This was the second time Claire Bennett knelt before these tombstones. She couldn’t help but find it ironic, like the universe had pulled a prank on her. Forcing a faint smile, she tried to curve her lips but quickly realized she couldn’t even manage that.

She rubbed her stiffened mouth, the weight of over a decade’s worth of struggles had erased her ability to smile naturally.

Back when she was younger, though her circumstances weren’t ideal, she was quieter than most kids. Still, she was a teenager, and laughter often lit up her face, as carefree as any other child.

But then the truth about all those tangled family affairs came crashing down on her. One day, she went from being a child with no known father to becoming the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy family. Her world flipped upside down overnight, tearing away the simplicity and peace she once knew.

It’s hard to imagine—an innocent child suddenly thrust into a den of predators. Her life after that was no less than a constant uphill battle, an endless struggle just to stay afloat.Over time, she learned how to wield different kinds of smiles—polite, flattering, self-deprecating, cruel, indifferent, refined—each one playing its part in her life, coming and going like masks in a never-ending show. These carefully curated expressions were tools, stepping stones to achieve her goals, no matter the cost.

But when had she stopped smiling altogether?

Maybe it was the day she stepped through the doors of the family’s grand estate and took charge of the powerful Bennett dynasty. Or maybe she just got sick of smiling too much before then. At her level, those smiles felt unnecessary—there was no purpose behind them anymore. So, she just let them fade away.

Day after day, she kept her face stony, immersed herself in company paperwork, and gradually, the habit became second nature. Smiling became something alien to her.

She remembered herself then, a woman barely in her early thirties yet with a hardened face marked by deep-set lines between her brows, etched there from constant frowning. People—the staff at the company, relatives in the family—would dodge her as if she were some venomous snake.

She rubbed at the corners of her mouth now, trying to tug up a semblance of a smile. It was no use. Time may have changed some things, but there were scars it couldn’t erase—like the tension locked into her face, like the rigidity left by years of denial.

“Heh…”

The soft, chilly laugh echoed in the empty graveyard, sounding almost eerie against the dying whispers of sunset. Shadows stretched long as the sun dipped lower, leaving the place caught in a dim and somber glow.Claire Bennett stared at the graves before her—three tombstones lined up neatly side by side, looking like a family from afar. And indeed, underneath lay her family.

From left to right: her mother, Colette Russo; her grandfather; and her grandmother. Three of the closest people in her life, now resting beneath the earth, leaving her to face a world that seemed colder and harsher than ever.

Her mother, Colette, had been the only child in her parents' home, raised in warmth and innocence. Her beauty was undeniable, but her naivety was a fatal flaw. In college, she fell victim to a smooth-talking liar, someone who not only convinced her to drop out but also left her returning home with a suitcase—and a child whose father remained a mystery.

The scandal had devastated her grandfather, who fell ill from anger. He tried everything to make Colette terminate the pregnancy, but her stubbornness won. Yet when she gave birth, complications took her life, leaving behind just a name: Claire Bennett.

Claire always thought her mother was foolish—ridiculously foolish. How could sweet words from a man be trusted so blindly? That foolishness not only cost her life but also burdened her child, who grew up under labels and expectations too heavy to bear.

Her grandfather never truly recovered from Colette’s death, his health deteriorating bit by bit. A few years later, he followed her, leaving the sole responsibility of raising Claire to her grandmother.

Now her grandmother, too, had become a part of the earth, leaving Claire utterly alone in the world.This was her second time kneeling before these graves. The first was in her previous life, at her grandmother’s burial, when she personally placed the urn into the tomb. After that, she never returned—not because she couldn’t at first, but later, because she didn’t want to.

The emotions tied to this place were far too messy for her to unravel. She didn’t have the energy to deal with those tangled memories; they cut into her heart just thinking about them, leaving her in pain.

She bowed deeply to the tombstone, knocking her head three times with solemn respect. Then, steadying herself, she tried to get up. But having knelt too long, dizziness hit her hard, and she stumbled as her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

She caught herself by gripping the tombstone, taking a moment to compose herself. Her face, pale from not eating for an entire day and night, was a testament to her fragility as she staggered away, each unsteady step making it clear she wasn’t at her best.

She slowly descended the stone steps, one at a time. The graves of the three sat quietly halfway up the mountain, shadowed by the dim light. When she reached the foot of the hill, she turned back to glance at the tombs standing silently side by side. In the fading light, they looked solemn and still.

Pressing her hand hard against her chest, she murmured under her breath, “Please… just stop hurting.”

Taking one last look, she fell into silence before turning around and walking away. She didn’t know when she’d be able to come back again to visit her loved ones now resting below. Those who had passed—she thought—should no longer be a part of the struggles of the living.The regrets from her past life—this time, she'd make it right. As for all that wealthy family drama, she genuinely wanted no part of it anymore.

