The scene fell into complete silence. A few people thought about stepping forward to help, but their families grabbed their arms and pulled them back. After a long standoff, the cries from under the rubble finally faded away. Whitney let her hands fall to her sides and gave up. "Bruno, my heart hurts. There were kids in there." Bruno rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her. "Don't think like that. It wasn't your fault." Whitney lowered her eyes and bit her lip. What had this world become? People used to stand up for others and risk themselves for the sake of what was right. Now there was only coldness. Not far away, Wilona stood with her face streaked with ash, clinging to Frederick's arm as she cried. "Please, honey, we can't just stand here doing nothing. Think of something! I'm starving!" Frederick wiped the sweat rolling down his face. "You think I like standing here? If you're hungry, go back inside and grab some food. Why are you yelling at me?" Wilona glared at the half-collapsed house. She stomped her foot in frustration. That place looked ready to crumble any second. How could she step inside? But standing out here for so long had left her weak with hunger and thirst. After hesitating, she licked her dry lips and asked softly, "Honey, if I go in and the house falls ... you won't just leave me, right?" Frederick lifted his head just enough to look at her. "You're asking if I'd come running in to save you?" Her eyes filled with hope. "Yes."If he promised to back her up, she might gather the courage to risk it. She couldn't just stand here forever. If she kept waiting, she'd lose the strength to go inside at all. But Frederick's face twisted with irritation. "What are you thinking? I'm a jerk who cheated on my wife. You really think I'd throw myself into danger to rescue my side chick?" Wilona's mouth fell open. Her expression betrayed her grievances. Why did every word out of this man's mouth have to cut like a knife? Couldn't he say one kind thing? Every time he spoke, he drove her crazy with anger. She shut her mouth and stopped talking about food. If she was hungry, so was everyone else. She doubted Frederick could stand here starving forever. Her eyes darted as she suddenly remembered the fake cops. When she'd fled the villa in a panic earlier, she caught sight of the man in glasses and that bald woman dressed like an officer. They were running deeper into the villa district with chickens and rabbits clutched in their arms. So, those two lived a good life. They had all that livestock? Did that mean that they ate meat every day? What were those two, anyway—lovers or husband and wife? Frederick saw her go quiet and stand there with her arms folded. He teased, folding his own arms tighter. "You've darted your eyes again. What trouble are you cooking up now?" Wilona jumped. "What trouble? Stop spewing nonsense." Frederick snorted coldly and shrugged like it was nothing. "If you've set your sights on another rich man, remember—when you get lucky, don't forget me. I've fed you plenty, haven't I?"Wilona stamped her foot. "Cut the crap! I'm getting mad!" Frederick turned away; he pursed his lips and fell silent. In the corner, the Mallins' old house still stood stubborn and grim. Rosalie and her family lay huddled in their room, faces streaked with dust and fear. Jacob's limp body clung to Lillian's leg, holding her down so she couldn't move. Rosalie knelt beside her, trying with all her strength to pry his hands away. When the earthquake struck, Lillian's first thought had been to grab her daughter and run. But Jacob—weak, broken, and barely clinging to life—wrapped himself around her leg with a desperate grip. He wanted to escape with them. Because of him, none of them made it out. Furious, Lillian pounded his arm. Jacob, badly injured and burning with fever, had already passed into unconsciousness. Still, he held on tight and mumbled with his eyes shut. "Scarlett! Don't come near me. Please, let me go. "It was Lillian who hurt you. I was only an accomplice." Rosalie panicked when she heard her father's words. Even knowing no one else was in the house, she couldn't help but glance nervously around the room. "Mom," she whispered, "why would Dad suddenly say something like that?" Lillian's face hardened, her jaw tight. "He's delirious from the fever," she said. Then, through clenched teeth, she spat, "Maybe his time's up. Maybe that witch has come to drag him straight to hell." Rosalie hunched her shoulders, eyes darting. "Mom, don't scare me like that."They kept tugging at Jacob's hands, but he wouldn't let go. At last, Lillian sighed in defeat. "Rosalie, you go outside. Don't waste your strength here." Rosalie's eyes filled with tears. "No! I can't. I'm scared. You have to come with me." Her whole life, she had leaned on her mother. With her father never around and only strict discipline from her mother, Rosalie had grown used to Lillian handling everything. Without her mother, Rosalie knew she wouldn't survive a single day in this ruined world. "Mom, maybe we should try dragging Dad out with us," Rosalie begged. Lillian shook her head. "It won't work."