica sensed that Lucille had already decided and confidently expected her to decline the offer. "Since accepting the money will bring peace to your heart, who am I to refuse?" Lucille said with a genuine smile, cupping Larica's cheek. She then turned her attention to Lucas. "Mr. Reed, would you prefer to transfer the money directly to my account or provide me with a check?" Lucille couldn't hide her satisfaction upon seeing the bitter expression on Larica's face. Lucille stood her ground and resisted Larica's demands for the first time in ten years. Larica seethed and badly wanted to grab Lucille's hair and yank it until she went bald, but she knew she couldn't do it with Lucas around. The thought of losing fifty million dollars made Larica feel sick. Her stomach cramped, and she fell forward. "Rica!" Lucas exclaimed, concerned for her well-being. Fortunately, Lucille caught Larica before she hit the floor, whispering in her ear, "I already told you I will never let you steal from me again." Larica shot Lucille a murderous glare and clenched her arm tightly before losing consciousness. "It seems more than just normal stomach pain. It could be gastroenteritis. It would be best if you took her to the hospital right away," Lucille urged with a hint of urgency. However, Lucas just stood there, seemingly at a loss. "Aren't you a doctor? Why don't you examine her?" he asked. Lucille rolled her eyes before responding, "I'm a surgeon, not a physician. As for the money, transfer it to my account when you can. I'll send you my card number." She glanced at Larica once more and added, "Hurry up. If you delay, it could become life-threatening." Larica's pale complexion finally convinced Lucas that Lucille wasn't exaggerating, and he immediately scooped Larica into his arms and rushed out, heading for the hospital. Left alone at last, Lucille's carefully constructed facade crumbled, and she collapsed to her knees. Suppressing her emotions had taken an immense toll on her, but she couldn't let them see her pain. She had to pretend it didn't matter, so they wouldn't derive satisfaction from hurting her. Deep down, Lucille had truly loved Lucas and had invested herself in their three-year marriage, striving for harmony. Yet, he betrayed her by sleeping with her sister behind her back. Worse, their marriage was a sham, and he called her a dirty slut. Throughout her life, Lucille had grown accustomed to putting on a tough front, facing her battles alone without anyone extending a helping hand. Now, in the eerie silence of the corridor, she could hear her heart pounding painfully in her chest. The weight of it all suffocated her, and she wept in solitude. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through the back of her head, reminding her of the earlier injury she had sustained. She reached up to touch the area and found blood on her fingertips, a physical manifestation of her defeat. Just then, her phone rang from her pocket, and the timing couldn't have been worse. "The most romantic thing I can think of is growing old with you…." Was the universe taunting her with the lyrics from a random song, mocking her in this moment of despair? Lucille knew she had to maintain her composure despite the flood of emotions. As a doctor, she had been trained to remain rational in the face of adversity. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her thoughts aside and swiped to answer the call. "Oh, thank goodness you picked up, Doctor! Do you remember the patient you treated earlier? He's scheduled for surgery today, and he specifically requested your presence in the operating room," the caller rushed to explain before letting out a sigh. "We informed him that you had taken leave, but he insisted—" Lucille interrupted, her professional instincts kicking in. "It's alright. I'll be there soon!"

