The Savior He Never Saw

I?traded three years of my youth for a love that was nothing but a complete mistake.

I was the one who saved Lucas from that kidnapping chamber. I was the one whose wrist bears the scar from protecting him.

But he kept my words close and worshipped my sister as the light in his darkness.

My father forced me to marry into a wealthy family, to a useless man in a vegetative state, to plug the holes in our family business.

I thought Lucas would refuse on my behalf. Instead, he said.

"Hurry up and marry him. Don't hold up my wedding to Vivian."

When I turned around and married into the Quinn family, becoming Mrs. Quinn, only then did he frantically search the world for me.

But he'll never know that I never bowed to fate. I came to collect every blood debt he owes me, with my own hands.

Jade's POV

"The vegetable from the Quinn family. I'll marry him."

Vincent froze for a moment, then a delighted smile spread across his face. "Jade, you've come around? The Quinn family may have a comatose heir right now, but they're true old money. Once you marry in for this business alliance, the capital injection..."

"I have conditions."

"Name them." Vincent's mood lifted as he settled back into his leather ergonomic chair.

"Mother's shares-I want them liquidated." I held up one finger. "Ten billion dollars."

"Ten billion? That's all of the Reynolds family's liquid assets! Right now Vivian's venture has some losses..."

"Those are her losses." I looked at him coldly. "Pay me what I'm owed, and I'll marry him. If not, let Vivian marry him herself."

Vincent slammed his hand on the desk, about to lose his temper, then held back.

He needed the Quinn family's money.

"Fine." He gritted his teeth. "What else?"

"Transfer Lucas's employment contract to Vivian."

This time Vincent was genuinely stunned.

The whole city knew I protected my bodyguard Lucas above all else.

Three years ago when he was kidnapped, I went crazy trying to find a way to rescue him.

"Can you really bear to?" Vincent narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you saying you'd marry no one but him?"

The scar on my left wrist throbbed with phantom pain.

"As long as you pay what I'm owed, you can take him." I sneered. "Reassign him as Vivian's bodyguard, or whatever else she wants-she's been eyeing him anyway."

Vincent stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether I meant it.

In the end, he compromised in the face of such massive capital and the temptation of currying favor with the Quinns.

"Fine. Once the Quinn family's betrothal gift arrives, I'll transfer the money."

I turned to leave.

My hand had just touched the doorknob when Vincent's voice came from behind me. "Jade, can you really bear it? That's Lucas we're talking about."

My right hand on the doorknob trembled slightly as I remembered the devout look in Lucas's eyes when he gazed at Vivian. I only felt it was ridiculous.

I didn't answer. I slammed the study door with force.

Downstairs, the living room was brightly lit.

The floor was covered with pink balloons and various luxury gift boxes.

This was the warm-up for Vivian's celebration party.

My marriage was a bargaining chip in a ten-billion-dollar transaction-no one cared.

The illegitimate daughter's fake nomination was worth the whole family decorating with lights and colors.

A pink balloon drifted to my feet.

I lifted my heel expressionlessly and crushed it down hard.

Pop.

The sound of the balloon bursting echoed through the empty living room.

I walked through the corridor to Lucas's quarters.

Because of his severe photophobia, all the lawn lights in this area had been specially dimmed.

The door to his meditation room was ajar, with no lights on inside, only a faint red glow seeping through.

I didn't go in. I just stood quietly at the door.

Heavy breathing came from inside, carrying a sickly oppression.

Through the gap in the door, I saw Lucas sitting on the carpet, holding an exquisitely mounted manuscript in his hands.

He buried his face in that calligraphy, breathing deeply, like a dying person inhaling oxygen.

His fingers traced over the ink marks on the paper bit by bit.

"Vivian..."

"Only your writing can save me."

That piece of calligraphy was signed "Vivian Reynolds," but the handwriting was actually my unique script.

Three years ago, he and I were locked in adjacent cells.

I slipped notes to him through cracks in the wall, using this handwriting style to write encouraging words to keep him alive.

