The Vanishing Heiress

Chapter 24

Ethan Sterling's face turned deathly pale under the weight of Megan Sullivan's piercing words.

"I'm sorry, Megan..."

So this was how flimsy an apology could be.

In just one night, this was already the second time Megan had heard those words from Ethan.

But what good was an apology?

The wounds of the past could never be undone.

They had carved indelible scars into the years, screaming that forgiveness was impossible.

"Ethan, it's too late. Everything is too late. Seven years ago, I begged you—just to listen to me, even for a single sentence. Did you? And seven years later, you only hurt me worse. I told you I hoped you'd never regret it."

Megan's expression was eerily calm. "Ethan, do you regret it now?"

Did he?

In his dreams, he felt the icy weight of Megan's gaze. Awake, he endured the truth from Rachel Montgomery's own lips, over and over, like a slow execution.

Ethan had made a mistake—one that had shattered someone irreplaceable.

How could he not regret it?

"Megan, I know one wrong step led to another. Seven years ago, I was unforgivable. Seven years later, I only made it worse. I don't expect you to forgive me. But I'm begging you—give me a chance to make amends. Please."

His eyes were already red-rimmed.

"No, Ethan. Right now, all I want is for you to stay away from me. The farther, the better."

With that, Megan shut the door.

That night, sleep never came.

But the next morning, when Megan opened her front door, she froze in shock.

Ethan was kneeling rigidly on her doorstep.

From the look of him, he had been there all night.

The city had already turned on the heating, but the hallway temperature must have dropped below freezing.

Megan never expected Ethan to "atone" like this.

Thankfully, it was a private elevator unit—otherwise, what would the neighbors think?

Her brows furrowed deeply. "Ethan, when will you ever stop being so self-centered?"

At the sound of her voice, Ethan slowly lifted his head.

His face was ashen, his lips cracked from the cold.

"Megan... what did you say?"

"I said your 'atonement' is disrupting my life. And if you really want to make amends, shouldn't you start by giving me back my kidney?"

This time, it was Megan who stood above him, cold and unyielding.

"You're right."

Ethan swayed as he stood, his legs numb and unsteady.

Then, from his pocket, he drew a sharp dagger.

Right in front of Megan, without hesitation, he drove it straight toward his own heart.

In that split second, Megan recognized the blade.

It was a Tibetan dagger—one she had brought back from a sketching trip to the Potala Palace ten years ago.

For Ethan's twentieth birthday, she had gifted him that jewel-encrusted dagger, along with a painting.

"Thank you, Megan. This is my favorite birthday gift this year."

She still remembered the way he had looked at her then, his eyes warm with a quiet smile.

She thought he'd thrown it away long ago.

Thud.

The sound of steel piercing flesh.

Then, warm blood gushed out like a broken dam.

As Ethan collapsed backward, the last thing he heard was Megan's frantic cry.

"Are you insane, Ethan?!"

Before darkness swallowed him, he felt Megan's soft palm press desperately against his wound.

And he heard her voice, raw with fury.

"Ethan, listen to me—even if you die right now, I won't forgive you. Not in this lifetime, not in the next, never!"