Late at night, the hospital room was silent. Moonlight spilled onto the floor like cold mercury, and even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Alia lay on her side at the edge of the bed, watching Marcellus's sleeping face, his lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. Her throat moved slightly as she swallowed—she had made her decision. She couldn't keep hiding anymore.
She spoke in a low voice, as if afraid to wake something—or afraid she was already too late.
"Marcellus… I have to tell you… I'm not Livia."
The moment the words left her lips, time itself seemed to stop.
Marcellus opened his eyes, pupils narrowing in the darkness.
"What did you say?" He sat up sharply, his tone suddenly icy.
Alia bit her lip. Her voice stayed soft, but there was steel beneath it.
"I'm not her… My name is Alia. I'm someone else. I… I pretended to be Livia because—"
"Why did you lie to me?" His voice tore like shredded silk.
"You know how much I loved her… And you—you—stole her name, her face, her love—"
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the doorway—real, distinct. A figure stepped slowly into the room.
It was Livia—the real Livia. Her gaze was calm, yet filled with sorrow.
"You…" Marcellus froze, his mind buzzing, his thoughts crashing over each other like waves.
He turned back to Alia, fury and confusion crashing through his eyes like a storm.
"You lied to me… You stole the most important thing in my life!"
"Marcellus, please—just listen—" Alia tried to approach him, but he shoved her away with a harsh motion.
"Why?" His voice trembled.
"Why did it have to be you?"
And then, a gunshot shattered the silence. Livia collapsed, blood seeping from her chest and soaking the hospital bed's white sheets.
Alia stared in horror.
"You're insane! You killed her!"
Tears streamed down Marcellus's face, his expression twisted with pain, and the barrel of the gun slowly turned toward her.
"There shouldn't be two of you… You need to disappear too—"
"No—!!"
Alia screamed and jolted awake, drenched in sweat, chest heaving violently.
The room was still the same—quiet, dim, bathed in moonlight. Marcellus lay beside her, fast asleep, his face serene and utterly at peace. So unlike the madness in her dream.
She sat up slowly, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
She knew it had only been a dream—but it forced her back to that question again:
That night, why had Marcellus pulled the trigger on Livia?
It hadn't been an accident. He had pulled the trigger. He had chosen to fire.
Could a man who could shoot his own wife really be someone worth loving? Even if he had been in agony, even if he'd lost control… that moment—that choice—had changed everything.
And what about her? She was Alia now, not Livia.
When he learned the truth—could he really accept her?
She slowly turned toward Marcellus's sleeping face. He still looked peaceful, unguarded.
And yet, at that moment, that face felt so unfamiliar.
She let out a faint sigh and lay back down.
But this time, sleep would not come.
—
The next morning.
Pale morning light filtered into the room. When Marcellus woke, he was in high spirits. He quietly scooted closer to Livia, planning to tease her a little—maybe steal a moment of tenderness.
"It's still early…" He reached for her. "We could start the day with something… a little more fun—"
Livia turned her head away, avoiding his touch, her expression serious.
"Don't fool around. We have important things to do. Get up."
Marcellus blinked, slightly disappointed, but seeing the determination in her eyes, he could only nod and agree.
"Alright, alright. You win."
He sat up and picked up the phone, dialing Edgar's number. After a few rings, the call connected. Marcellus slipped effortlessly into character, his tone weary and reluctant.
"…I still don't think this is a good idea. But Livia convinced me. She said we're family, after all. That Eryx isn't the only option, so…"
There was a brief pause on the other end. Edgar's voice came through low and guarded.
"…You agreeing to cooperate—that surprises me."
"It's not me," Marcellus sighed, exhaustion lacing his voice. "It's Livia. She said it's time to try trusting Father. I… I'm just listening to her."
Edgar let out a short, derisive scoff.
"Hmph. Trust? You should've done that a long time ago."
He paused, then asked,
"When can I get the document?"
At that moment, Livia reached over and took the receiver from Marcellus. Her voice was clear and calm.
"I'll bring it myself. Father—there are things we need to discuss. I want to do it in person."
There was a short silence. Then Edgar let out a soft, almost amused chuckle.
"Very well. I'll be waiting."
The call ended, and quiet returned to the hospital room.
Marcellus turned to Livia, a trace of concern in his eyes.
"Are you sure you want to go yourself? I just… ever since your mother died, your father's changed. There's something cold in him. I can't read him anymore."
Livia smiled faintly.
"Don't worry. I'm more careful than I used to be. After everything that happened last time… I don't want you or anyone else having to rescue me again. Makes me feel useless."
She kept her tone light, almost teasing—but her gaze held a quiet resolve.
Marcellus looked at her, then finally broke into a relaxed smile.
"Then I won't worry."
They shared a glance and a smile, and the tension between them eased slightly. He reached out and poked her forehead.
"Who said you're useless? You're the sharpest blade we've got."
"Then I'll see today whether this blade is sharp enough to cut through my father's stone-cold heart," she said with a half-joking grin.
Laughter filled the room as sunlight slowly spilled across the floor—but neither of them knew just how many unseen waves would rise before the day was over.