The Golden Canary in the Underworld"

All of Saint Christopher knew about Damien Shepherd, the ruthless enforcer of the Shepherd crime family, and the untouchable golden canary he kept. She was a blind social worker, living in the squalor of the city's poorest district, yet as pure as a white magnolia blooming in hell. This purity made Damien, who had risen from the brutal streets of the city's underworld, dote on her like a precious gem.

And I, his lawful wife, was nothing but a detested ornament.

"Anastasia Vance, sign this. Those two mansions in the Highlands and the casinos in Port Royal are yours."

I refused to divorce him, so he resorted to his most vicious tactics. He threw me off the Port Royal docks, and one after another, my family's cargo ships mysteriously sank. Finally, he kidnapped my parents, cementing them into pilings at the bottom of the Port Royal Bay.

"Sign the papers, or watch them be cast alive into the foundations. Your choice."

I knelt, begging him, my forehead bleeding from hitting the ground, but the roar of the cement mixer swallowed my parents' desperate faces. "No!"

Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the very day I first learned of Penelopes existence. This time, I would grant his wish and leave for good. But when I truly died before him, Damien Shepherd lost his mind.

In my past life, Id only ever heard a single voice message on Damiens encrypted phone. It was a soft, timid female voice calling him "Damien, darling."

Reborn, I wanted to see for myself. What kind of woman could make a cold-blooded monster, forged in the depths of Saint Christopher's crime underworld, learn tenderness?

"Uncle Fitz, arrange for my parents to leave for England via a secret route within three days. Ill join them as soon as I can."

After instructing my trusted old family retainer, I contacted Saint Christophers top lawyers to draft divorce papers. I needed to sever all ties with Damien and reclaim my offshore assets. I had less than a month.

Then, I went to the Lower Quarter. This was the poorest, most chaotic part of Saint Christopher, rife with gambling dens, street gangs, and sex workers. At the end of a narrow, sewage-strewn alley, Penelope stood before a cramped, dilapidated community welfare center. Holding a white cane, she smiled, handing out free boxed meals to several homeless people. She wore a faded white dress, her eyes unfocused but clear and bright.

"Slowly now, there's enough for everyone. Today, we even have extra pulled pork." Her voice was soft, starkly out of place in the murky, squalid district. No wonder Damien cherished her.

"Blind hag! Watch where you're going! You're in my way!"

Suddenly, a deranged thug overturned a table. The broken neck of a beer bottle lunged directly at her. I stood nearby, instinctively wanting to step aside. But Penelope, acting on pure instinct, shielded the children who were grabbing for food.

Chink!

The shattered glass deeply pierced her shoulder, crimson blossoming rapidly on her white dress. But she didn't cry. Instead, she fumbled to reassure the terrified children clinging to her. "Don't be scared, Penelope isn't hurt. Someone will protect us."

I froze. That blinding red brought back memories of my parents, ground into the cement mixer in my past life. Back then, I cried until my eyes were nearly blind, and Damien only offered me a cruel, retreating back.

In the welfare centers makeshift first-aid room, I watched her pale, serene face, and finally, I couldn't stop myself from stepping forward. "You're a social worker? This place isn't for you. These people don't deserve your help." I spoke coldly.

She recognized that my voice wasn't from the neighborhood and smiled, shaking her head. "Madam, Mr. Shepherd says that as long as I have a kind heart, the heavens will watch over me. These people are just sick, not bad."

Mr. Shepherd. Damien Shepherd. The man who, in the Port Royal Bay area, had carved up dozens without a flicker of emotion, was teaching someone about benevolence?

Beep, beep

Her custom wristwatch chimed. Id commissioned that watch from a Swiss master years ago for Damien; it had the most advanced real-time vital sign monitoring. Hed found it too bothersome and thrown it into the trash without even opening the box. Now, it graced her slender wrist.

She pressed to answer, and Damien's voice, usually cold enough to make one shiver, now held an undeniable tension. "Your location shows an abnormal heart rate and dropping blood pressure. What happened?"

