Chapter 2

I stared at the phone and remembered that time Celia got stuck in the elevator.

She begged me for help. I ignored her and walked off in my heels without even looking back.

That same night, the lunatic heir had me thrown into a black room.

During those three days and nights, I had no food and no water. I'm hungry and cold. The fear wrapped around me like a noose in total darkness.

Samuel had my location on his phone. He was the only one who could find me right away.

I called him over and over, begging for help.

But he only warned me, "Apologize to Celia properly, and I'll come get you."

Of course, I refused to give in. I called the cops, but somehow, they pulled some strings. No one could track me down.

When the police followed up at my house, my father, my brother, and Samuel all denied that anything had happened. The cops ended up warning me. If I filed another false report, I would face legal consequences.

I held on for three days, barely. It pushed me to the edge.

I was terrified. I broke down in tears and apologized to Celia.

That was the first time in ten years I ever bowed my head to Grace and Celia.

It was also the first time Celia ever had the chance to step on me.

She smiled sweetly and was glad I'd finally realized my mistake.

My dad and brother praised me for finally behaving and growing up, encouraging me to keep it up.

After I got out of that room, I developed claustrophobia.

I was afraid of the dark now, of small, enclosed spaces. But lying there in that warehouse, I wasn't scared at all.

Maybe fear only existed when a person still had the will to live.

I didn't touch the phone.

I stayed there for three full days.

And I thought about a lot of things.

I remembered when I was little, back when Mom was still alive, and the four of us were a happy family. I was the little princess everyone doted on.

Then Mom got sick. Chemo and radiation drained every bit of life from her, and Dad started coming home less and less.

I remembered how Mom had screamed and cried, how that mistress sent her intimate photos with Dad while Mom was fighting for her life.

I also remembered the day she brought her daughter to our house boldly to celebrate Mom's last birthday.

Mom was shaking with rage.

She had just gotten back from chemo, barely holding on. Her heart gave out, and that was it. She never made it back.

That day, my brother, Matthew Sinclair, held me and cried his eyes out.

He stroked my back and whispered, "Vivian, don't be scared. You still have me. I won't let them hurt you."

Less than a month after Mom died, he brought his mistress and bastard into our home.

At first, Matthew hated them like I did. He wanted nothing to do with Grace and Celia.

So, when did that change?

Maybe it was the moment Celia, with trembling hands, offered him her only piece of candy.

Or maybe it was when she sat on the school steps, pretending to cry in the exact spot where she knew Matthew would pass by, head down, too proud to ask for help, but making sure he'd see her anyway.

Celia had always played the pitiful, helpless girl, just like her mother, that annoying mistress.

And me? I was always painted as the cruel one, the heartless bully.

At some point, Matthew started looking at me differently.

Every time I clashed with Celia, he took her side.

It was like he forgot Mom's pain and forgot how she died.

When I confronted him, he got impatient. "Mom had cancer. It was terminal anyway," he said.

See? It was so familiar, so cold.

That was the same excuse Dad used over and over to defend his mistress. Now Matthew said it too, like it was nothing.

After that, I didn't have a family anymore.

And now, the person I brought home, the one I called family, had no problem stabbing me again and again, all for the sake of that damn mistress and her daughter.

I looked down at my broken limbs, then at that filthy phone. And I laughed.

This life, betrayal after betrayal, all tangled up in hate, there really wasn't anything left to care about.

I never touched that phone. I just lay three days until the very end.