Chapter 2

My father turned to Steven, his face twisted in pain.

His face trembling, my father stammered, "B-But Susanna... Susie is already—"

Halfway through, tears welled up in my father's eyes, and he was choking his words.

Steven gave a knowing, almost mocking look. "Of course she won't."

He then let out a scoff. "Oh, right. Her knees are far too precious for just anyone. She'd only ever kneel for someone like Charlie, wouldn't she?"

Charlie Gibson was the man I married seven years ago.

In Steven's eyes, Charlie was the reason I had abandoned him.

I first met Steven that winter, when I was twelve.

As the first snow fell, my childhood friend, Charlie, took me under a bridge, where I saw Steven and his mother, dirty and shivering.

Before Steven's father could be arrested for his illegal business dealings, he jumped to his death.

Destitute and adrift, Steven and his mother ended up there.

A crowd of kids had gathered, treating it like a show, and Charlie, bubbling with excitement, pulled me into the throng.

Charlie pointed at Steven, who was trembling all over and glaring fiercely.

"Look! He's even whimpering in his throat. Doesn't he sound exactly like a stray dog?" Charlie sneered.

Furious, I kicked him hard and retorted, "You're the one sounding like a dog!"

I shooed away the gawking kids, then handed the breakfast I'd bought for Charlie to Steven and his mother.

That was when my bond with Steven truly began.

That was also when the bad blood between Charlie and Steven first started.

I would often bring some supplies for Steven and his mother, and I would also stay to chat with them.

Since his family fell from grace, Steven had been completely friendless.

I was the only one he would talk to. Most of the time, though, it was just me talking while he listened.

He would always say one thing and mean another.

He would always complain about how noisy and annoying I was.

However, the moment anyone bullied me, Steven would beat them so badly they'd end up in the hospital with multiple fractures.

Later, the school made him write a letter of apology and read it aloud in front of the entire school.

He refused to write it out of defiance. Worried that he'd get expelled, I ended up writing a thousand-word apology letter on his behalf.

On Monday, Steven stood before the entire school assembly. After finishing his reading with a deadpan expression, he added, "There's one last thing from me. If anyone lays a finger on Susanna again, I'll beat them just the same."

The principal's relieved smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure fury. His approving expression instantly collapsed in outrage.

Steven was a man of his word.

After the Taylor family fell from grace, I had to find work, and that was when my boss took liberties with me.

Just then, he called. The moment I burst into tears on the phone, he immediately stormed into the private room.

He grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it over my boss' head. The glass shattered, blood splattering everywhere.

My boss was rushed to the hospital with life-threatening head trauma and remained comatose for two long months.

Back then, Steven and I were utterly powerless. My boss' family kept suing us.

Because of that incident, Steven ended up spending more than half a year behind bars.

Before the police took him away, he stayed up all night packing my clothes and daily necessities, terrified I wouldn't be able to take care of myself without him.

Hence, everyone in our circle knew that I, Susanna Taylor, had a guard dog.

Lay a finger on me, and he'd bite.

With Steven around, I was untouchable.

Those days seemed like a lifetime ago.

My thoughts snapped back to reality as I stared at Steven's face. At that moment, it was a mask of icy indifference.

My father stood before Steven, so frail and unsteady that it looked as if a single gust of wind could knock him down.

He muttered in a daze, "No... That's not true. Susie would never be like that."

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to utter the truth about the fact that I had already passed away.

Maybe he just couldn't bring himself to utter it. Or maybe, after all those years, he still stubbornly refused to accept and acknowledge the truth.

In the dead of night, he'd cradle my photo and whisper to himself.

"My dear Susie, when will you come home?"

Seeing my father fall silent again, Steven finally lost all patience. Without another word, he got into his car and drove off.

My father was about to head back to the hospital when his phone rang.

The hospital called and said they were running out of beds.

If my father couldn't pay the hospital bill that night, they would have to stop my sister's treatment and move her to a bed in the hallway.

My father clutched his phone, listening to the cold ultimatum from the other end.

The chilly autumn wind tousled his hair, revealing streaks of gray.

Flustered and uncertain, he stammered a reply. Afterward, with grim determination, he hailed a cab to follow Steven's car.

Seven years ago, when Steven and I broke up, my father was still serving his prison sentence.

He had no idea how messy and painful our breakup got or how utterly devastated Steven was back then.

All he knew was how inseparable Steven and I had once been and how fiercely we'd loved each other.

Hence, he foolishly believed Steven, for old times' sake, might show mercy.

When the car finally stopped at the destination, Steven took his girlfriend's hand and strode straight into the front yard.

He didn't spare my father so much as a glance, simply instructing the housekeeper to lock the wrought iron gate.

My father stood frozen outside the gate, his face ashen and utterly defeated.

He waited until nightfall, only to receive the same message relayed by the housekeeper from Steven.

"If you want to borrow money, have Susanna get on her knees," the housekeeper said.