Penelope's face flushed, her tone flustered. "Damien, I'm fine. Just a little scratch. Everyone at the welfare center is very kind. It was just my own clumsiness"

"Wait for me."

The call ended. A mere five minutes later, the roar of an engine echoed from the street. Damien's Rolls-Royce had traveled from Midtown to the Lower Quarter in just five minutes. He was always resourceful, and his radar seemed to pinpoint only her.

And me, his lawfully wedded wife of five years? Last month, I was kidnapped by his rivals, nearly assaulted in an abandoned warehouse. I hid in a water tank, calling him for help, but he only sent a subordinate with a message: "A Shepherd wife who can't even protect herself deserves to die. Damien Shepherd has no use for weaklings."

That was the difference.

"I have something else to attend to. Im leaving." I tossed a wad of cash onto the table, considering it payment for the meal, and turned to go. One month. If I could just make it through this month, I could completely disappear from this world.

Some time later, I went to the top floor of Shepherd Group with the divorce papers. I needed to get his signature while his attention was entirely on Penelope. This way, I could smoothly disentangle my assets and prepare for what was next.

"Mrs. Shepherd, Mr. Shepherd is in an important meeting and isn't seeing anyone." The bodyguard, a formidable presence, blocked my path like an iron tower.

A meeting? I peered through the half-closed blinds, past the bulletproof glass door. I clearly saw the man who never took painkillers even for bullet removal, kneeling beside Penelope. With the finest tweezers, he was meticulously picking tiny shards of glass from her wound. Penelope flinched in pain. He immediately stopped, his breathing even softening. He pressed his forehead against hers, soothing her with a tenderness I had never heard.

"Penelope, darling, it'll be over soon. From now on, I'll assign ten men to follow you. If anyone ever makes you bleed again, I'll wipe out their entire family."

Was that Damien Shepherd? The uncrowned king of Saint Christopher? I once took a rivals blade for him, earning thirty-nine stitches on my back. His only response then was a cold glance: "If it hurts, endure it. Don't play pitiful in front of me." After that, I never dared to cry out in pain.

"Madam." The bodyguard looked uneasy.

Maintaining a blank expression, I handed the documents to him. "When he has a moment, tell him to sign these."

I expected him to send his legal team to fight over the assets, given the intricate intertwining of Shepherd and Thorne interests. I had even prepared to give up seventy percent of my fortune. But five minutes later, the bodyguard returned with the signed papers. He hadnt even bothered to look at the specific terms, simply scrawling his signature, bold and unhesitating, on the last page. His signature cut through the paper, devoid of any lingering sentiment.

Holding the thin document, I felt an incredible lightness. At eighteen, my father had offered me as a sacrifice to this emotionless madman, a pawn to ensure our family's survival in the business wars. He had no sense of pain, no bottom line, no understanding of love. I had tried to prepare his meals daily, to tend to him when he returned late at night, smelling of blood. I had even unhesitatingly stood by him during the internal power struggles of the Shepherd family, only to be kidnapped and nearly drowned by his political enemies. I thought my five years of devotion would melt the iceberg.

It turned out, icebergs do melt. Just not for me.

The divorce cooling-off period still had half a month left, and Damien hadn't returned to our estate in the Palisades once. This conveniently allowed me to transfer my remaining assets. To avoid arousing his suspicion, I continued my routine of shopping and afternoon teas, contacting my people in London only in secret.

One day, passing an old-fashioned tea room in Port Royal, I unexpectedly saw Penelope. She was in a corner with a sharply dressed man, who seemed to be pulling at her.

"Sister!"

Though blind, Penelope's hearing was exceptionally acute; she recognized the click of my heels. She pulled her hand free from the man and fumbled her way towards me, clutching my sleeve tightly. Seeing the bodyguards trailing me, the man cursed under his breath and walked away.

"Who was that?" I coldly shook her hand off, not wanting any contact.

