To make Cyrus believe I was on my last legs, I scattered strands of hair everywhere—especially in the spots around the house where I usually spent time.
I even thinned out my own hair, cutting it without hesitation.
The trap was set, and at this final stage, I couldn't afford any slip-ups.
When Cyrus came home and went into the bathroom, he found the sink area littered with loose strands of hair.
Sitting on the bed, I looked pale and frail, covering my mouth as I coughed forcefully.
Hearing me, Cyrus came out to check.
I made sure he could see the blood on my hand, my face pale and filled with helplessness and fear.
"Darling... what's happening to me? Am I... am I really dying?" I asked, tears filling my eyes as I gripped his hand in panic.
"Oh, come on, it's probably just