The day we were rescued, I was carried away in a high fever and delirium. Vivian stood before him holding a stack of my manuscripts.

So he decided that the person who gave him light in the darkness was Vivian.

Jade's POV

In this family, Vivian was the treasured jewel. I was the tool used to fill holes.

After Mother died, Vincent cultivated a philanthropic wealthy persona for himself to seem refined.

He didn't understand architecture, but he knew Vivian needed a talented woman's reputation to marry into even higher society.

And I was that shadow.

Since childhood, whenever there was a design competition, I was locked in the attic to draw.

The winner's list always bore Vivian's name, and those trophies would be displayed in the most prominent spot in the living room for Vincent to brag about how outstanding his younger daughter was.

If I didn't draw, Mother's belongings left to me would mysteriously disappear or get damaged.

For the sake of those mementos, I lived my life as Vivian's shadow.

The private phone on the desk vibrated, breaking the suffocating silence.

It was Lucas's private number. Only a handful of people had it.

He reluctantly set down the calligraphy he'd been holding, his brow furrowing slightly.

When he answered, his voice instantly returned to its usual cold nobility.

"Hey."

I stood in the shadows by the door, in no hurry to enter.

The voice on the other end was probably his psychologist Dr. Xu, faintly audible through the receiver, asking about his recent condition and why he still endured my bad temper.

Lucas's fingers unconsciously tapped the table-his tell for irritation.

"She's just someone who knows how to draw blueprints."

His voice was cold, as if evaluating a defective product.

"She's a gold digger. Apart from money and scheming, what does she know about design?"

I stood outside the door, my nails digging into my palms.

So this was his assessment of my countless all-nighters and endless discarded drafts.

Then his tone changed, becoming extremely tender.

"Only Vivian's calligraphy has spirit. Doctor, you don't understand-what I saw in the darkness was exactly that kind of light. To protect Vivian's purity, enduring that woman is worth it."

In that instant, I felt something shatter inside me.

Since you're so noble, don't blame me for showing you what real gold-digging looks like.

I pushed the door open.

The loud sound of the door opening shattered the meditation room's silence.

Lucas reacted quickly, immediately turning to block the safe behind him, his brow furrowed, his eyes full of disgust at my intrusion. "Who gave you permission to come in?" he demanded coldly.

I leaned against the doorframe, my gaze falling on the corner of the safe visible behind him, and let out a cold laugh.

"Obsessing over a piece of paper-Mr. Hayes, what refined taste. Since you like it so much, why not go find the real person with all that 'spirit'?"

Lucas's expression darkened, and he barked sharply, "Shut up! You don't understand art, and you're not worthy to speak Vivian's name. Her calligraphy is priceless, unlike you-all you think about is business."

I ignored his rebuke and casually pulled a gold-embossed invitation from my bag, tossing it onto the table.

"Tomorrow night, you're coming to the gala with me."

The invitation slid across the table and stopped beside that piece of calligraphy.

Lucas didn't even glance at it, refusing without hesitation. "I'm busy. I have no interest in that kind of social climbing. Go by yourself."

"Is that so?"

I adjusted my cuffs, my tone flat.

"I heard Vivian will be there too. As the lead designer of the Holy Infant Cathedral, she's going to accept an award."

The air froze for a second.

Lucas's previously cold expression instantly softened, his eyes relaxing, even taking on a hint of pride.

"Holy Infant Cathedral... That's Vivian's life's work."

He picked up the invitation, his slender fingers caressing the gold lettering.

"What time do we leave?"

Watching him like this, I only felt it was ridiculous.

"Seven tomorrow evening."

With that, I turned and left the meditation room.

Back in the attic, my room had no lights on.

By the moonlight from the window, I could see a sketch still clipped to the easel.

It was a discarded draft I'd drawn in a burst of inspiration late one night two years ago.

I walked over and tore the sketch down.

The sound of ripping paper was especially harsh in the quiet attic.