After ending the call, Lucille hurriedly straightened her clothes. Despite her chest's heaviness and swollen eyes from crying, she knew she had to push through. The operation would last several hours, and she hadn't had anything to eat. She quickly dialed the coffee shop next to the hospital where she worked, requesting a cheesecake and coffee to be prepared. Getting into her car, Lucille drove towards the hospital, trying to clear her mind of the recent events. Upon arrival, she quickly stopped at the coffee shop, paying for her order before heading towards the hospital's basement parking lot. With the cheesecake in hand and the warm coffee cup in the other, Lucille began munching on the sweet treat as she walked, her phone still clutched. Just as she was about twelve feet from the elevator, a tall man stepped inside and pressed the close button. Realizing she was in a hurry for the operation, Lucille called out desperately, "Sir! Excuse me. Please wait a minute!" Thankfully, the elevator doors reopened before fully closing, and Lucille sighed as she hurriedly stepped inside. However, in her haste, her foot caught on the entrance, causing her to stumble forward. Time seemed to slow down as Lucille desperately tried to regain her balance. The coffee cup in her hand floated in the air, its contents spilling onto the man's crotch. Gasping in horror, Lucille instinctively acted, reaching for a tissue from the bakery bag to wipe the affected area. She was grateful that the coffee hadn't been scalding hot, but the embarrassment and guilt flooded over her. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Lucille repeatedly apologized, her voice filled with genuine remorse as she continued to dab at the stains. The repetitive act of apologizing disgusted her at that moment. Throughout her life, she always immediately apologized for any wrongdoing, fearing severe consequences. Perhaps this ingrained habit allowed people, especially her own family, to trample over her. Lucille resolved to change this pattern for her well-being. Meanwhile, consumed by her task of drying the stains, Lucille failed to notice the man's intense gaze. When she finally looked up to meet his eyes, time seemed to freeze. His strikingly handsome features swept her off her feet for the second time that day. She was rendered speechless, captivated by the depth of his gaze. Since meeting Lucas, Lucille had believed he was the most handsome man she would ever encounter in her lifetime. But standing before her now, this man eclipsed Lucas entirely. Radiating an air of cold confidence and arrogance, he possessed the visage of a Greek sculpture crafted by the gods. His deep, dark eyes, calm and mysterious, held a dangerous and untamed allure, stirring a feeling within Lucille that defied description. 'Sexy,' she thought, her mind momentarily consumed by her undeniable attraction towards this enigmatic stranger. Lucille's prolonged gaze into his eyes had caused her to forget their compromising position inside the elevator. She was all too aware of the potential scandal it would become if any of her colleagues caught wind of the situation. She couldn't afford such notoriety as a respected surgeon at the hospital. Reality abruptly jolted her back to the present, and she realized the awkwardness of their circumstances. Embarrassment flooded her, not just for the inconvenience she had caused but for preserving her dignity. Clearing her throat, Lucille mustered the courage to speak. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to cause any harm. I was in a hurry and..." Her attempt to explain was cut short as she slipped on the still-wet floor, ending up back on her knees before the mysterious man. In her unsteady state, her arms unintentionally reached out, clinging to his thigh, while her head ended up perilously close to a rather compromising area. At that precise moment, the elevator doors opened, and a man walked in. It was Kevin, a colleague of Lucille's. "Sir Moore, Miss Ward, she..." Kevin's voice trailed off as his eyes widened, taking in the scene before him. His mouth gaped open in surprise, his gaze shifting from the woman on the floor to the stain on his boss's trousers and finally settling on his boss's face. Sir Henry Moore, typically noble, solemn, and seemingly untouchable, now appeared furious, as if Kevin had interrupted something of great significance. Or at least, that was how Kevin imagined it. "Oh! I didn't see anything. You can continue!" Kevin blurted out, quickly turning around to hide his concealed delight. Coughing awkwardly, he pretended to have seen nothing, eager to give his boss some privacy. His boss, Henry Moore, had always been a paragon of virtue, rarely seen in the company of women. Now, it seemed he had finally discovered some form of enlightenment. Who was Kevin to deny him that? 'But isn't it a bit too wild to engage in such activities in the hospital elevator?' Kevin pondered, stroking his chin thoughtfully, his mind swirling with curiosity. His boss turned out to have the sultry and vulgar type. Kevin wondered how his boss managed to hide his preferences from him despite being together most of the time. Meanwhile, Lucille desperately wished for the elevator floor to magically give way and whisk her out of the awkward situation. Gathering her composure, she quickly rose to her feet and nervously handed Kevin her business card. "I assumed you were his secretary. Here's my card. I'm Lucille Powell, and I work here. I'm on my way to the operating room, so I'm in quite a hurry. I would be more than willing to cover the cost of the damage. Please leave your bank card number at the information desk, and I will wire you the money once I'm free," she blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush as the elevator doors opened, revealing her floor just in the nick of time. Without waiting for a response or daring to glance back, Lucille nodded hastily and briskly walked out of the elevator. She knew the man's eyes were fixed upon her, but time was of the essence, and she had no room for further embarrassment. 'What has gotten into you today?' she scolded herself inwardly, criticizing her clumsiness. Kevin stole a glance at his boss, taking note of the intensity with which Henry stared at Lucille. There was something undeniably amusing about the entire situation. Suppressing a chuckle, Kevin couldn't help but find humor in the way Henry looked at that moment. "Sir, should I arrange for a spare..." Kevin began, only to be swiftly interrupted by Henry Moore. "I'm fine. Go and gather information about that woman," Henry instructed, glancing down at the coffee stains on his trousers. Kevin's excitement grew as they exited the elevator and made their way to the VIP ward. Rumors of Henry's sexuality had circulated for years, and seeing him in the presence of a woman now piqued Kevin's curiosity to new heights. Could it be that his boss had finally been interested in the fairer sex? The mere thought brought Kevin a mischievous smile, earning him a puzzled squint from Henry as they walked on.

