“Hahaha… so once I’m squeezed dry and my use is gone, you kick me aside and still want me dead?”
“If I die, I’m dragging you all to hell with me!”
Nathan Whitfield was burning with rage, roaring into the phone like a man pushed past the edge.
From the other end came a soft, almost feminine voice, lazy and unhurried. “Nathan, it’s not that I don’t want to protect you. They traced it back to you. At this point, sacrificing the pawn to save the king is the only move left.”
The man paused, then continued coolly, “I’ll give you my word. Once you’re dead, there’ll be no evidence. I—and the people above me—will make sure your parents, your wife, and your child are taken care of.”
Nathan was shaking with anger. “Why the hell should I be the one to die? You’re the ones who did all this. I was just the poor bastard you forced to run errands for you…”
The voice on the line turned cold in an instant. “Hmph. If you don’t die, your family won’t end well either.”
A beat later, the man added lightly, as if chatting about the weather, “Your daughter, Lily Whitfield… six years old, right? Just started first grade at Jiangcheng Primary School. Cute little girl.”
Nathan’s eyes went red. He practically exploded. “You touch my daughter and see what happens!”
The other side stayed calm, terrifyingly calm. “The disciplinary inspectors are already downstairs.”
“You don’t have much time.”
“I’m sure you’re smart enough to make the most sensible choice.”
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
Click.
The line went dead.
On the rooftop, Nathan stood in the cold wind, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
A bleak, broken laugh.
He laughed until his chest hurt.
Laughed until tears started spilling down his face.
He opened his phone and sent a voice message to his parents.
“Dad, Mom… your son has failed you. I spent this whole life as nothing but a tiny official, and all I ever gave you was fear and worry. You never got to enjoy a single good day because of me. If there’s another life… I still want to be your son.”
Then he left one final message for his wife, Natalie Whitfield.
“Honey… I’m sorry. I was useless, and I dragged you down with me. The people I’ve failed most in this life are you and Lily. Tell Lily… tell her her dad loves her. I really do. I really, really do.”
His eyes blurred with tears.
He flung the phone away.
Then he lifted his head and looked at the world one last time, as if he wanted to carve this final glance into his soul.
The next second, he stepped forward and leapt from the sixty-seventh floor.
Below him was a bottomless abyss.
Later, the news spread online:
Deputy Director of the Investment Promotion Bureau of Jiangfan County, Jianghong City, Nathan Whitfield, fell from a building to his death.
Relevant authorities disclosed that Nathan Whitfield had suffered from long-term depression...
Nathan Whitfield’s eyes snapped open.
He was drenched in sweat.
It felt like he had just woken from a dream so long it had swallowed an entire lifetime.
A nightmare he had lived all the way through.
In that dream, he had jumped from a building.
He had killed himself.
The moment he saw his reflection in the mirror, he froze on the spot.
That face—
young, bright, full of confidence.
It was him, years ago.
On the table sat an old-fashioned desk calendar. The date on it was clear enough to make his heart stop.
July 2, 2001.
“This… isn’t this the year everything went to hell?”
“I’m back?”
“Back to twenty-four?”
Then his pupils tightened.
“Oh no. Today… today is that day…”
The thought had barely flashed across his mind when Nathan Whitfield’s whole body went rigid. He turned around almost mechanically, like the joints in his neck had rusted shut.
And then he saw her.
A young woman was lying quietly beside him on the bed.
She looked like a beauty straight out of an old painting, drunk and soft, like a begonia blooming in spring haze. The well-tailored office suit on her body didn’t hide her figure at all—it only made every line look even cleaner, even sharper. Her curves were graceful, balanced in a way that seemed almost unfair. The high heels she still had on made her already long legs look absurdly perfect.
Her presence was the kind that hit people first and made them think later.
Refined. Cool. Controlled.
A cold, intelligent elegance, yet with a trace of charm that just wouldn’t go away.
The kind of woman who looked like trouble the second a man laid eyes on her.
Her cheeks were flushed red from drink, delicate and soft, the kind of face that stirred pity at a glance.
Nathan’s throat tightened.
“Bertrand… Forsythe?”
The instant he recognized her, his scalp went numb.
This woman—
this stunning woman in front of him—
had been the biggest nightmare of his last life.
Two years ago, right after graduating from Jiangcheng University, he had been assigned to Section One of the General Affairs Office in the county government.
For two full years, he had worked like a machine, steady and careful, handling documents, errands, meetings—whatever was thrown at him. Bit by bit, his writing improved. His judgment improved. His ability to handle people and problems improved too.
And he had been lucky.
Douglas Caldwell, the county magistrate, appreciated him a lot. He had personally picked Nathan to be his secretary. After serving at his side for two years, and just meeting the minimum tenure requirement, Nathan had already secured deputy-section-level treatment, equivalent to a Level Four Principal Staff Member.
Young, capable, rising fast.
At that age, with that momentum, his future had looked ridiculously bright.
Enough to make plenty of people green with envy.
And today—July 2—
Douglas Caldwell had led the county leadership team, along with officials from the county government office, the finance bureau, and other departments, to attend the groundbreaking ceremony for a major investment project worth hundreds of millions.
The event had gone smoothly.
Everyone was in high spirits.
Everyone had drunk a lot.
Way too much.
At the ceremony, Douglas Caldwell—who almost never praised anyone—actually singled Nathan Whitfield out in public. That one sentence from the county magistrate instantly changed the vibe at the tables. Everyone started crowding around Nathan with their glasses raised, one toast after another, like they were afraid they’d miss their shot. Nathan got poured into the ground, totally blacked out.
