Chapter 2

"Claire is in her third trimester. I don't feel comfortable with her living alone."

"Tomorrow I'll bring her to live here."

With the facade torn away, he became even more brazen.

The next day, he did exactly as he said and brought her over.

Claire's pregnant belly was prominently rounded, her face glowing with obvious joy.

Meeting my gaze, she flashed a provocative smile.

"Renee, which room should I sleep in?"

I stared at her, grinding my teeth.

I would never forget the day she and her mother came to our house. The sun had been shining brightly.

Shortly after, my mother became a pool of blood and flesh on the lawn below.

"Renee, remember to keep your eyes open from now on. Don't follow in Mom's footsteps."

After saying that, she jumped right in front of me.

What followed was an endless nightmare.

And now, Claire stood in my home with her arm around my husband, smiling provocatively at me.

"Renee, the guest room is a bit small. I want to sleep in the master bedroom."

I didn't get any say in the matter.

The moment she finished speaking, Dylan waved his hand and workers swarmed in, throwing all my belongings out of the master bedroom.

Things clattered across the floor.

He helped Claire to the bed, carefully settling her on the edge.

A jade bracelet on the nightstand caught Claire's attention.

Its texture was lustrous, clearly well-treasured.

She picked it up and examined it carefully. The next second, as if her hand had slipped, she let go.

I instinctively ran forward to catch it, but I was still a step too late.

The sound of the jade shattering exploded in my ears.

I lowered my head as tears dropped one by one onto the floor.

Overwhelming rage surged into my head. I swung my arms toward Claire.

"That was the only thing my mother left me!"

But before I could get close to her, Dylan stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and shoved me backward hard.

I fell onto the bracelet fragments, the impact cutting my palms until they bled profusely.

Dylan, who would normally blow gently on even a small cut on my hand for ages, now frowned harshly, his tone as casual as discussing what to eat for dinner.

"It's just a bracelet. Next time I'll buy you a better one."

"Getting worked up over this and upsetting Claire isn't worth it."

I climbed up from the floor, carefully gathering the blood-stained fragments into my clothes.

But a moving worker stumbled, his arm hitting my back, and the fragments scattered across the floor again.

I finally couldn't hold back anymore and collapsed on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

After enduring all this, I developed a high fever that night.

In my confusion, I felt a pair of hands carefully wiping away my sweat, placing a cool, damp cloth on my forehead.

When I was fourteen, I was punished for not cleaning the stairs properly, forced to kneel in the snow in the dead of winter.

My stepmother's expression was vicious.

"We've raised you all these years, and you can't even do this small task properly."

My father deliberately avoided my pleading eyes, pretending not to see.

Halfway through my punishment, a basin of foul, cold water was dumped over me, chilling me to the bone.

Claire stood on the second floor wearing a thick coat, her hands in fuzzy gloves as she held the basin.

"You looked sleepy, so I came to wake you up."

In the end, it was Dylan who brought me home, forcing several bowls of fever medicine down my throat to pull me back from death's door.

He had cradled my swollen, frost-damaged fingers, his eyes brimming with heartache.

In my daze, I opened my eyes to find that the teenage Dylan had transformed into this cold, silent stranger before me.