Meanwhile, Lucille sighed in relief, grateful that the mysterious man from the elevator hadn't followed her. Collecting herself, she took a deep breath and swiftly changed into scrubs and a white coat in the changing room. Stepping out, she inadvertently collided with Nurse Cindy, who seemed quite flustered. "What's going on? Are you in a rush?" Lucille furrowed her brow, observing Cindy's anxious expression. "I'm so glad you're here!" Cindy exclaimed, clutching her clipboard tightly. "If you hadn't shown up, that patient would have caused a scene on the operating table, no doubt." She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated by the situation. Offering a reassuring pat on Cindy's shoulder, Lucille smiled and headed toward the patient's ward. She could hear the patient's distressed cries as soon as she entered. Cindy had been right—this patient was proving to be quite difficult for the nursing staff. Letting out a soft sigh, Lucille approached with a gentle demeanor. She greeted the patient and tenderly wiped away his tears. A smile immediately brightened the elderly patient's face upon seeing Lucille, but he voiced his complaint, "I don't want an injection." "Don't worry. The anesthesia will help you not to feel any pain. Please cooperate with us, okay?" Lucille coaxed him. Her voice filled with reassurance. After some time and a patient explanation, he finally relented, and the nurses quickly prepared to transport him to the operating room. Ethan, the doctor overseeing the operation, approached Lucille with a warm smile, praising her skills. "You're truly exceptional at dealing with patients." Shaking her head modestly, Lucille waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not that extraordinary. It's just that patients trust me." "Let's begin the operation, shall we?" she said, her smile unwavering as she followed the team. With everyone prepared and adequately sanitized, they administered anesthesia to the patient and initiated the surgical procedure. Lucille took charge of the surgical tray, ensuring the instruments were for Ethan. Although Lucille had already become a skilled surgeon, she recognized the importance of continuously learning from her experienced colleagues. While she had performed numerous minor surgeries, leading a complex brain surgery was still a challenge she aspired to attain. During her residency at the hospital, she frequently collaborated with Ethan, a renowned neurosurgeon and the head doctor. Their professional relationship had developed into a seamless understanding, making their collaboration effortless. Observing Lucille's pale complexion, Ethan couldn't help but furrow his brows, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you feeling unwell? Your face appears pale. Since the patient is under anesthesia, you can take a break and rest." Caught off guard, Lucille stared blankly for a moment before responding, "No, I'm fine. Let's proceed." Meanwhile, inside the VIP ward, a beautiful patient sat on the hospital bed, her brows furrowed in frustration. With a furious glare, she ignored the food served to her by the man standing before her. "Do you think I won't inform Henry that you're neglecting your duties, Kevin? You have no concern for me, do you?" Iris shouted, but Kevin remained silent. "Why hasn't Henry arrived yet? Answer me!" She seethed, but her words were brushed aside as Kevin maintained his silence. Taking a deep breath, she growled, "Once I marry Henry, firing you will be the first thing I do!" "Miss-" Kevin attempted to respond, but his words were stifled when someone interrupted him. "Whom do you wish to terminate?" A cold voice resonated, causing both Kevin and Iris to freeze in their positions. They turned their heads to find Henry entering the ward. Henry strode in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He exuded casual elegance, wearing a white shirt and black pants. Unlike his usual imposing presence, he seemed unthreatening, yet every movement carried an undercurrent of awe-inspiring majesty. His eyes, devoid of emotional fluctuations, held a depth as impenetrable as the ocean's abyss. No one could decipher what thoughts resided within him. "Who offended you, Miss Ward?" Henry raised an eyebrow. "Henry!" Iris cooed, her initial anger dissolving into a bashful smile upon seeing him. "With your protection, no one dares to cross me." As Iris spoke, she cast dagger-like glares at Kevin, but her expression softened