Emily gave a sad smile. "I can’t sleep." Satan sighed. "... Neither can I." In the quiet of the night, two sleepless people found a perfect moment to talk. Satan casually asked, "Emily, can you tell me what your three years in the UK were like?" Emily licked her lips and spoke simply, "There’s not much to tell. I studied and worked. My life was pretty dull. It wasn’t much different from how it was before, so I got used to it quickly. It didn’t even feel difficult—if anything, I found it fulfilling. Every moment of my day was packed, and that made me feel like life had purpose." Satan nodded thoughtfully. "You’ve always been a hardworking person." "It’s not that I’m particularly hardworking," she corrected. "I think I’m just used to being busy. Before, I worked hard for Sophia’s tuition, but now I’m working for myself, and that makes me feel happy. I felt lucky to be able to work for my own future." "Were you studying at Oxford?" "Cambridge," Emily replied. "I thought about going to Oxford, but Cambridge has a better architecture program. Even though the tuition was more expensive, I decided to go for it." Satan nodded in agreement. "You made the right choice." Emily chuckled bitterly. "It didn’t always feel like the right choice. The tuition at Cambridge was crazy expensive. I had to work every single day to make ends meet. And you know how architecture is—it's an expensive field. I had to buy drawing boards, paints, and all sorts of supplies. The extra expenses were overwhelming at times." "Didn’t Jackson help you?" Emily laughed softly, almost amused. "He tried to, but we were just friends. I couldn’t take his money. Jackson got so mad at me for being stubborn, but I’ve always had my principles. If I can solve something myself, I won’t take help from others." Satan smiled faintly. "Then I must’ve been lucky. Three years ago, when we met at the Hilton, you accepted my help." "Well, back then, I had no choice," Emily said, her voice more serious. "My adoptive father needed surgery, and the hospital bill was tens of thousands. There was no way I could afford that. I’ve thought about it a lot since then—maybe if I hadn’t accepted your help, if I hadn’t saved my father, he wouldn’t have found out what Sophia did to try and kill him. Maybe it would’ve been better for him to leave this world with a peaceful memory, rather than facing that betrayal and suffering."Satan’s expression softened. "He didn’t suffer. He passed away without pain." Emily looked up at him, surprised. She hadn’t been able to return home before her father passed away. She had assumed Bert had taken care of the funeral arrangements. "You were there?" she asked, her voice shaky. "I saw your father one last time," Satan confirmed. "But I had already undergone my surgery. He didn’t recognize me." Emily sat up straight, her breath quickening. "Did he... did he say anything before he passed?" Satan shook his head. "No. He was very peaceful." Emily bit her lip, her heart tightening painfully. "Emily, he was very ill. His passing was a release." "It’s my fault..." Emily whispered. "No," Satan said firmly. "This wasn’t your fault. Grace and Sophia caused this. It has nothing to do with you." Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes and spilled over as she tried to speak. "But he raised me... and I wasn’t even there when he passed..." Satan reached out, holding her hand in his, offering her warmth and comfort. "He wouldn’t blame you. Maybe... maybe he thought you had gone to heaven. He missed you so much that he wanted to go see how you were doing up there." His words struck deep, like a dagger to her heart. Tears fell freely from Emily’s eyes, landing on their clasped hands. "Emily..." Satan whispered. "I’m okay," she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand, her palm now wet with tears. "Tomorrow, let Dylan stay with you. I want to visit my father." Satan shook his head. "I’ll go with you." "You don’t need to. You need to rest." "It’s just my throat that needs rest," Satan replied. "I’m still Emily Carter’s husband. I should visit her father."He emphasized "Emily Carter," not "Miranda," as if he were reminding himself of something—or perhaps making a point. Emily Carter no longer existed, and with her, their past relationship had been erased. Now, he was offering her space to choose her own path. That was who he was. He always gently laid out the options for her, allowing her to walk whichever road she chose, knowing that, no matter what, he would always be there behind her. In her nearly thirty years of life, Satan was the only one who had ever made her feel this secure, this free. "Tomorrow..." Emily began, "don’t you have to go to the office?" "Daniel, Ken, and Dylan can handle things. I don’t need to oversee every detail." Emily said nothing. Satan was always so thorough; she didn’t need to worry about anything when he was around. "Emily, don’t be sad," Satan said softly. "The people who love you wouldn’t want you to be sad." "I’m not sad," she sniffed, wiping her nose. "I just want to know where Grace and Sophia are. Three years ago, I left too quickly to get justice. Now that I’m back, I won’t leave until they’ve paid for what they did." Satan nodded. "There’s no rush. Whatever you want, I’ll take care of it for you. You don’t have to lift a finger." The next morning, Satan drove her to the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. William was buried in a peaceful, serene place, with an evergreen tree standing beside his grave, still vibrant even in the winter. On the gravestone was a photo of William as a young man, looking no older than twenty. "Bert said this was the only photo he could find." Emily gently traced the photo with her fingers, brushing off the dust. "This photo is perfect. William was really handsome when he was young. Even more so than a lot of movie stars today." She placed a bouquet of flowers on the grave and whispered, "Dad, it’s me, Emily. I’ve come to visit you."