I crumpled it into a ball and casually tossed it into the trash can by my feet.

Since I was selling out, I might as well sell out completely.

The next morning, servants delivered two evening gowns.

One was the latest season's white haute couture, with layers upon layers of skirt, studded with tiny crystals-ethereal and clearly prepared for Vivian.

The other was black, an outdated style, not even the right size.

The servant set down the clothes, her eyes evasive. "Mr. Reynolds said Miss Vivian is accepting an award and needs to look presentable. This black one is suitable for you to sit in the audience."

I said nothing and waved her out.

That evening, Lucas was already waiting by the car.

Because of his photophobia, he wore sunglasses and a haute couture suit, his posture straight and commanding.

Such a man who could make waves in the city was now willing to act as my driver for Vivian's sake.

I walked over in my heels and pulled open the door to sit in the passenger seat.

We didn't exchange a single word the entire ride.

The air pressure in the car was frighteningly low. Only when Lucas occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror would the corners of his mouth unconsciously lift slightly.

I knew he was anticipating that "spirited" Vivian.

Jade's POV

I watched Lucas through the rearview mirror.

His fingers rested on the steering wheel, long and defined.

I looked down at my own hands.

These hands had once held his in that sunless chamber, leading him out of despair.

Now, those hands eagerly turned the steering wheel, rushing toward another woman.

This was the last time I'd ride in his car.

Once I got the Quinn family's money, he would belong entirely to Vivian.

Whether the man himself or that lie about salvation-I'd package it all up and send it to her.

The car stopped at the gala hotel entrance.

Media crowded both sides of the red carpet, flashbulbs creating a continuous white daylight. Lucas quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.

He didn't come around to open my door. Instead, he stood by the car, his gaze urgently searching behind us.

That car held Vivian.

I pushed open the car door myself. The altered black gown wrapped around my body, my heels clicking on the ground.

Vivian arrived.

She wore that white haute couture gown, linking her arm through mine, smiling sweetly, posing for the cameras in a display of sisterly affection.

I pulled my hand back in disgust, avoiding her touch. "Don't dirty my clothes."

Vivian's movements stiffened. She immediately turned to Lucas, her eyes reddening. "Lucas, is Jade still blaming me for borrowing her inspiration? I just thought that style was beautiful..."

Lucas stepped forward in one stride, shielding her behind him, removing his sunglasses to look at me coldly.

"Inspiration is just inspiration. Someone has to realize it to give it value." He spoke matter-of-factly. "Vivian gave it soul. You should feel honored."

Vivian broke into a smile, pulling a miniature model of the Holy Infant Cathedral from her clutch.

She held it up to Lucas like a treasure. "Look, the light and shadow design here-this is the divine light I imagined."

Lucas looked down at the model, his eyes instantly softening with a trace of devotion. "This is the world I saw in the darkness. Vivian, only you understand."

I laughed inwardly.

Who was it that described that scene to him bit by bit through the wall in the detention cell?

Vivian seemed to remember something and turned to look at me with concern. "Jade, are you still having trouble with your designs lately? You should rest more."

I looked at the design in her hands that belonged to me and said flatly, "My discarded drafts can win you major awards. What troubles could I possibly have?"

A giant in the architecture world happened to walk by. He stopped, pointed at a support structure on the model, and asked Vivian curiously, "That load-bearing point is quite bold. How did you calculate it?"

Vivian froze, unable to answer for a long time.

Her eyes darted around evasively. "Well... by feel. For aesthetics, I thought this looked good."

The old professor frowned. "Architecture is rigorous science. Going by feel alone will make buildings collapse."

The atmosphere grew awkward. Just as Lucas was about to intervene, I spoke first.

"It uses a hyperbolic tension structure." I looked at the model. "It disperses thirty percent of the vertical load, which is why it appears lightweight."

The professor looked at me in surprise, nodded approvingly, and walked away.

Vivian bit her lip, looking at Lucas with grievance.

