Chapter 1
After losing the inheritance battle, Donovan Winston spent a fortune to have me locked up in a mental institution.
But what he didn't know was that I was actually crazy.
I'd been pretending to be normal for over twenty years just to fit in with society.
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After losing the inheritance battle, Donovan spent a fortune to have me locked up in a mental institution.
Not only that, he even gifted Albert Nevett, the director of the mental institution, a villa.
His only demand? Throw me in with the most insane people in the entire institution.
But I was born crazy.
I'd been pretending to be normal for over twenty years just to fit in with society.
Inside the diagnosis room.
"What's your name?" the doctor asked.
"Cassidy Winston," I answered.
"Severe mental illness. You should stay for observation."
The doctor couldn't hide the guilt in his tone.
Was this guy for real?
He decided I was insane just from my name?
I suspected he was even crazier than I.
No, there was no way I was letting anyone out-crazy me in my own domain.
Without hesitation, I grabbed the doctor's head and slammed it onto the desk.
He looked absolutely terrified.
He opened his mouth and started screaming for help.
He was so noisy.
So I shoved the diagnosis report straight into his mouth to shut him up.
I grabbed the pen from the desk and stabbed it deep into the back of his hand, which was pressing the alarm.
His voice caught in his throat from the agony, cold sweat and blood dripping onto the desk.
I burst out laughing, absolutely thrilled.
Donovan was scared out of his wits, standing right beside me.
He frantically ordered the bodyguards to pin me down.
But those bodyguards didn't stand a chance against me.
Ever since I was a kid, Grandpa hired retired special forces instructors to drain my energy so that I wouldn't hurt people when I acted crazy.
I dodged a punch, used his own momentum against him, and in no time, I had the bodyguards piled up like a bunch of fallen dominoes.
I sat gracefully on top of the stack, looking down at Donovan from my throne.
Then I made the bodyguard on top mimic Donovan... no, scratch that, made him squeal like a pig.
Donovan was furious, but he was also terrified.
From a safe distance, he threatened me, "Cassidy, if you keep acting out, how's your grandpa ever supposed to rest in peace?"
Grandpa was always my soft spot.
I was still overseas when I heard the news that Grandpa had died.
By the time I made it back, everything was already settled.
I didn't even get to see Grandpa one last time.
The worst part was that Donovan didn't even have Grandpa buried right away.
Instead, he held it over my head.
If I didn't give up my claim, he threatened to flush Grandpa's ashes straight down the sewer.
I never cared about the inheritance. All that mattered to me was Grandpa.
I quickly signed the agreement Donovan handed me and pressed my fingerprint on it.
I agreed to check myself into the mental institution.
I just wanted Grandpa to rest in peace.
Even someone as nuts as me had a conscience.
But Donovan, who was Grandpa's own son, was heartless.
When he threatened me with Grandpa again, I reluctantly slid off the bodyguard's back.
Seeing me calm down, Donovan flashed a phony, smarmy grin.
"Be good, Cassidy. If you behave and stay put, I'll make sure your grandpa gets a proper send-off tomorrow," he said.
"All the city's big shots will be there.
"I know you want to say your final goodbyes to Grandpa.
"So I made sure Mr. Nevett will have everyone in the hospital watch it with you on TV."
I shot him a cold look. "You'd better keep your word."
This mental institution was the most exclusive in the whole city.
It wasn't because the patients were wealthy or influential, but because everyone here was crazier than the last.
It even had its own special equipment.
They could slowly drive a perfectly normal person insane.
Donovan was convinced that once I was admitted here, I'd either end up dead or lose my mind.
But the thing was, I was already crazy.
Instead, I couldn't wait to meet the rest of my kind.
The room was small, with four iron beds lined up neatly, two on each side facing each other.
As I stepped through the door, I spotted something yellow and gooey wriggling on the floor.
It was a weird color, its shape all vague. It looked just like a pile of poop.
It made me feel sick.
Who would do something like that, pooping right on the floor?
And it was a big lump, too.
I was about to turn to the nurse and say, "This place is filthy."
But before I could get the words out, my foot slipped.
I stepped right on it.
Suddenly, the thing let out a blood-curdling scream.
I froze for a couple of seconds.
That was when I realized that it wasn't poop at all.
It turned out to be a person.
It was a person wearing clothes in the exact shade of poop.
She was slithering across the floor like a centipede, trying to look all elegant.
As she twisted around, she muttered, "I can turn poop into food."
My disgust hit a whole new level.
I hit her with a roundhouse kick and sent her flying across the room.
The noise was enough to wake the dead.
The woman by the window had wild, tangled hair.
She suddenly looked up, her gaze locking onto me.
For a moment, her eyes sparkled.