Chapter 2

Ever since Martha started slipping something into my grandparents' powdered milk, their health had been in a steady decline.

What began as fatigue and drowsiness soon escalated to sudden fainting spells and coughing up blood.

Full medical checkups revealed nothing, leaving doctors to blame it on the flu or common ailments of old age.

Sophia, ever the picture of innocence, leaned close to my grandparents and said with a cold glance in my direction, "There must be something unlucky in this house affecting you. She brought death to her own parents at six. Now, after six years living in our laundry room, she's trying to do the same to you.

"Grandpa, Grandma, when it comes to certain dirty things, I really think you shouldn't be too kind."

Once Sophia learned the truth about her origins six years ago, the torment and humiliation toward me never stopped.

Now, with her poisoning my grandparents to secure the Grant family fortune, she had even less reason to tolerate my presence—the real heir.

Hearing Sophia's words, Miranda, weakened and desperate, turned to me. "Mute girl, you're eighteen now. It's time for you to leave the house."

However, Logan's eyes showed a flicker of pity. "If you truly have nowhere to go, you can stay in the garage where you used to sleep."

With Sophia having taken my place and my grandparents turned against me, I simply nodded obediently.

Gathering the few belongings that fit into a single backpack, I retreated to the garage.

The family dog had long passed, so the old doghouse was now my space—more room than the laundry room ever offered.

After my move, Martha and Sophia grew bolder with their poison.

It wasn't long before Logan and Miranda were so weak they couldn't even leave their rooms. The only time they ever saw the sun was when Martha wheeled them out herself.

During one such outing, Miranda's stiff, pale face twisted into a strange, anxious expression the moment she saw me.

A rough, guttural sound escaped her throat like a muted cry for help.

While Martha was out grocery shopping, I hurried over.

Miranda struggled to lift a frail, veiny hand toward me. Her skin was mottled with bruises and swollen patches.

Looking closer, I spotted a scattered pattern of needle marks.

No wonder her condition had worsened so drastically. Martha had grown impatient waiting for the oral poison to work and had begun injecting toxins directly.

My heart sank. Stepping quietly into the house, I found Logan, who had held up slightly better, now confined like an animal.

A thick dog chain was wrapped around his neck, tethering him to the kitchen trash bin.

The moment he saw me, tears filled his aged eyes. "That monster Martha tricked us—Sophia is really her own granddaughter! Even the cruelest person wouldn't treat their own like this. I always wondered why she kept abusing you, and now I get it—you were never her real family.

"Mute girl, you've lived with us all these years, and we've never looked down on you or treated you badly. You're a good kid—I know you'd never side with them, right?"

Before I could say a word, Martha shouted angrily from the doorway, "Where did that damn mute run off to?"

Just before Martha pushed the door open, I ducked under the dining table.

She paced through the villa, scanning every corner with sharp suspicion. Not finding me, she muttered a string of curses and returned to the kitchen.

"Lucky that mute fool didn't sneak in and see something she shouldn't. Otherwise, I'd have another mess to clean up."

Logan's eyes darted toward my hiding place beneath the table, wide with alarm. Catching Martha's inattention, he pressed a finger to his lips in warning.

He still didn't know I was his true granddaughter, the real heiress of the Grant family—only that Martha had brought me in years ago and mistreated me ever since.

Yet, instinctively, he saw me as an ally, someone to protect.

Soon, Martha started prepping dinner, timing it perfectly so everything would be ready by the time Sophia got home from school.

She chopped up the mud-caked vegetable scraps and fatty trimmings, then tossed them to Logan, who was still chained up—treating him just like a dog.

He had spent his whole life at the top, but now he gave me a conflicted look and pressed his lips together.

Maybe he was just terrified of starving, or maybe he was worried that refusing to eat would give away that I was hiding nearby. In the end, Logan hunched over, picked up the filthy scraps and raw meat from the floor, and shoved them into his mouth, chewing with tears in his eyes.

I looked away, keeping my face blank, and took the chance to quietly slip out while Martha was busy at the sink with her back turned.

Logan and Miranda kept waiting for me to call the cops, hoping I'd grow a conscience and finally save them from their hell.

But I just stayed in my doghouse, shut the door, lived my own life, and turned a blind eye to their suffering.

Then Logan's nephew came by, worried after too long without contact.

By now, Miranda was completely paralyzed, only her eyes still able to move.

Under Martha's threat, Logan pretended everything was fine, forcing a yawn to send his nephew away.

"I won't disturb you any longer," the nephew said, taking the hint.

As Martha and Sophia walked him out, Logan seized the moment. Tears welling in his old eyes, he pressed a folded note into my palm.

"Mute girl, please... get this to my nephew. If my wife and I make it out of this... we'd rather hand the entire Grant fortune to you than let those two monsters have it," he whispered urgently.

I tightened my fingers around the paper, holding his pleading stare.

Then, as hope flickered in his eyes, I turned and hurried after the three now heading outside.

Worried that Logan might try to escape, Martha and Sophia rushed back to the dining room to secure him again with the chain.

Their nephew was already in his car, engine about to start. A two-second delay, and the chance to save my grandparents would vanish forever.

The car window rolled down. The nephew held a cigarette, its glow fading and brightening with each breath. "Young lady, you've been watching me. Is there something you want to say?"

I took two steps back and shook my head firmly.

Then I turned, lifted the note in my hand, and tore it neatly into pieces.