Chapter 2

My eyelids felt heavy as I forced them open a crack. The blinding white light instantly pierced my pupils, triggering involuntary tears.

My blurry vision hadn't yet focused when a massive, suspended screen on the opposite wall jolted into view.

The screen was covered with dense, rapidly scrolling text:

**[The witch is awake! Look at her eyes! Definitely insane!]**

**[Crazy woman, go take your meds! Don’t pollute the screen!]**

**[The murderer who killed Miss Hayes’s father still has the nerve to live? Pay with your life!]**

**[Mr. Lockwood got the absolute worst luck marrying this madwoman!]**

**[#MrsLockwoodIsInsane is trending #1! Universal celebration!]**

Every word felt like a sharp sword plunging into my brain.

My mind buzzed. Where was I? Were these vicious words directed at me?

Fragments of memory, accompanied by a surge of fury, suddenly flooded my mind:

At the auction house entrance, Scarlett Hayes’s pathetic, tear-streaked face had lunged at me, clutching my sleeve tightly:

"Avery! Please! Our spiritual advisor said only this bracelet can protect our family and bring peace to my father's soul! Will you please let me have it? I'm begging you!"

Her act was so sincere, as if my refusal would make me a cold-blooded murderer. Now, amidst the hateful comments, it seemed utterly ironic.

I pulled away from her, my voice calm and cold.

"Scarlett, your father is gravely ill. Instead of finding a doctor or staying by his bedside, you're here begging me to 'give' you a three-million-dollar antique? That logic is laughably absurd!"

Her face had instantly paled, but I caught the flash of venom in her eyes. It was so clear now.

My refusal had infuriated Damien, touching his beloved Scarlett, who apparently couldn't tolerate even the slightest discomfort.

My memories were suddenly cut short. The heavy iron door swung open with a resounding *clank*.

The pungent smell of disinfectant instantly flooded my nostrils.

A woman in a crisp, starched white lab coat, wearing rimless glasses, and with an indifferent expression, walked in.

This was Dr. Anya Petrova, Damien's personal physician.

Behind her followed two burly, expressionless orderlies.

"Mrs. Lockwood, you're awake."

Dr. Petrova’s voice was flat and emotionless, the cold needle in her hand glinting ominously.

"Your emotions seem very unstable, which is not good for your 'treatment'. Please cooperate with the sedative injection."

"Treatment?"

My voice was hoarse, laced with unbelievable anger.

"What disease do I have? Tell Damien to get out here! How dare he do this to me, all for Scarlett Hayes?!"

It was exactly as I'd suspected. Damien had sent me to this hellhole just to appease Scarlett.

Damien's favoritism wasn't new, yet he was my husband!

Scarlett had "accidentally" spilled scalding coffee on my new limited-edition handbag. Just as I was about to scold her, Damien had cut in, frowning, "It's just a bag, Scarlett didn't mean it. Don't make such a big deal out of it."

For our meticulously planned wedding anniversary candlelit dinner, he’d abruptly left because of a phone call from Scarlett claiming she was "feeling down," his excuse being, "It's not safe for a woman to be out alone at night."

At a crucial charity gala for the Lockwood family, he openly brought Scarlett, letting her stand by his side as his "assistant," soaking in everyone's attention, while I, his legitimate wife, felt like an outsider.

Not to mention the countless expensive gifts, the late-night 'heart-to-heart' calls, and the way his eyes always held a touch more warmth when he looked at Scarlett than when he looked at me…

Now, just because I refused Scarlett's illogical, almost outright robbery-like demand once, Damien could twist the narrative, slap the 'crazy' label on me, and discard me like trash on this isolated island prison in the Pacific! He even used a global live-stream to humiliate and destroy me!

"I'm not sick!"

I screamed at Dr. Petrova, but it was more like roaring at the devil manipulating all this from behind the screen.

"It's Damien! It's Scarlett! They're the crazy ones! They're insane!"

The massive screen was right in front of me, the vicious comments still scrolling frantically. Every line felt like Damien and Scarlett mocking me through the mouths of thousands.

Dr. Petrova’s eyes held only cold indifference. She gestured to the orderlies.

Hands like steel vises once again pinned my powerless body. The cold alcohol swab rubbed against my skin, sending a shiver through me.

"Mrs. Lockwood, please be quiet. Your delusions are worsening."

Dr. Petrova's voice was a flat pronouncement.

The needle pierced my skin, and the chilling liquid flowed in.

Numbness spread rapidly, and my consciousness began to sink.

Before I was completely swallowed by darkness, the huge screen and the scrolling hate comments morphed into Damien's tender profile, wiping away Scarlett's tears.

I imagined Scarlett nestled in Damien's arms, wearing my jade bracelet on her wrist.

In the end, I was left with only one thought: *Damien and Scarlett, that twisted, despicable pair, won't get away with this!*

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