when she faced Henry. "I'm still unfamiliar with the script I received, so I'm practicing my lines." "I warned you that acting is challenging, but you didn't listen. Now, you've injured your legs because of it. If your grandparents find out, I'm sure they'll forbid you from pursuing acting again," Henry stated flatly, his words striking a chord of fear within Iris. Anxiously, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. "No, please! Don't let them know. I love acting, and I don't know what I would do if I had to quit. It's the only passion I have..." Iris thrived on attention, and acting was her avenue to showcase her beauty. Moreover, being supported by the influential Moore family provided her with a shield against any trouble in the entertainment industry. Although she entered through privileged means, she took pride in her craft. Within two years, she had risen from an inexperienced newcomer to an A-list celebrity, leveraging her connections. Still in the prime of her life, the thought of retiring prematurely felt like a waste of all her efforts. As an actress, Iris could effortlessly conjure tears. She gazed at Henry with a tearful expression, blinking her sorrowful eyes. Observing her display, Henry sighed, gently retracting his hand and offering reassurance. "Don't worry. I won't tell them. Come on, have something to eat." A sense of loss began to creep over Iris as she realized Henry was setting a boundary. She bit her lip, suppressing her emotions. After all her efforts, she couldn't afford to let that line come between them. A coy smile flickered across her lips, and she murmured, "I know you always treat me the best!" Yet, her attempts to sway him always fell flat. Henry didn't respond and simply gestured for her to eat. Once they finished their meal, he glanced at his watch and prepared to leave. Just as he was about to depart, Iris grabbed his hand. "Can you stay with me tonight? It's dreadful to be alone here, and I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep." "I still have something to attend to," Henry promptly refused without a second thought. Upon hearing his words, tears welled up in Iris' eyes. She gazed at him with wide, teary eyes, her trembling lashes giving away her emotions. Impatience crept into Henry's heart, yet he managed to maintain composure and nodded. He settled himself on the couch, eliciting a sense of happiness from Iris. She reclined back and closed her eyes, eventually succumbing to a deep sleep. The moment Iris drifted off, Henry stood up and glanced at Kevin before striding out of the ward. Kevin stole a final look at Iris before following in his footsteps. Meanwhile, a grueling four-hour surgery had finally concluded inside the operating room. "The operation was a success," Ethan announced with a relieved smile that reverberated throughout the medical team. They carefully transferred the patient to a stretcher bed, and the nurses swiftly wheeled him out of the operating room en route to his designated ward. Taking a deep breath, Lucille gingerly massaged her head. Dizziness overwhelmed her, and her temples throbbed with piercing pain. Someone beat her to it just as she was about to remove her surgical cap. "What happened, Lucy? Did someone harm you?" Ethan's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the dried bloodstain on the back of her neck, large enough to indicate a significant wound. His question brought back the events from earlier, and a mixture of complex emotions flickered in Lucille's eyes, which glistened momentarily with unshed tears. However, she swiftly regained her composure. Smiling calmly, she replied placidly, "No one has hit me, Ethan. It was just an accidental injury." As a colleague who had worked alongside Lucille for many years, Ethan couldn't help but sense that something was amiss. Yet, he wouldn't push her to share it if she didn't wish to. Taking a deep breath, he expressed his helplessness, "I'll help you clean and disinfect it." Lucille nodded, and together they made their way to the nurse station. Ethan carefully cleaned and bandaged her wound. Just as they were about to leave the station, their path was blocked by four men donning police uniforms. "Excuse me, we're looking for Ms. Lucille Powell. Does she work here?" one of them inquired. Lucille froze, confused and nervous, enveloping her upon hearing her name. A sense of foreboding settled in as if she could anticipate the intent behind their presence.

