In the blink of an eye, it was the day before the three-month deadline Vio had promised.

Qin Qinxi had never given up on finding her Uncle. She went almost every day, with Maria by her side.

She had asked countless people—hardware stores, trading companies, logistics parks—going door to door and handing out notes.

No one had ever heard of this name.

Deep down, she tried to tell herself not to be too anxious; if she kept looking slowly, she would eventually find him. But in reality, she was growing increasingly uncertain.

During this time, the man had stopped being moody and unpredictable; he no longer brandished a gun to scare her, nor did he take her to watch someone being killed.

Still, that person might be quite different from ordinary people.

He did take her out for fun, though. She didn’t dare let him take her on any thrilling rides anymore, so they just enjoyed the scenery and played in the water.

The night after the assassination attempt, the next day he said he would take her out again.

She got into his car, headed to the airport, boarded a plane, and flew for over ten hours.

Only after landing did she realize he had brought her all the way to the United States.

He took her to ride the “Death Coaster”—the very roller coaster designed for euthanasia.

She had read about it online before: the designer claimed that riders would experience intense weightlessness and centrifugal force within two minutes, leading to oxygen deprivation in the brain and cardiac arrest, resulting in a painless death.

She thought he was joking.

But when she saw the track—rising straight up, then plunging almost at a ninety-degree angle, flipping, twisting, looping round and round—she stood below and her legs went weak.

Vio bought two tickets.

She dropped to her knees, begging him, clutching his legs, tears streaming down her face: “Mr. Mansero, I was wrong! I won’t ride the roller coaster anymore—I swear, I’ll never do it again, please!”

Although sometimes his words still hurt deeply, she had grown accustomed to it.

She learned to suppress her emotions before he even opened his mouth, treating his words as mere background noise—entering one ear and exiting the other.

Except during her period, they were intimate almost every day.

It seemed he completely forgot everything he’d said. And he had set a new rule:

Every time before he came back, she had to wear those special clothes.

They hung neatly in her dressing room, row upon row—red, black, white; lace, sheer fabric, cutouts—and he had people add new ones every few days.

Whenever Maria hung the dry-cleaned clothes in there, her expression remained utterly blank.

Qin Qinxi could only grit her teeth and tell herself to endure this pervert a little longer.

Also, except during her period, Vio basically returned to this villa every night.

Occasionally he wouldn’t come back for a few days, but each time he did, the hour varied.

Sometimes he’d return very late—around one or two in the morning; other times very early.

She’d just finished showering and blow-drying her hair when he’d push open the door.

And since she didn’t want to anger him, she pinned her hopes on the fact that he would take her home—and sure enough, she waited every single day.

She used to go to bed before ten o’clock every night. Now she often stayed up until three in the morning.

The latest he ever came back was three o’clock, and she remembered that well.

If he still hadn’t returned by three, then he really wasn’t coming back.

She had never mentioned the measures again.

She had brought it up once before: that night he came back early, she had finished her shower and changed into fresh clothes, standing in the bedroom waiting for him.

He was sitting on the sofa, sipping whiskey, and after summoning all her courage, she finally spoke, her voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz: “Could you… wear that…”

He glanced at her and flatly refused.

Before she could say anything more, he tossed out a few painfully hurtful words, and she didn’t dare speak again.

Today was the last day.

From the moment she woke up in the morning, Qin Qinxi had been counting. Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she ran through each day from beginning to end.

For some reason, she couldn’t shake off a vague sense of unease.

After breakfast, Maria assumed Qin Qinxi was heading to Jebel Ali again—and she’d even gotten everything ready.

She hadn’t asked Qin Qinxi anything directly, but over these past few days, she’d somehow pieced together a few clues.

Apparently, Qin Qinxi had a friend who was in the hardware business.

End of Chapter 54: Chapter 54