Lucas glanced at me with displeasure. "What good is memorizing textbooks? Vivian has an artist's intuition."

The curator walked over, holding the final confirmation list. "Excuse me, we need to confirm the design attribution. Currently it's registered under Reynolds Design Department."

I spoke up firmly. "Change it to Jade Reynolds."

Vivian panicked. "Jade, Dad and the sponsors' intention is to promote new talent..."

"New talent?" I sneered. "Show me your draft sketches! What are the core parameters? What are the light angles? Can you even answer?"

Vivian opened her mouth, looking to Lucas for help.

Lucas pulled a black card from his suit pocket and handed it to the curator.

"I'm adding a hundred million in sponsorship for the Holy Infant Cathedral project's startup fund." Lucas's voice wasn't loud, but loud enough for those nearby to hear clearly. "The condition is that the lead designer's name must be-Vivian Reynolds."

Vivian covered her mouth in excitement, looking at him with deep affection.

I looked at Lucas in disbelief. "That's my heart and soul!"

He looked down at me from his height, his eyes cold as ice. "Jade, only Vivian deserves it. This hundred million is to buy your silence."

The big screen flickered.

The host's voice rang out loudly. "Now announcing this year's Gold Award winner-Vivian Reynolds!"

That name appeared huge and blood-red.

I stood in the shadows, clutching the useless draft in my hand, crumpling it into a ball of garbage.

That black card was a symbol of power, and the final straw that crushed me.

In the face of capital, talent was so fragile.

Three years of my work couldn't match his one card.

Jade's POV

Thunderous applause hurt my eardrums.

On the big screen, the three bright red characters of Vivian Reynolds seemed to flow down like blood, stinging my eyes.

I turned and pushed through the crowd, fleeing.

Leaving the hotel, I drove to a suspended Reynolds family construction project.

I carried a bottle of dark liquor I'd bought at a roadside convenience store and sat on the high-level steel beams without any safety protection, letting the wind blow.

The city lights spread out below my feet like a giant net.

I looked at my calloused hands, wondering how much longer these hands could draw, how much longer I could struggle in this cesspool reeking of money.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine came from below.

A car door opened. Vivian pulled Lucas out.

She walked across the uneven ground in her heels, stumbling with each step. Lucas patiently supported her waist, as if caring for a fragile piece of porcelain.

What timing.

Vivian insisted on visiting the site of her award-winning work in person.

Ridiculously, she didn't even know where the construction elevator was and had to rely on Lucas for directions.

We ran into each other at the construction elevator.

The elevator door closed. Three people crammed into the narrow iron cage.

The air instantly thinned, mixed with Vivian's sickeningly sweet perfume and the dust from the construction site.

Vivian didn't seem to mind my presence. She excitedly pointed at the night sky, beginning to envision the future.

"Lucas, I want to build the tallest building here. I've even thought of the name-I'll name it after you. Do you like it?"

Lucas looked at her, his eyes so tender they could drown someone. "As long as you designed it, I like it."

Vivian turned to look at me provocatively, then asked Lucas, "What if Jade designed it?"

Lucas didn't even spare me a peripheral glance, coldly spitting out a sentence. "A building without soul is just a pile of garbage."

A pile of garbage.

So that was his definition of the blueprints I'd drawn around the clock for three years.

My sleepless revisions were worthless in his eyes.

I gripped the liquor bottle in my hand tighter, my knuckles white.

Since it's garbage, let's burn it.

Burn it completely clean. Then none of us can have it.

"You're standing in a garbage heap right now." I said coldly.

Vivian shrank into Lucas's arms pitifully. Lucas frowned, about to scold me, when the elevator stopped.

As soon as we exited, several dusty workers surrounded us.

They were subcontractor workers who'd been owed wages for half a year.

Seeing people come up, their emotions instantly flared.

"Pay us! Nobody leaves until we get paid today!"

The lead foreman recognized me at a glance. After all, I was usually the one running around sites solving problems. That so-called genius designer Vivian couldn't even read blueprints, let alone come to such dirty places.

