Chapter 3

I looked haggard under his torment.

He was like an overgrown baby who lost his arms and legs. I had to feed him, dress him, bathe him, and handle every detail of his daily life.

Whenever I didn't do things the way he wanted, he'd pull out his gun and shoot at the ground by my feet.

The terrifying stench of gunpowder made me tremble with fear, and I couldn't help but burst into tears.

Only then would he let me off with a loud laugh.

He'd pinch my chin, look at my tear-stained face, and call me an idiot, a good-for-nothing, getting a real kick out of it.

Or he'd cover me in honey, force me to run wild around the estate, and command his wolfhound to hunt me down, slam me to the ground, and tear my clothes apart.

I wasn't the mistress of this estate. I didn't even get the basic respect they'd show the lowest maid.

There was a bell hanging in his room, connected to mine. Every half hour, he'd ring it.

He'd make me clean up his soaked clothes, pick up the vases he'd smashed, and scrub the carpets he'd dirtied.

Day after day, I never got a moment's rest. When night fell, I had to suffer Vincent's abuse.

He was rough, and the whole time, he kept moaning Isabelle's name.

I cried my heart out, despair and agony threatening to drown me completely.

He casually wiped away my tears and sneered, "Violet, drop the act."

For eight years, my hopes were shattered every time.

The Salvatores had forgotten me. My parents never came for me or called me.

My only glimmer of hope was that Vincent would take pity on me every once in a while.

He'd gently cup my face, brushing my cheeks with his thumbs and asking, "Is it tough, being forgotten out here?"

I was too scared to admit it, so I only shook my head.

Vincent would grin and say, "Violet, these days won't last forever."

His eyes softened for once. When he reached out, I instinctively shrank back. He frowned, and for a split second, I saw tenderness in his face.

"Trust me," Vincent murmured, drawing me close. "One day, we'll make everyone who abandoned us regret it."

I never dared to hope for anything. All I wanted was for him to stop pointing the gun at me so the bullets would not graze my arms and legs.

I didn't want to stand several feet away with an apple balanced on my head, forced to be his human target.

I definitely didn't want to be his prey, hunted down by his wolfhound when he rode a horse.

But I still hoped he'd leave this estate.

Maybe then, he wouldn't treat me like this anymore.

Maybe he wouldn't take out all his anger and frustration on me alone.

So when Vincent was finally brought back as the heir, I was really happy.

At last, I wouldn't have to be his living target anymore, who was going to die at any second.

But I still underestimated how vicious Vincent could be.

The day he became the head of the Costellos, he secretly brought Isabelle back, even though she was already married to Marcel. He also started planning a new wedding for the two of them.

But he wouldn't let me take back my original name or walk away from him.

"You've been by my side all these years, and you still can't get Marcelo out of your head?" Vincent, now the Alpha, demanded. "Violet, do you have a heart?"

What a joke. He forgave Isabelle, the one who abandoned him, and brought her back, but he still wanted to keep me around as his servant.

My body was littered with wounds and marks from his gunshots.

He never once showed me any kindness, but he still dared to ask if I had a heart.

All I wanted was to leave him, be safe and free, and be myself again.

But Vincent refused to let me go.

I wasn't even his lover. I was the lowest maid.

Vincent grabbed my neck and snapped, "You belong to me. I won't let you leave me. Never!"

I couldn't take it anymore. I snatched his gun, switched off the safety, and shot him right in the heart.

His eyes went wide in shock, but before he could react, I kept firing a few more times.

"Violet?" he gasped.

We were so close that his hot, crimson blood splashed right across my face.

I finally felt a rush of happiness and the thrill of revenge.

For the first time, Vincent showed bewilderment. He crumpled to the ground, watching the blood gush from his chest. His lips trembled as if he were trying to call out to me.

"Piece of shit. Gross." I lunged at him. When the bullets ran out, I grabbed the gun by the stock and smashed it down on his head, again and again. "Die!"

I had endured this hell for years.

They never intended to let me live.

I'd let them all die.

When the bodyguards rushed in, Vincent's face had been smashed beyond recognition. He was completely dead.

So was I.

A bodyguard shot me through the head.

However, the idea that my parents and Isabelle could fall victim to the Costellos' vengeance after I took Vincent out filled me with joy.