It was the first time Lucille had encountered the police seeking her out. Though internally gripped by fear, she fought to maintain composure. Clenching her fist, she took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. "I am Lucille Powell, Officer. May I ask why you are looking for me?" she managed to utter, her voice tinged with a tremor. She dug her nails deep into her flesh, desperate to remain composed despite the mounting dread. The police officer explained, "We are here to investigate a report that suspects you may be connected to a pre-murder case. We kindly request your presence at the station to assist us in our investigation." The news struck Lucille with disbelief, leaving her momentarily stunned. She could only stare at the officers in shock, the weight of the situation threatening to overwhelm her. Eventually, her legs gave way, but Ethan swiftly caught her before she hit the ground. Wearing a stern expression, Ethan addressed the police, "Officer. I believe there must be some misunderstanding here. Lucy is a compassionate doctor. How could she possibly be involved in a murder case? Spreading such allegations would irreparably damage her reputation. I urge you to conduct a thorough investigation." Before the police officer could respond, a shrill voice pierced through the air, interrupting their conversation. "They are not mistaken! She is a murderer!" Lucille's gaze shifted forward, and her heart sank as she saw Claudia and Lucas stepping out of the elevator, striding purposefully toward them. Their faces were contorted with disdain. Claudia stopped in front of Lucille, her eyes bloodshot with anger, and delivered a sudden slap without warning. Stunned and still feeling the effects of her injury, Lucille failed to evade the blow, staggering backward and clutching her cheek in confusion. Gasping, she held her reddened cheek, her mind racing with bewilderment. 'Why is she accusing me of something I didn't do?' Reacting swiftly, Ethan caught Lucille as she almost fell, preventing further harm. Anger surged within him as he observed the palm print on her cheek and the trace of blood at the corner of her mouth. He glared at Claudia, swiftly positioning himself protectively in front of Lucille. Consumed by fury and devoid of rationality, Claudia was determined to make Lucille suffer. She lunged toward her, intent on inflicting more harm. However, before her hand could reach Lucille's face, Ethan seized her wrist and forcefully pushed her back, using all his strength to keep her at bay. Claudia stumbled and fell to the floor, her expression one of disbelief. Lucas rushed to her aid, glaring at Ethan, who remained unfazed by his presence. Ethan's face, usually composed, darkened like charcoal, his jaw repeatedly clenching in anger. "Mrs. Reed, let me remind you that we are in a hospital. I can file a lawsuit against you for assaulting one of our esteemed doctors. While the Reed family may be one of the most affluent in this city, your current behavior does not befit your background. Do you really want to become tomorrow's headline?" Claudia bit her lip, realizing the consequences of her actions. She suppressed her seething anger, mindful of her social standing. However, it didn't stop her from issuing a warning to Lucille. "Merely being protected by someone won't shield you from legal consequences, Lucille. I will ensure that you rot in hell!" Claudia's eyes blazed with intense hatred as she glared at Lucille, wishing to tear her apart. "Mom, you know me well! How could I possibly have killed Grandpa Ricky?" Lucille gasped, unable to comprehend the accusation from the woman she had considered her mother for the past three years. Although she and Lucas had recently divorced, it didn't negate their three years together. How could they brand her as a murderer without conducting a proper investigation? Instead of softening her stance, Claudia's anger intensified, her ears buzzing at the mention of 'mom.' "Don't call me mother! You are no longer my son's wife, and I refuse to acknowledge a murderer like you as my daughter-in-law! You are vile! Why did you kill him? He showered you with love, and you repaid him by poisoning him to death!" she bellowed. Lucille felt a piercing pain in her heart as she heard hatred in Claudia's words. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized they didn't believe her innocence. Trembling, she turned to Lucas, her voice quivering as she asked, "Do you also believe that I killed Grandpa?" Desperate to know if there was still a glimmer of trust in Lucas, Lucille searched his eyes, hoping to find some belief in her innocence. She valued his opinion because, despite the false pretense of their marriage, her feelings for him had always been genuine. The memories they shared couldn't simply vanish overnight. She hoped that he would at least have faith in her even if he didn't love her anymore. But Lucas responded with a disdainful snigger, his gaze ice-cold as he looked at her tear-stained face. There was no trace of pity in his eyes; instead, deep-seated loathing and disgust emanated from him. "I wouldn't have thought you capable of such a thing, but the evidence was undeniable," Lucas said, his voice filled with contempt. Confused and desperate to defend herself, Lucille tried to speak up. "I don't-" But Lucas cut her off, gripping a white bottle tightly as he sneered. "There's a video of you poisoning Grandpa. This bottle was found in your room, and the toxin identified matches what was found in Grandpa's body. Now, how can you expect me to believe in your innocence?" His words echoed through the entire lobby, drawing the attention of onlookers. He pulled out his phone and played the surveillance video, further shattering Lucille's faith in herself. Lucille refused to accept the truth of Lucas's accusations. She knew deep down that she had done nothing wrong. However, doubt began to creep in as the video played before her eyes. She watched herself surreptitiously open the bottle, take two white pills, and mix them into a glass of water, which she then gave Richard Reed. The serene expression on his face quickly turned into agony, and he collapsed, unconscious. Shock paralyzed Lucille as her pupils dilated. She moved closer to the screen, desperately searching for any sign that someone else was impersonating her in the video, but there was nothing to suggest otherwise. The woman in the video was undeniably her. 