"She's in charge! Get the money from her!"

I was shoved, lost my footing, and fell hard onto a pile of rebar nearby. The sharp threaded steel cut through my arm, burning with pain.

Instinctively, I looked toward Lucas.

In the first second of the chaos, Lucas had pulled Vivian behind him, protecting her seamlessly within his safety circle. He watched coldly as I was surrounded by a group of angry men, as if this were just a farce unrelated to him.

"You're the Reynolds heiress. You should handle this."

His voice cut through the noisy crowd, reaching my ears clearly.

I climbed up from the ground and didn't look at him again.

Grabbing a rusty iron rod from the ground, I stared viciously at the approaching workers.

In the chaos, no one noticed the change in the corner.

A worker's cigarette butt fell onto a mountain of foam insulation boards.

Flames instantly shot up, igniting the polystyrene boards. Black smoke silently snaked out from the corner.

A pungent smell drilled into my nostrils.

It was the characteristic toxic smell of burning polystyrene-suffocating.

I whipped around to find the only escape route completely sealed by a wall of fire.

Jade's POV

The fire spread incredibly fast. Black smoke poured in through the ventilation ducts. The alarm shrieked piercingly, as if trying to puncture eardrums.

Vivian covered her mouth, half her body draped over Lucas, tears streaming from the smoke. "Lucas, I'm scared..."

Lucas said nothing, just held her tightly, his brow furrowed deeply.

He searched for an exit in the chaos. So did I.

But we quickly discovered the only escape route was half-blocked by collapsed debris, with the remaining gap filled with fire.

The emergency box on the wall was red, especially conspicuous against the gray and black.

Lucas was faster than me.

He yanked open the glass door of the emergency box. Inside lay a single smoke mask.

Only one.

In that instant, time seemed to freeze.

Around us were the crackling sounds of burning and workers' shouts, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat.

Lucas grabbed the mask. Without any hesitation, he fastened it over Vivian's face.

"Cover your mouth and nose. Don't move."

The smoke seemed to come alive, rushing into my throat.

I coughed violently. My throat felt like I'd swallowed a handful of red-hot coals, the burning sensation instantly spreading to my lungs.

"Lucas..." I tried to call him, but my voice came out only as broken gasps.

Lucas picked up Vivian, who wore the mask and was quietly sobbing.

He turned his head and glanced at me through the swirling black smoke.

"Cover your mouth and nose and keep up!"

Keep up? In this smoke density, without protection, every step was stealing time from death.

I clutched my collar, trying to filter out some of the poison, but that suffocating smell was still pervasive.

My head began to spin. My vision gradually blurred.

I watched Lucas's retreating figure. He walked so quickly, so steadily, Vivian in his arms protected impenetrably.

I tried to catch up, but tripped on something and fell heavily onto the scalding concrete floor.

The figure ahead didn't pause, didn't even look back.

The footsteps grew more and more distant.

I lay on the ground, gripping tightly the iron rod I'd used for self-defense earlier.

Heat from the floor seeped through the fabric. My consciousness began to fade.

In his heart, my life wasn't even worth a single hair on Vivian's head.

When the firefighters rushed in, I'd already lost consciousness.

...

When I woke again, I was in the hospital's nebulizer room.

My throat felt like it was stuck with countless knife blades. Each breath came with tearing pain.

I wore an oxygen mask, trying to speak, but could only make a hoarse, ugly "heh-heh" sound.

In the next bed, Vivian sat in a wheelchair.

She was actually completely unharmed, not even a scratch, but that didn't stop her from putting on a weak, post-trauma appearance.

Lucas sat by her bed, holding a bowl of warm pear soup, scooping a spoonful, blowing on it to cool it, then bringing it to her lips.

"Jade inhaled so much smoke trying to save me..." Vivian's eyes reddened, her voice soft, "Lucas, am I a burden?"

Lucas's expression was indifferent. He used a tissue to wipe the soup from the corner of her mouth.

