Chapter 4

In the darkness, I was pulled back into the past.

I was 16 the first time I met Charles. I did everything I could to warm his heart, pouring all my energy into being good to him.

But as the years bled into one another, the scrawny boy grew into a man who stood a head taller than me. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I fell for him.

I was terrified of my own heart. How could I let myself feel that way about him?

While I was drowning in that internal struggle, my father suddenly had an accident. A drunk truck driver slammed into the back of my father's car. My father, sitting in the backseat, was killed instantly.

During those agonizing days, I lived in a total fog, wishing I could have just gone with him. But then, Margaret sobbed before me and begged for my forgiveness.

She confessed that the man who killed my father was Richard Rivers—Charles' biological father. She claimed that if it weren't for her and Charles, my father would still be alive.

As it turned out, Richard was a gambling addict. He didn't just use Margaret as a punching bag; he had even tried to sell Charles when he was just a newborn to cover his debts. Margaret had chased him down with a kitchen knife to get her baby back.

From that moment on, Margaret gave up on Richard completely. One night, she gathered what little money she had left, grabbed Charles from his crib, and fled as far as she could. Eventually, she crossed paths with my father.

Margaret wept as she told me the story. She never dreamed that Richard would track them down here. In her eyes, she was the one who had signed my father's death warrant.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I collapsed into Margaret's arms, crying my heart out. The only person truly to blame was that despicable man—my father and Margaret were both just victims of his malice.

Besides, my father loved Margaret so much; if he had known that his life was the price for her safety, he would have worn that sacrifice like a badge of honor.

Then, the scene shifted. After my father's death, I took the reins of the family business. To provide Margaret and Charles with the best life possible, I gave up painting—my greatest passion—and threw myself into learning the ropes of corporate management.

After countless setbacks and learning things the hard way, I finally gained full control of the company.

I gave Margaret a credit card with no limit, sent Charles to the most prestigious schools, and made sure he got into his dream university. I bent over backward to give them everything.

One day, exhausted and run-down, I was confined to bed.

Margaret hugged me, her voice full of concern. "Charles is about to graduate. Once he does, you can finally hand over all this mess to him and focus on getting better."

"Look at you," she continued. "You're nearly 30 and don't even have a partner. Charles and I have been a millstone around your neck."

I nestled into Margaret's warm embrace, closing my eyes in contentment. "Margaret, don't start. I've told you a thousand times—we're family. Looking after you and Charles is something I do out of love."

She sighed, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Emily... what if Charles marries you after he graduates? You don't say it, but I can tell. You've always had a soft spot for him."

I jolted, and suddenly, the world began to spin. In a blur, Margaret morphed into Charles.

By then, he had already graduated and made a name for himself. He had become a corporate titan, achieving a level of success that put even my accomplishments to shame. But the very first thing he did was drag me straight to Harmony Institute.

He looked at me with nothing but cold loathing. "Stay there until you've gotten rid of those filthy thoughts of yours," he said. "Then you can come out."

The scene shifted again. Henry appeared before me, clutching an array of horrific tools. Ignoring my blood-curdling screams, he tore my clothes away and ground my face into the dirt.

"Let's see if you still dare to have those filthy, disgusting thoughts," he hissed. "Let's see if you dare now. You worthless whore!"

Henry raised a scalpel and raked it viciously across my skin. The searing pain radiated through my entire body, and I couldn't hold it back anymore—I let out a bone-chilling scream.

The next second, I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air. Charles was sitting right there by my hospital bed.

Panic surged through me, and I scrambled off the bed, collapsing onto the floor. I grabbed his legs, shaking uncontrollably, and began to plead frantically. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I swear! I'm a monster; I'm pathetic—I never should have had those sick thoughts about you."

My desperate pleas echoed through the sterile room.

Charles stared at me, his face a mask of pure shock. He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me up. "Emily, what has gotten into you? Who told you to say those things?"

I was trembling so badly I couldn't even speak; I just kept shaking my head over and over. For a moment, I actually caught a flicker of worry in Charles' eyes.

He gently patted my shoulder. "Don't be afraid. Just tell me what happened—I've got your back."

I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but I was cut off. A doctor walked in, holding a medical report. "Mr. Rivers? A word in my office, please."

Charles frowned, gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and followed the doctor out with a heavy expression.

I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling anxious and unsettled, when my phone suddenly buzzed. I unlocked it and saw a message from Henry. It was a photo—a photo of me being forced to drink urine. Below it, the text read: [Is our little pet still behaving?]

I was so scared I hurled my phone onto the bed, helplessness flooding my chest. I knew Henry was threatening me, but I hadn't told anyone anything.

Thinking back to Charles' threats before I fainted, I knew I couldn't stay. I scrambled out of my hospital gown, waited for the nurses to turn their backs, and slipped through the cracks, fleeing the hospital into the night.