Chapter 14

At the last moment, my father was struck on the head by a lamp I grabbed, which barely brought him back to his senses.

By the time my mom arrived, I was desperately wrapped in a blanket, almost naked.

Chloe and her mother stood in the bedroom, their faces etched with guilt and panic.

I never knew such disgusting things could exist in this world.

Chloe’s mother, who had been the mistress years ago, slowly grew older. Seeing my father with a new lover, she feared being cast out.

She had actually convinced her own daughter to throw herself at him.

I sat on the bed for a very long time, violently gagging.

My mom smashed everything in the bedroom, cursing Chloe and her mother with the most vicious words.

Yet not a single word was directed at my father.

Not a single word was in my defense.

The room was a disaster zone, a wreck that felt apocalyptic.

But in the end, everyone tried to persuade me to make peace and let it go.

But I refused.

I had a camera in my bedroom, originally intended to record myself practicing violin to send to my teacher.

By a twisted stroke of fate, it had captured something vile.

I took the video to the police station.

But the officer who watched it had a very strange expression.

He advised me, "After all, it didn't go all the way.

"A young lady has her reputation to think of. Maybe it’s best to just… let this go."

I didn’t understand.

I wasn’t the one who did something wrong, so why should *I* be afraid of losing my reputation?

When the police wouldn't help me, I uploaded the video online and contacted media reporters.

The internet exploded.

Countless people remembered my nineteen-year-old face.

Many sympathized with me, but more, far more, watched as if it were a sick joke.

Online public opinion was relentless.

My father lost his job and was detained for three months.

My mom went mad, her face distorted as she yanked at my hair.

She cried and screamed at me: "Aren’t you ashamed?!

"Do you even know what shame is, what dignity is?!"

I let her scream and hit me, feeling only a profound confusion.

It seemed I had not only lost the ability to love, but also began to lose my sense of dignity and shame.

All that remained was a chillingly detached logic, guiding me on how to simply *function*.

My mom shrieked at me, "Do you have any heart at all?"

Just as years later, on the day Adrian and I broke up.

He, utterly disappointed, had demanded of me, "Iris Clarke, do you have any heart at all?"