Her steps down the mountain grew more resolute, but in that dim light, her thin figure carried a faint sense of loneliness.

Claire Bennett's mind wandered back to that heavy snowfall many years ago. By then, she'd already moved into the Bennett family. Quietly, she built a snowman and stared at it for the longest time. Finally, she'd reached out to draw a big smile on its face with her finger, standing beside it with her lips pressed together in an expression of innocence only a twenty-year-old could have.

Lost in her memories, she walked on without realizing it. Her brows suddenly furrowed, and when she snapped back to the present, she realized she'd wandered off her original path. She stopped in her tracks, preparing to turn back the way she'd come.

But she paused, her steps hesitating as she took in her surroundings. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving everything around her in a deep gloom. She now noticed she’d somehow ended up at the foot of the mountain, near a garbage dump. The streetlights here were old and worn, with barely one or two sputtering out dim, flickering light. A nauseating stench hung in the air, the overwhelming mix of rotting trash piled around making her stomach churn. It was clear no one had cleaned this place in ages.

Yet, even those rancid smells couldn’t fully conceal the pungent, metallic tang of blood in the air.

She wasn’t sure why, but her senses now seemed sharper than they had been before her rebirth. Especially when it came to the scent of blood—a faint sniff was enough for her to catch the unmistakable trace lingering in the wind.She stood there silently for a few seconds, before finally following the faint scent in the air to its source.

It was tucked away in a secluded corner, hidden behind layers of cardboard and wooden planks. It was the kind of spot you wouldn’t notice unless you were deliberately searching for it.

Just as she reached out to move the cardboard, she felt a cold, metal object press against the small of her back.

“Don’t move.”

A low, icy voice came from behind.

Claire Bennett pressed her lips together and slowly raised her hands.

“Turn around, no tricks! This gun’s loaded, and I wouldn’t want it to accidentally go off,” the voice continued, calm but threatening.

Claire turned around to face him, and at last, she saw the man holding her at gunpoint.

Under the dim, yellowish light, the guy was tall—probably close to six foot three—with a lean, muscular build. He wore a dark tank top, black pants, and heavy military boots. His expression was blank, but there was nothing casual about the way he held the black handgun in his hand.

The sheer presence he exuded was suffocating, every bit as intense as the precise movements of his arm.

Claire kept her hands raised above her head, her calm gaze locked onto the man’s face. She broke the silence, her voice steady and composed: “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I wandered here by accident, I’m not looking for trouble. If you want, I’ll leave right now.”Claude Maxwell felt a fleeting sense of surprise. This young, unfamiliar woman was nothing like what he’d expected.

She was stunning, no doubt about it—tall, roughly five-foot-seven, with striking features. But it was her eyes that really stood out. Those fox-like eyes glanced upward at him briefly, her lashes curling delicately at the corners, carrying a subtle allure. Normally, girls her age couldn’t pull off such a look. Her face was youthful, that much was clear; anyone could tell she was still a sheltered, school-aged girl. Yet her eyes—deep and quiet, like a still well—held a kind of aged wisdom that seemed to stretch far beyond her years.

Then she spoke, her voice calm and cool, like a stream running over smooth stones. There was no panic in her tone, no trace of disarray in her expression. She was collected, remarkably so for someone of her age.

Claude’s brows tightened slightly as he questioned her, “Just walked into the wrong place, huh? Then why did you head straight for my hiding spot?”

She answered matter-of-factly, “My sense of smell is sharp. I caught the scent of blood.”

As she said it, her eyes narrowed slightly, honing in on him. Only now did she notice the strong metallic odor clinging to him. Focusing under the dim light, her gaze shifted to his dark tank top, noticing the faint stain near the front. A deep red blotch smudged against the fabric.

Seeing that Claude’s face didn’t change, she calmly went on, “Search me if you think I’m lying. There’s nothing on me worth raising suspicion.”Claude Maxwell stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking, "Sorry, but your calm reaction is way too unusual for your age when someone's holding you at gunpoint. I can't help but question your identity."

Claire Bennett's lips curved slightly, showing a hint of helplessness. Back in her days as the Bennett family head, she'd been trained to stay composed in all situations, using reason to maximize gains. Yet now, she'd forgotten she was supposed to act like the young girl she was.

While they were facing off, Claire's ear twitched, and her eyes narrowed. She spoke evenly, "Two hundred meters northeast. Someone's moving in this direction. Can't tell how many."

A flash of surprise crossed Claude's eyes, but he didn't say anything. After half a minute, his ear moved slightly too, picking up faint friction sounds. Realizing her words weren't unfounded, he lowered his voice, "Let's move. Head west!"