Thinking back now, everything makes sense.
Years ago, when Emma's father chased me down to my apartment building with a knife, I almost made it inside.
It was Ryder who suddenly showed up at my place and insisted I go downstairs to buy him some snacks.
When I got back, he had accidentally locked the door from the inside.
My mom was frantically pacing behind the door. I stood outside, entering the password again and again, but it wouldn't budge.
In the end, I was so scared of Oliver that I ran away.
My mom watched as I bled out and died in agony, her hair turning white overnight. And Ryder, that bastard, didn't leave my house until the police arrived, sobbing his heart out.
Back then, I thought he was genuinely sad for me. Now I realize he was scared. After all, I died in his