"It's not your fault." He said. "She was just too slow."

I stared at them, my fingers gripping the bedsheet tightly.

Seeming to sense my gaze, Lucas turned around.

He looked at me, his eyes completely devoid of warmth.

"In that situation, there was only one mask." He explained coldly. "Vivian's hands are for writing and drawing-they're works of art. They couldn't risk any fire damage. But you..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over my bandaged neck.

"What's wrong with Jade?" Vivian asked on cue.

Lucas withdrew his gaze, placing the spoon back in the bowl with a crisp sound.

"Your voice being hoarse doesn't matter. You don't say anything good normally anyway."

I didn't speak. Couldn't speak.

To protect that impostor's hands, he destroyed the real creator's voice.

The burning in my throat was nothing compared to the chill in my heart.

"Don't say anything good normally"? So these past years, all my reminders and care sounded like noise to him.

I yanked out the IV, grabbed a glass medicine bottle from the table beside me, and hurled it at the floor with all my strength.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass was especially jarring in the quiet hospital room.

"Ah!" Vivian dramatically shrank into Lucas's arms like a startled little rabbit. "Jade, don't be angry, it's all my fault..."

I pointed at the door, forcing out a single hoarse word from my throat.

"Get... out..."

The sound was so ugly even I found it foreign.

Vivian covered her face, crying, pulling at Lucas's sleeve.

Lucas stood up, his brow furrowed, clearly having lost patience with my unreasonable tantrum.

He put his arm around Vivian and walked out. At the doorway, he stopped and looked back at me coldly.

"Your voice is ruined, but your temper's gotten worse." He warned. "Reflect on yourself."

Not long after, a nurse came in to change the dressing.

Seeing the glass shards all over the floor and medicine dripping from the IV tube, she frowned and complained. "So difficult to deal with."

I closed my eyes. Two tears slid from the corners down into my temples.

Lucas, you win.

Jade's POV

The day I was discharged, no car from the Reynolds family came to pick me up.

I took a taxi back to the hillside villa myself.

My throat was wrapped in thick bandages. My left hand carried a large bag of anti-inflammatory medication from the hospital. My right hand still ached faintly.

The villa was silent.

A few maids polishing vases saw me, their eyes evasive, quickly lowering their heads as if seeing something unlucky.

I ignored them and went straight upstairs.

The moment I pushed open the study door, I froze.

This was my private domain, originally filled with my architectural models, blueprints, and that drafting table I'd used for five years.

Now the room was empty.

Everything was gone, replaced by several huge packing boxes labeled "To Be Cleared."

I rushed over and tore open a box. Inside, my life's work was stuffed haphazardly. Only the vintage crystal inkwell was missing.

I frantically tore open the tape with my fingernails.

The boxes were a mess of my heart and soul.

Broken models, crumpled design drawings, and carelessly discarded professional books.

I searched through every box.

The inkwell was gone.

That was the bottle I'd used to dip ink and write letters in the dark chamber. Beneath the heavy crystal base, my initials were engraved.

It was the only physical evidence that could prove my identity.

I grabbed a passing maid, pointing at the empty room, making urgent sounds from my throat.

The maid was startled by me and shrank back timidly.

"Mr. Hayes ordered the clearing."

"Mr. Hayes said Vivian needed a south-facing studio. This room has the best light, so it was cleared for Miss Vivian."

I stared at her, my hands tracing a square in the air.

The maid understood.

"You're looking for that old inkwell?" Her eyes wandered. "Mr. Hayes said even though it's old, it's still an antique, so he gave it to Miss Vivian for calligraphy practice."

Gave it to her for practice?

My name was engraved on the bottom of that inkwell.

If Vivian used it, if she cleaned it, that engraving would be exposed.

Then all her lies would collapse.

But if she discovered that engraving...

She would destroy the evidence.

This was my last chance.

I pushed past the maid and ran toward the studio at the end of the hallway.

Even if I had to fight for it, I had to get that evidence back.