CHAPTER 483: WILLING TO SHOULDER THE UNKNOWN RISK

The pill rested in Aiden’s hand.

He explained that it was something his grandfather had left behind before vanishing four years ago.

But the old man had only spoken of its effects, not its side effects — and then disappeared, his whereabouts still unknown.

Selina’s eyes were resolute as she stared at the porcelain vial holding the pill.

"Give me the medicine. I’m not afraid."

Aiden’s hand froze in midair. He hesitated for a long time, then suddenly jerked back, tucking the vial behind him.

He averted his gaze.

"Selina, pretend I never mentioned this today. I’ll find another way to restore your face."

Selina’s head snapped toward him.

"Second Brother!"

"I can’t gamble with your life," Aiden said sharply. "Who knows what kind of side effects this pill has? If something happens to you, what are we supposed to do?"

A pang of regret twisted in his chest. He’d only mentioned the pill because Selina was so desperate — it was the only solution that had come to mind.

But Logan was an outsider.

Selina was his sister — the girl he’d grown up with.

In Aiden’s mind, Logan’s fate didn’t matter. But Selina? He couldn’t let Selina risk herself for him.

Selina pressed her lips together.

"Second Brother, let me try."

"...No." Aiden shut his eyes.

"This isn’t up for discussion. I’ll keep an eye on Logan. And if, by the time of the board meeting, you still haven’t regained your face, I’ll find another way to prove who you are."

Selina understood the logic — but nothing would be clearer, more undeniable, than her getting her own face back.

"And you don’t even know how long this pill would take to work," Aiden added, his voice firming as his momentary impulse faded. "What if it takes months? Half a year? You’d still miss the board meeting."

Now fully calm, he was certain — he couldn’t let her take the risk.

"There’s only the slimmest chance it’ll restore you. That’s not a bet I’m willing to take."

Selina’s breath trembled.

"Second Brother, I know you’re worried. But I’m an adult. I won’t gamble with myself."

"You’re gambling with yourself right now." Aiden’s brow furrowed sharply.

"Jacob drugged you. You should be resting, letting your body heal — not running yourself ragged for Logan. How long have you been doing this?"

"Selina, you have to understand — you are the most important one here. Think about yourself first."

Selina held his gaze quietly for a long moment. Then she spoke, her voice steady but soft.

"I know. I know my life matters most. But some things... if I don’t do them, I’ll regret it."

Her voice barely carried, but it struck Aiden harder than if she’d shouted.

He stared into her eyes as she added, "I want to do this — not just for Logan. I just... don’t want to regret it."

"And besides," she said, more firmly now, "I don’t believe Grandpa would leave a deadly poison in that vial. There might be side effects — but it won’t kill me. Otherwise, Grandpa would’ve destroyed it. Second Brother... do you trust him?"

Aiden was silent for a long time.

He didn’t know how to answer.

Somewhere along the way, the little sister he’d grown up protecting had found something of her own to protect — something she wouldn’t bend on, something he couldn’t shake.

He couldn’t stop her.

All he could do was watch as the Carter Family and Reid Family’s schemes pushed her closer and closer to a trap she might not escape.

Aiden shut his eyes.

A minute later, he handed her the porcelain vial.

Selina took it, uncorked it, and swallowed the pill — without hesitation.

The next instant, her face erupted in searing pain, as if her skin were splitting open.

The pain was joined by a scorching heat, like a brand pressed against her flesh.

Selina’s mind went blank as agony swept through her. Her body convulsed uncontrollably.

"Ugh—"

"Selina!" Aiden’s voice cracked in alarm.

She thought she heard someone calling her name — and then, everything went black.

Selina felt like she was dreaming.

It seemed like she was dreaming of her childhood.

She remembered being sent to the countryside by the Clark Family when she was just eight years old—left there without enough to eat, without warm clothes to wear.

But that life ended sooner than she’d expected.

One day, a striking, energetic man showed up at the door of her crumbling little house.

Calling him a "middle-aged man" wasn’t quite right. He was just over fifty then, but he didn’t look it—at first glance, he could’ve been barely past thirty.

He said he’d come to take Selina away.

He told her to call him Grandpa.

As a child, Selina couldn’t understand it.

This man didn’t look like her grandfather—he barely looked old enough to be her uncle.

But the man explained that his mother was technically Selina’s junior, so by family hierarchy, she could only call him "Grandpa."

He took her back to his home—a massive villa estate.

One day, little Selina got lost, wandering too far and accidentally ending up in someone else’s yard.

What happened next she couldn’t remember clearly.

But the dream brought it all back, scene for scene.

Eight-year-old Selina wandered, confused, unable to find her grandfather.

She could only walk toward the sound of voices, hoping someone might help.

She heard a woman speaking.

Her small face lit up—finally, someone!

She hurried her steps, ready to ask if the woman could call her grandfather.

But then, she froze.

Because she realized—the woman wasn’t talking.

She was yelling.

"I told you to kneel. Can’t you understand words?! No wonder you’re wild from being away—honestly, they never should’ve brought you back! Look at you! Filthy rags all over you, you look like a beggar. Fifteen years old and you’ve never even been to school. You embarrass me just standing there!"

Little Selina’s face turned pale.

She pressed herself against the doorframe, terrified, not daring to make a sound.

The woman kept yelling.

"Weren’t you adopted by the Carter Family? Why did you run away?! Do you know how humiliated that makes me?! Did the Carter Family starve you, or leave you without clothes? You ungrateful little brat!"

Then, a cool, even voice—a boy’s voice—cut through the air.

"I didn’t want to be a living blood bank."

The woman exploded.

"The Carter Family wanted your blood—that’s an honor! What’s so wrong about being a living blood bank for the Carter Family’s eldest son? But you refused, you ran away, scavenging trash in the slums. If you hadn’t run, they wouldn’t have had to drag you back!"

The insults got nastier, crueler.

Selina, in her dream, couldn’t help it anymore.

Her curiosity got the better of her—she peeked her little head around the door.

She saw a sharp-tongued, venomous society woman.

And a boy.

He was tall but painfully thin, his frame frail under his loose shirt.

He wore a short-sleeved T-shirt, and Selina saw everything—the bruises, the cuts, the whip marks on his wrists and neck.

The puncture wounds—so many she couldn’t count them—made his forearms swollen.

If the parts she could see were like this...

What about the parts hidden under his clothes?

How many scars were there on his body?

How many wounds that no one could see?

Selina stood frozen in her dream, staring.

And then, slowly, the pieces clicked into place.

The woman in the courtyard.

The boy.

It was Amelia.

And Logan.