---- Chapter 20 The news of Ethan Caldwell' s death flashed across news screens and social media feeds. "Tech CEO Ethan Caldwell, 42, Dies in Fiery Car Crash." "Caldwell Industries Founder' s Grandson in Suspected Suicide." The public, once fascinated by his wealth and power, now consumed the details of his tragic end with morbid curiosity. His life, once a symbol of success, had become a cautionary tale. In her squalid room, Jessica Thorne saw the news on a flickering, discarded television. A slow, chilling smile spread across her face. Then, she began to laugh. A wild, maniacal cackle that echoed in the tiny, filthy space. Ethan was dead. Dead! A twisted sense of triumph, of vindication, surged through her. She had lost everything, but so had he. She smashed the cheap television screen with a broken bottle, her laughter turning into ragged sobs. ---- He was gone. But Amelia... Amelia was still out there. The police investigation into Ethan' s death was initially routine. Accidental death by reckless driving. But something didn' t add up. The angle of the crash, the lack of skid marks. Then, an anonymous tip led them to Jessica Thorne. Forensic evidence found in her room, traces of brake fluid, specialized tools. Surveillance footage placing her near Ethan ' s car hours before the crash. The "accident" was murder. Cold, calculated, and brutal. & Jessica had finally gotten her revenge. She was apprehended in a haze of delusion, her room a shrine to her madness, filled with slashed photographs of Ethan and Amelia. She laughed when the police cuffed her, her eyes glittering with a terrifying, unholy light. "He deserved it," she hissed. "They both do. Amelia is next. You'll see." Her obsession with Amelia had consumed her, twisted her into a homicidal maniac. In court, Jessica' s performance was chilling. ---- She confessed to tampering with Ethan' s brakes, her voice calm, almost boastful. She showed no remorse, no flicker of humanity. "My only regret," she told the stunned courtroom, a grotesque smile on her lips, "is that | didn't get to see his face when he realized. That | didn't kill him with my own two hands." Her depravity was absolute. Jessica Thorne was sentenced to life in prison, without the possibility of parole. She spent her days in solitary confinement, her mind lost in a labyrinth of hatred and delusion, her nights filled with screams and threats against Amelia Hayes, the woman she blamed for her downfall. She was a forgotten monster, a testament to the destructive power of envy and obsession. Her final taunt, scrawled on her cell wall in her own blood, was a chilling testament to her madness: "Amelia, I'm coming for you. Ethan Caldwell s remains went unclaimed. His few remaining family members, distant cousins and estranged aunts, wanted nothing to do with him, with the scandal, with the ruin he had brought upon their name. ---- He was cremated, his ashes scattered unceremoniously by city service workers into an anonymous municipal plot. A forgotten man, his vast fortune meaningless, his legacy one of failure and regret. No one mourned him. No one remembered the man he could have been. Meanwhile, Amelia Hayes was preparing for her first solo show at New York Fashion Week. Her collection, "Nirvana," was a celebration of rebirth, of resilience, of finding peace after unimaginable pain. The designs were breathtaking, ethereal, filled with light and color. Butterflies, symbols of transformation, were a recurring motif. Phoenixes rising from ashes. It was her story, told in silk and thread, a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit. The fashion world was buzzing. Amelia Hayes was a star. On the eve of her show, Mark Donovan presented Amelia with a small, velvet box. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, were two delicate, intertwined rings, one of gold, one of silver, designed to complement the bracelet he had given her in Provence. ---- "To complete the set," he said softly, his eyes shining with love. "To complete our life together." He slipped one ring onto her finger, then she onto his. It was a quiet promise, a silent vow, a celebration of a love that was strong, true, and enduring. Her past was a distant echo. Her future, with Mark, was a symphony of hope.