'How is this possible?! I have no recollection of it! How could I have done such a thing?' Her mind screamed in denial, refusing to accept the horrifying truth. "No, it can't be... I didn't do it," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. The evidence was irrefutable, but she couldn't reconcile it with the person she knew herself to be. Anxiety and confusion overwhelmed her, causing her legs to weaken, and she collapsed to the floor. Everything felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Just moments ago, she had discovered Lucas's affair with her sister, and now she found herself accused of a murder she had no memory of committing. Tears streamed down her face as she yearned for it all to be a figment of her imagination. She buried her face in her hands and wept silently, hoping everything would return to normal when she looked up. But no matter how desperately she wished for it, the reality before her eyes remained unchanged. The weight of it all crushed her spirit. Impatience flickered across Lucas's face as he observed Lucille's broken figure on the floor. His voice turned icy as he declared, "You're wicked. You killed Grandpa, who only ever showered you with love. The only way to atone for your sin, Lucille, is with your own life." His words jolted Lucille out of her grief-stricken trance. She stared at him in disbelief, unable to fathom that he could desire her death. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. "Lucille Powell, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Richard Reed," announced the police officer as he restrained her with handcuffs. Lucille didn't resist, as if her spirit had been drained from her. Her eyes were empty, clouded with self-blame and confusion. "How could I have killed Grandpa?" she repeated in a dazed and broken voice. Meanwhile, a man stood silently, observing the unfolding events at a distance. Henry's brow furrowed as he witnessed Lucille's vacant expression, her life force seemingly extinguished. A profound glimmer of determination flashed in his eyes.

Later that day, Kevin made his way toward Henry's office, his excitement palpable. Inside the elevator, he couldn't help but fidget, his anticipation growing with each passing floor. He had just received Lucille's background report and was eager to present it to Henry. And why wouldn't he be? This was the first time in his career that his boss had shown an interest in a woman. As soon as Henry had given him the task, Kevin devoted himself to being the best wingman. He had delved into Lucille's background, tirelessly gathering every information he could find. He had compiled a comprehensive dossier on Lucille in hours, covering her life from childhood to adulthood. However, as he read through the report, Kevin couldn't help but feel a tinge of dissatisfaction with what he had discovered. It turned out that Lucille had recently been involved in a murder case. Nevertheless, since she was the woman who had captured Henry's interest, he decided to keep his reservations to himself. As long as her presence could quash the rumors about Henry's involvement with other men, Kevin was willing to overlook any flaws she might have. With a proud smile, Kevin held up the tablet, thrilled about his boss's blossoming romance, and stepped out of the elevator into Henry's office. "President Moore, here's the information you requested," Kevin announced, presenting the iPad as a precious treasure. He looked at Henry expectantly, silently seeking approval. However, Henry simply accepted the device without saying a word. As Henry scrolled through the information, his brows furrowed, and his expression quickly turned cold. In an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and Kevin couldn't help but wonder if there had been a mistake in the report. Henry's lips turned downward, and the icy look in his eyes sent a shiver down Kevin's spine. His natural coldness and aloofness amplified whenever he wore that expression. Kevin often felt like he was playing a game of charades, trying to decipher Henry's thoughts. He knew that when something upset the boss, it could have severe consequences—people fainting or even having heart attacks. Right now, Kevin feared he might pass out from the tension in the room. Meanwhile, at the police station, Lucille remained silent, unresponsive to the officers' questions and statements. Her gaze was vacant as if their words couldn't penetrate her mind. After a considerable amount of time trying to extract information from her in vain, the police decided to lock her in a cell. It was well past midnight when Lucille was confined in a dark and damp room, sending chills down her spine. Huddled in a corner, she held onto her knees, trembling from the cold. Until that moment, she had refused to accept what had transpired. Just yesterday, she had been the respected young lady of the Reed family, attending her beloved Grandpa Ricky's funeral. But now, everything had crumbled, and she had been swiftly convicted of murder. How could she come to terms with such a life-altering turn of