Ethan Smith's fingers trembled slightly as the automated voice echoed coldly in his mind. Five years—over eighteen hundred days of torment—were finally coming to an end. Outside the window, thick snowflakes swirled in the air. He stared at the frost patterns on the glass, his vision blurring until he could almost see his late wife’s gentle smile. That car accident five years ago had taken everything from him—until this eerie "Companion Program" appeared. "Take care of Sophia Sinclair and her daughter for five years, and your family will be revived." He had signed the contract without hesitation. His phone buzzed. Sophia’s text was curt: [Imperial Club. Antacids. Now.] Ethan smiled bitterly. Over these five years, he had grown accustomed to such summons. Sophia’s heart belonged to Alexander Huxley, the reckless playboy, while Ethan was nothing more than a convenient stand-in, always at her beck and call. Outside the VIP room, just as he reached for the door, he caught the sound of laughter inside. "Sophia, now that Alexander’s back, isn’t it time to dump that loser?" "He’s useful," Sophia’s voice was lazy, laced with alcohol. "Good at taking care of things. Obedient. The perfect tool." Five-year-old Luna chimed in brightly, "Like a loyal dog! Last time, I threw my ice cream on the floor, and he got on his knees to clean it up!" The room erupted in cruel laughter. Ethan’s grip on the medicine bag tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Don’t believe me? Watch this." A woman’s voice rose sharply, followed by a loud splash—something had been thrown into the lake outside. "Ethan!" Someone shoved him from behind. "What are you standing around for? Sophia’s watch fell in the lake!" All eyes turned to him, watching like spectators at a show. Sophia swirled her wine glass, not even bothering to look up. "You really want me to go?" he asked softly. Luna clapped her hands gleefully. "Go on! Didn’t you say you’d do anything for us?" Suddenly, Ethan laughed. He walked to the window, where the biting wind and snow rushed in. "Seven days left," he murmured. Before anyone could react, he leaped into the frozen lake. The icy water swallowed him instantly. On the shore, laughter still reached his ears: "See? I told you he’d never leave Sophia!" "A simp like this comes once in a century!" Sophia took a sip of wine, but an inexplicable irritation prickled at her. That phrase Ethan had muttered before jumping—"Seven days left"—lodged in her mind like a thorn. Seven days? What did that mean? She shook her head. She must be drunk. There was no way that man, who had always obeyed her every whim, could possibly have any other thoughts.