They Sold Me to Hell and Called It Love Chapter 08

They Sold Me to Hell and Called It Love Chapter 08

Kael held my already stiff and cold body, tears streaming down his face. He was laughing and crying at the same time, like a man who had completely lost his mind.

“Phina… I was wrong. Please… come back…”

Darius looked at my face—eyes that would never open again—and his voice cracked with remorse. “From the day Lila Hart appeared, she was lying. But we were too stupid to see it. Not once.”

“If we had seen her true face sooner… Phina would still be alive.”

My uncle knelt before my body, his gaze vacant. He couldn’t speak. He could only let the tears fall.

They held a grand funeral for me.

The day I was buried, a soft rain fell over Ironvale. The entire underworld showed up, but no one dared to breathe too loudly.

My uncle stood before my grave, his eyes swollen, barely able to stay on his feet.

“Phina… your uncle promised to protect you forever. But I lost you instead.”

“You were such a good child. How did I get so twisted? How did I fall for Lila Hart’s lies?”

Darius knelt at my grave and pressed his forehead to the ground three times, each bow so hard it split the skin.

“Phina, you saved my life. And I became one of the people who killed you.”

“If there’s a next life, I’ll spend it repaying you. I’ll be your servant, your dog—anything.”

Kael knelt there brokenly, muttering to himself without end. “I destroyed my own home. I killed my own wife. I killed my own unborn child.”

Watching the three of them weep and repent, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

So they remembered after all. They remembered how good I had been to them.

At the very beginning, I didn’t have my memories from my past life.

It wasn’t until the system found me and told me my mission—to redeem these three antagonists, to stop them from descending into darkness and destroying everything—that my memories returned.

In my original world, I was a lonely orphan who had never known what it felt like to have a home.

So the moment my memories awakened, I accepted the mission without hesitation.

Because my uncle had been so good to me. He was the first person who ever made me feel like family. I didn’t want him to fall into darkness, to be hunted down by his enemies and die with no one to bury him.

He worked tirelessly, drowning in mafia affairs, drinking late into the night at endless meetings.

I would make him a Bloody Mary to settle his stomach and keep it warm on the stove for when he came home.

His stomach was weak because years of chronic gastritis had worn him down. So I studied old medical texts and learned to make bone broth elixirs, slowly nursing him back to health.

He was good to me, so I gave him back ten times the love. I wanted him to know that we would always be each other’s only family.

Kael Rourke was the boy I grew up with.

The system told me that beneath his polished, gentlemanly exterior lay a merciless killer. He never left his enemies a way out. In the end, after being cornered during an arms deal, he would detonate an entire arsenal and take hundreds of police officers with him.

To stop that tragedy, I followed the system’s guidance. Slowly, patiently, I thawed his frozen heart.

It worked. Kael began to let go of his cruelty. He stopped wiping out every enemy he made. He showed more patience with his men.

And most importantly—he was good to me. Whenever I cried, whenever I was hurt, he was always the first one by my side, his voice soft as he comforted me.

“Phina, don’t cry. I’m here. No one can hurt you.”

I was young and naive. I believed him. But in the end, he was the one who hurt me the most.

As for Darius Voss—he was the hardest of the three to reach.

His parents had been murdered by their enemies. His own family wanted him dead. He survived on the streets, scavenging for scraps from garbage piles.

His past had taught him not to trust anyone’s kindness.

In the fate the system had shown me, he would become the most ruthless mafia boss in history—his hands soaked in blood, his crimes beyond counting. In the end, Interpol would corner him and gun him down in the streets.

When I first appeared, he thought I had an agenda.

He would rather sleep under a bridge than accept the food and clothes I brought him.

I hid it from my uncle—and spent three days and three nights with him under that bridge. I gave him my jacket. I shared my food. And finally, I earned his trust. I brought him home to the Cross estate.

After that, I never stopped being good to him. I helped him build his power. I helped him avenge his parents.

Finally, he let down every wall he had. He made me a promise, solemn and absolute.

“Phina, I came into your life too late. I can’t be the one who loves you—but I will be your most loyal knight. I will protect you all my life. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

How ironic. These three men who swore to protect me—they all turned against me the moment Lila Hart appeared.

The words they said to me most often became: “Seraphina, why are you so cruel?”