Jackson opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. "Yes, I admit it," he finally said. "Three years ago, I deliberately told her that Vincent had given up on treatment, given up on their child. But I wasn’t lying about Vincent pulling another woman around in a hotel lobby while Emily was pregnant with his kid! He was unfaithful to her first!" Allen sighed and sat down in the chair beside the hospital bed, his voice calm but cold. "Sometimes what we see isn’t always the whole truth." "I don’t care what the truth is," Jackson shot back. "Vincent was messing around with a woman who looked just like Emily. You can’t tell me he was innocent!" "But he was innocent," Allen said, his tone steady. "Do you even know who that woman was?" Jackson rolled his eyes. "I don’t want to know, and it doesn’t matter." "You saw it for yourself—the woman looked like Emily. Years ago, Vincent saved her, helped her pay off her debts, and gave her a second chance at life. But that woman, Penelope, was greedy. She assumed Vincent had feelings for her because he helped her, so she kept coming back, asking for money." Jackson remained silent, listening but not speaking. When Allen finished, Jackson muttered, "Well, Vincent got what he deserved. He brought that trouble on himself." "But do you know why he saved Penelope?" "Because she looked like Emily?" "That’s part of it. But the main reason is that her story reminded Vincent of Emily’s. Though their circumstances were different, both went through similar struggles for over a decade. Penelope had a gambling-addicted father and a brother who was always borrowing money. Her family was drowning in debt, and it was all on her shoulders." Jackson scoffed, still unconvinced. "So what? Vincent’s just a bleeding heart then? There are a million sob stories out there. Every day I see beggars on the streets. Should he be helping all of them too? Let’s be honest—it’s because Penelope looks like Emily." "That’s right," Allen nodded. "Because Vincent had loved Emily for a long time. A long time before you ever came into the picture." Jackson turned sharply to face him. Allen continued, "I don’t know everything about them, but I do know this—Vincent isn’t the kind of person who talks about his feelings. He keeps everything bottled up. When I found out about Penelope, I was shocked too, but eventually, Vincent opened up to me. Jackson, I know you care about Emily, but before you even entered her life, Vincent had been in love with her for years." Jackson shook his head in defiance. "Love doesn’t follow any rules, Allen. It’s not about who loved her first. If we’re playing that game, Emily married Nathan first. But does that mean I should give up? You know me—I won’t change my mind." "What if the whole family asks you to give up on her?" "Then I’ll cut ties with the family. Mom and Dad will only have you as a son. The Parker family can act like I never existed." Allen’s expression darkened. "Is it worth it?" "It’s worth it if I think it is." "You’re willing to give up your entire family, the people who have supported you for thirty years, for a woman who doesn’t even love you?" Jackson hesitated, a flash of doubt crossing his face. Allen sighed deeply. "I need you to understand that love isn’t about being the first one to confess, but it’s not about forcing things either. Emily still has Vincent in her heart. No matter how hard you try, her heart is already full, and no one else can get in." Jackson stubbornly retorted, "Who says she still loves Vincent? In the three years we were in the UK, she never mentioned his name once." "But what about in her heart?" … A sharp cry pierced the stillness of the night. Emily jolted awake, finding the room shrouded in darkness. She grabbed her phone to check the time—2:00 AM. Lately, she had been waking up suddenly in the middle of the night, haunted by her own screams and the frantic sounds of doctors and machines beeping in a distant memory. Three years ago, in the delivery room, she had almost died. For the past three years, she had almost never dreamt of that heart-wrenching night. It was as if her body had a defense mechanism, blocking out the painful memories. But in this third year, her dreams had changed, showing her only happiness and warmth. In those dreams, she would see herself and Satan living together in Hilton Hotel room 2307, eating meals, working, and facing life’s challenges together. Even though he wore a mask, everything felt so familiar in the dream.Why? Sometimes she wondered why she kept dreaming of him this way. Whenever he appeared in her dreams, he was always the same as when they first met—strong and gentle. His warm hands always gave her strength. Taking a deep breath, Emily grounded herself in reality. It wasn’t like that anymore. Those memories had faded away. Now, he was weak, lying in a hospital bed, his brow furrowed even in sleep, clearly uncomfortable. Emily gently tucked the blanket around him, preparing to step over to the window for some fresh air. "Emily..." Satan mumbled in his sleep. She froze mid-step. "Emily... where are you... Can you hear me, Emily..." Emily couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or awake. In the dark, he suddenly opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds before frantically searching the room for her. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far. She stood only a meter away from the bed. "Emily..." He wiped his face, trying to calm himself. "Where were you going?" She pointed to the window. "I was just going to get some air." Satan exhaled deeply, as if finally releasing a weight from his chest, before softly reminding her, "Don’t stay by the window too long. It’s cold at night." Emily hesitated for a moment, then walked back and sat down in the chair next to his bed. "What’s wrong?" he asked. "I’m not going to the window," Emily said. "The nurse warned that you can’t afford to catch a cold right now." Satan reached out to hold her hand."Do you want some water?" she offered. He shook his head. "Then try to sleep some more. It’s only two in the morning. There’s still time before dawn." "And you?" "I..." Emily said softly, "I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave. You go ahead and sleep." Satan shook his head. "You sleep. I’ll stay up and watch over you, okay?"