Her eyes reddened, her voice trembling. "He's an old acquaintance I once helped. He developed a gambling addiction and keeps asking me for money. Today, he even tried to lay hands on me Sister, could you just have a cup of tea with me? I'm a little scared."

In my past life, Damien had called her a lotus blooming in the mud, the purest light in Saint Christopher. I hadn't believed it then. But seeing her now, looking so frightened, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of certainty.

I initially wanted to refuse. But glancing at my watch, I had an hour until I was due to pick up a fake passport from a contact in the black market. So, I took her to a nearby private dining restaurant. I just wanted her to stay safe and out of trouble, so it wouldn't eventually fall back on me.

We had just settled into the private room, and the food hadn't even arrived, when she suddenly clutched her stomach, her forehead covered in cold sweat.

"What's wrong?" I stood up.

"Sister, Im so sorry." She clutched the tablecloth, gasping for breath. "Im pregnant. Its Damiens."

Pregnant. My heart lurched, a sharp blade twisting inside me.

"He's been pushing himself so hard lately, trying to quell the opposition from a few of the Shepherd family's elders. I didn't want him to be distracted because of me, so I never told him." Penelope's lips were bitten raw from pain.

Damien Shepherd had never touched me in our five years of marriage. He said he found women's touch disgusting and deemed procreation a tedious charade. Turns out, he just found me disgusting.

If I didn't leave immediately, and Damien discovered her pregnancy, and then realized I was still in Saint Christopher and knew everything. Given his suspicion and ruthlessness, he would undoubtedly repeat the tactics of my past life, striking first by targeting my parents!

I immediately excused myself to the restroom and called Uncle Fitz. "Uncle Fitz! Rebook our flight for tonight! Forget the luggage; we're taking a boat to international waters to switch ships immediately!"

But just as I hung up, a sharp scream suddenly pierced the air outside the private room. This was followed by a Bang! a gunshot!

A dozen thugs, armed with machetes and iron bars, kicked open the restaurant door. "Kill the blind girl! Damien Shepherd took down our boss's stronghold; today we'll take his woman's life in return!"

The scar-faced leader immediately zeroed in on Penelope in the private room. Clearly, they were well-prepared and had already tracked her movements.

Penelope shrieked in terror, stumbling blindly, knocking over a chair. I could have escaped through the back door, but the horrifying image of my parents being buried alive in my past life flashed through my mind. I knew Damien too well. If anything happened to Penelope in front of me today, whether I was involved or not, Damien would pin the blame on me. He would assume I, out of jealousy and hatred, had hired these thugs.

To ensure my parents' safe departure, I gritted my teeth. I grabbed a red wine bottle from the table and, with a Crash!, shattered it against the corner of the table. "Run!" I pulled Penelope, desperately fleeing towards the kitchen's emergency exit.

But I'd forgotten she was blind, and now, pregnant and utterly terrified. Just as we were about to reach the door, she tripped hard, dragging me down with her.

"Run? Well, Mrs. Shepherd is here too. Perfect, a two-for-one deal! Let's take care of both of them!" The scar-faced thug grinned menacingly as he caught up, kicking me hard in the back. I felt as if my spine was about to snap, a mouthful of blood rushing to my throat. Several heavy steel pipes swung down.

"The blind girl is pregnant! Boss, why don't we cut her belly open and send Damien Shepherd a grand gift?!" A junior thug suggested venomously.

Penelope cowered in the corner, letting out a desperate plea. "Don't touch my baby, please!"

The scar-faced leader grabbed my hair, dragging me. "Let's deal with the lawful wife first! The high-and-mighty Mrs. Shepherd of the Shepherd family, let's see what she's really made of!"

Several dirty hands tore at my clothes. I tried to fight back, but after the heavy blow, I was utterly defenseless. Just as my coat was completely ripped open, and despair threatened to engulf me, a deafening barrage of heavy gunfire erupted from the doorway!

Boom! Boom! Boom!