The prison walls were not merely gray; they pulsed with a slow rhythm of despair. For Luna Nozzawa, every minute was a splinter pressing deeper into the skin of her sanity. The woman who was once defiant was now only a trembling silhouette.

THE PHOTO CONTAINING A DEATH CURSE

But what truly broke her was the cruel and vivid memory. The photographs arrived without warning, slipped beneath her cell door. When Luna trembled and unfolded the envelope, the air left her lungs. Inside, Will and Electra were bathed in sunlight, laughing with a contentment Luna had forgotten existed. That image of love reborn from the ashes of betrayal obliterated her last hope.

Luna realized she would not survive this humiliation. If she could not hold Will through love, she would bind him through tragedy.

PLAN B: THE PRICE OF LIFE

The child growing inside her was her last tether. Luna initiated a horrifying “Plan B”: she began refusing meals, overexerting herself until the dizziness became real. Her body quickly responded to the cruelty of her will.

When the blood came, chaos erupted. Luna was carried out amidst shouting, but behind her half-closed eyes was a grim satisfaction: the plan had worked, she was out!

THE FATEFUL SIGNATURE AND WILL’S AGONY

The hospital lights were mercilessly bright. Doctors surrounded Luna, their voices urgent: the baby’s heartbeat was fading; without immediate surgery, both mother and child would die.

Will arrived. His name was on the line marked “father.” His signature would decide two lives. Will’s hands shook as he took the pen. He looked at Luna, her eyes weak but aware. The expression on her face was not gratitude, but possession.

Will signed. The ink bled slightly, just enough to blur the last letter of his name, a prophecy that his life would never be whole again.

The surgery was successful, but the baby—named Hope—was barely alive. Will felt the walls closing in: he thought of Electra, the fragile peace they built, but it all seemed distant now.

When Electra came, she saw Will clutching the infant’s blanket. She needed no explanation; his grief had already chosen its home. Without confrontation or tears, Electra silently turned and left, knowing she had lost Will, not to love, but to penance.

Will had traded love for obligation, peace for punishment. Luna had won.