Bertrand Forsythe, the acting director from the Finance Bureau, had also come to the event. She got targeted the same way at the banquet, people taking turns to toast her until she was just as gone.
She was only twenty-five.
She had been assigned to the county three months earlier, and the moment she arrived, she turned heads everywhere. A beauty like that in Jiangfan County was basically a phoenix dropped into a henhouse. People in the county government had even given her a nickname behind her back—the public crush of the whole compound.
Young, gorgeous, and already serving as acting Finance Bureau director.
Anyone with half a brain could tell her background was no joke.
Some said she came straight from the province and had absurdly deep connections.
Others said she was only here for a year, maybe half a year more, before getting promoted out.
By all logic, a woman like that—a rose with thorns—should have been the last person anyone dared lay a finger on, no matter how stunning she was.
But after drinking, Douglas Caldwell let his thoughts go crooked.
With fake concern written all over his face, he hinted to Lionel Prescott, the office director, that someone should “take care of Director Forsythe,” so no one could say the county was bullying a temporary female cadre.
Lionel Prescott got the message immediately. No extra explanation needed. He turned around and ordered Nathan Whitfield to handle it.
Nathan felt right away that this was inappropriate. The whole thing smelled off. But an order from above was still an order from above. He had no room to refuse.
So he went to the hotel, booked a room, and helped Bertrand Forsythe inside so she could rest.
In his blurred memory, Lionel Prescott had come in afterward too, said a couple of vague things, then told him there was no need to go back downstairs. He could just stay in the room and keep an eye on Director Forsythe.
But the alcohol hit hard.
Nathan’s head swam. His eyelids felt like they had sandbags tied to them. Before he knew it, he’d passed out.
When he woke up, the world collapsed in one second.
Bertrand Forsythe had been raped while drunk.
And he was lying in the same bed with her.
Her face went white, then red with rage and humiliation. She was shaking all over, eyes full of shock and fury. The next second, her hand came across his face with a crack.
“Animal!”
That slap hit like a hammer.
Nathan was stunned.
His mind buzzed. His face burned. He wanted to explain, but no words came out right. He had a hundred mouths and still couldn’t clear himself. The whole scene was wrong, insanely wrong. He knew he’d been set up. He wanted to find proof, wanted to prove he was innocent, wanted to tear the truth out of this mess with his bare hands—
But he never got the chance.
Douglas Caldwell soon barged in with people behind him, kicking the door open in a rush. They didn’t ask. They didn’t investigate. They didn’t even give him room to breathe. Right there and then, they branded the whole thing as him forcibly molesting a female cadre on temporary assignment.
Only later did he find out just how terrifying Bertrand Forsythe’s background really was.
Not just city level.
Not just provincial level.
She came from a third-generation family out of the capital.
Bertrand Forsythe rushed straight back to the capital. She did not even go home first. The moment she arrived, she went directly to the Organization Department office in charge of temporary cadre appointments and broke down in tears.
The case blew up fast. It shocked the whole country and even reached the top leadership.
A senior official from the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection personally wrote an instruction: unheard of, vile in nature, vile in impact, investigate immediately and thoroughly.
The higher-ups took it extremely seriously. A joint task force was quickly assembled, with people from the Ministry of Public Security, the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, the Organization Department, plus provincial and municipal officials. The whole team moved into Jiangfan County and launched a full investigation.
Nathan Whitfield fought back with everything he had. He argued point by point, trying to clear his name.
The problem was, although the joint inspection team did uncover some suspicious details, a lot of evidence from the hotel had somehow vanished without a trace. What remained either conveniently pointed at Nathan Whitfield or could be twisted to do so. On top of that, Bertrand Forsythe already loathed him to the core and insisted, over and over, that he was the one who did it.
Then the pressure came crashing down from every level—province, city, county. Everyone wanted a harsh sentence. No one wanted ambiguity. No one wanted the truth to be messy.
Nathan Whitfield had a hundred mouths and still could not explain himself. In the end, he could only swallow it all in silence.
He was just a minor deputy division-level official, a nobody in the system, yet he was publicly announced as expelled from both Party and public office.
Wronged? He was more wronged than snow in June.
His future was done. Completely cooked.
And that was only the beginning.
One disaster after another came at him like a collapsing wall.
His girlfriend cheated and threw herself into someone else’s arms without a second thought.
Even with no conviction attached to his name, Nathan Whitfield was locked in a detention center for a full two years. Two whole years. During that time, he suffered one inhuman torment after another, until his right thumb was left permanently crippled.
First trial. Second trial. Final review.
He came terrifyingly close to being nailed with a rape conviction.
But he refused to admit guilt. Bit down hard and never confessed. All the way through, he kept appealing, again and again, clinging to that last breath of justice.
His parents never gave up either. They ran everywhere they could, pleading with people, filing petitions, carrying their grief in silence and tears.
Luckily, Nathan Whitfield’s fate had not completely run out.
He eventually met one judge with a conscience, a truly responsible good judge. That judge withstood pressure from all sides, ruled that the evidence was insufficient, and sent the case back for repeated review more than once.
In the end, the whole matter just fizzled out.
No conviction.
No real explanation.
No proper accountability.
Back then, there was no state compensation system to rely on, so there was no way for him to claim damages either.
Nathan Whitfield was not sentenced in the end, but what did that change?
He had already been expelled from the Party. He had already lost his job. He had already been pushed out of officialdom like trash no one wanted to touch.
As for how he later clawed his way back into the system and ended up serving as deputy director of the county investment promotion bureau under the banner of a democratic party, that was another bitter story altogether.
His political career had only just begun.
And this woman ruined it, top to bottom, in one clean stroke.