events? Desperation and dread coursed through Lucille's veins, suffocating her. She covered her ears as Lucas' accusatory words echoed in her mind, repeating like a relentless curse. "I didn't do it," she murmured, shivering in denial. Yet, no matter how desperately she tried to convince herself otherwise, the damning video evidence captured her committing the act. It was crystal clear that she had killed Richard. Lucas' words acted as a haunting mantra, growing louder with each passing moment, gradually convincing her that she had taken the life of the man who had cared for her. Outside, rain poured relentlessly, accompanied by the rumble of distant thunder in the dark gray sky. A lightning bolt struck the ground, illuminating the gloomy room. Lucille almost screamed as she saw Richard's anguished expression before her. He stared at her, his presence eerie, and spoke with an ethereal voice, "You're so heartless, Lucy. Why did you kill me?" Wide-eyed and filled with desperation, she shook her head vigorously, trembling. "Grandpa, please believe me! I didn't kill you..." At that moment, a chilling pair of hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing life out of her. She struggled, unwilling to face the apparition, but was compelled to meet its eyes. "You took my life, so now you shall pay with your own!" it bellowed in her face. Lucille was paralyzed at her breaking point as tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall. She could no longer bear the psychological torment. With a resolve born out of desperation, she decided and offered a surrendering smile. "Alright, Grandpa. If sacrificing my life is the only way for you to forgive me, then I'll do it..." Lucille declared resolutely. Rising to her feet, she bit her lip and forcefully smashed her head against the wall. A searing pain overwhelmed her senses, and she instantly lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor with blood trickling from her head. As Lucille eventually regained consciousness, she was no longer in a prison cell but in a dimly lit room. Her mind was still fuzzy from her two concussions within twenty-four hours. She couldn't immediately comprehend her surroundings. 'Could this be hell?' she pondered, but something felt off compared to what she had seen depicted on television. She glanced around, noting the absence of fire and wandering ghosts that she had imagined hell to be filled with. "Are you awake?" a hair-raising voice suddenly pierced through the room, causing Lucille to freeze. A chilling sensation crept from the depths of her heart as she listened to the cold and piercing tone. She had never encountered such a voice except in her imagination of the lord of hell. Trying to maintain composure, she forced herself to speak. "Your grace, the lord of hell?" she greeted, bowing slightly, instinctively attempting to show respect to avoid potential torture. 'Lord of hell?' Henry repeated silently in his head. His lips twitched at the absurdity of Lucille's assumption. 'Does she think this well-air-conditioned room is hell? Is she truly that naive? When did hell become a place of comfort?' "Why did you commit suicide?" He asked in a frigid tone, questioning Lucille's actions. Her body stiffened, and memories of her untimely demise flooded her mind, eliciting a bitter smile at the corner of her lips. The pain she had endured resurfaced, creating a suffocating sensation in her chest. Letting out a mocking laugh, she replied, assuming that the lord of hell was merely going through the motions before condemning her to punishment. "The husband I loved and cherished for three years betrayed me by having an affair with my sister. Isn't it ironic? I placed my trust in them, and they shattered it. Well, I've grown accustomed to Rica taking everything from me, so I shouldn't be surprised that Lucas caught her eye as well," Lucille's voice trembled with a mix of anger, pain, and suffering. Tears streamed down her face as she continued, "But their betrayal pales in comparison to the crime I've committed. I, I killed the only person who cared about me..." Overwhelmed by emotions, Lucille could no longer contain her tears as she broke down completely. "The only way I can seek redemption is by offering my life." In her distressed state, a glimmer of sanity returned to her mind, prompting her to ask a crucial question. "Are you certain that I was the one who murdered him?" Henry pursed his lips, squinting his eyes as he contemplated her words. "What do you mean?" Lucille asked, bewildered by his response. "Your grace, do you know the truth? Do you know who killed him?" She pleaded desperately, searching the darkness for any sign of his presence. Henry moved away, and a sudden searing pain shot through her thigh, causing her to hiss in agony. "Does it hurt?" he questioned, his tone cold and detached. "It hurts!" Lucille instinctively responded, but then a realization struck her like lightning. Her eyes widened, confirming her suspicion. "I didn't die?" "What do you think?" he retorted sarcastically, a hint of amusement in his voice. Realizing she was alive and not in hell, Lucille's guard was up. She retreated until her back was pressed against the headboard. "Then who are you? Why did you pretend to be the devil?" Henry couldn't help but laugh. "Did I ever claim to be the devil or the lord of hell?" Lucille fell silent, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. 'You certainly made it seem that way!' she silently retorted. Gradually, the gravity of her situation sank in. 'If I'm still alive and this isn't hell, then who is this stranger?' Hugging her knees tightly, she mustered her courage and cautiously inquired, "If we're not in hell, then who are you? And what do you plan to do with me?"