沈总醒后疯求复合，我挽着陆少的手：抱歉，你不配

Freya's POV

Cold raindrops pelted my face, mixing with the stinging pain on my cheeks. I couldn't tell if it was rain or tears.

The black Bentley's windows blocked out the noise from outside, but they couldn't block the chill radiating from the man in the back seat.

Blake Jenkins held an unlit cigar between his fingers, his eyes as cold as ice.

When his gaze swept over me, there wasn't a trace of warmth—only deep-seated hatred.

"Freya Stewart, remember your place."

His voice was low and hoarse, each word drilling clearly into my ears.

"Starting today, you're no longer the adopted daughter the Jenkins family doted on. Now you're just a nanny, a servant to wait on Lena."

My body trembled violently, my fingers clutching desperately at the hem of my clothes.

I lifted my head, eyes red and rimmed with tears, my voice shaking uncontrollably: "Blake, you went through all this trouble to find me just to make me a nanny for you and Lena Johnson? Why should I? What happened back then..."

"Shut up!" Blake cut me off sharply, crushing the cigar hard into the ashtray.

"You still dare bring up what happened back then? If it weren't for you, how would my parents have died so horribly? I almost didn't survive either! If it weren't for your gambling-addicted father, how would Lena have ended up disabled, stuck in a wheelchair for life!"

He leaned forward, his tall frame looming over me, the pressure suffocating.

"Let me tell you, Freya, if you don't want to spend the rest of your life rotting in prison, if you want your seriously ill mother to stay safe in the hospital, you'll obediently work as a nanny at the Jenkins family for three full years."

"For three years, whatever Lena tells you to do, you do it. If you dare show even a hint of resistance or complaint, I'll make sure you and your mother rot and stink in prison!"

The word "prison" was like a heavy hammer, smashing hard against my heart.

My mother had severe heart disease and needed constant hospital care.

If she went to prison, she'd surely die.

I had no choice, even though I knew Blake's hatred was based on a misunderstanding.

Even though I knew I was about to face endless torment, I could only nod.

"I... I agree."

My voice was as light as a feather, tears sliding down my face.

My tears hit the cold car floor and were instantly absorbed.

Blake watched me give in, his eyes showing no mercy, only the thrill of revenge.

He leaned back in his seat and said coldly: "Good. Remember your promise. If you dare go back on it, you'll face the consequences."

The Bentley slowly entered an upscale villa district, finally stopping in front of an impressive standalone villa.

The villa was luxuriously decorated—it was the home I'd grown up in, as familiar as could be.

But now, it looked like a gilded cage, waiting for me to step inside.

A servant opened the car door. I took a deep breath.

I pushed down the bitterness in my heart, kept my head down, and followed Blake into the villa.

The living room's floor heating was clearly on full blast, but the moment I walked in, I couldn't help but shiver.

On the sofa sat a woman in a white dress, her face pale, a hint of fragility in her features.

Her legs were covered with a thick blanket, and beneath her was an elegant wheelchair.

When Lena saw me, surprise flashed in her eyes first, caught off guard.

Then it was quickly replaced by smugness, though her face put on a look of embarrassment and awkwardness.

She pulled on Blake's hand, her voice soft, even a bit troubled.

"Blake, the three of us grew up together. Making Freya work as a nanny—isn't that too hard on her?"

"She looks so frail. I... I can take care of myself. There's no need to trouble her."

Blake held Lena's hand, his tone instantly softening.

Completely different from his coldness toward me moments ago, he even sounded a bit heartbroken: "Lena, you're just too kind. She owes you. Waiting on you is what she should do—there's nothing hard about it. Don't worry, I've already warned her. She wouldn't dare disobey. If she dares neglect you, I won't let her off."

Then he turned to look at me, his eyes once again cold as ice: "What are you standing there for? Go pour Lena a glass of water. Make it warm—not too hot, not too cold, just the right temperature to drink. If Lena isn't satisfied, you know what'll happen."

I didn't dare delay. I immediately turned and walked into the kitchen.

I carefully poured a glass of warm water, tested the temperature, and only after confirming it was just right did I carry the glass out.

But just as I was about to reach Lena, she suddenly screamed, her body tilting slightly, and the wheelchair lurched violently.

"Crash..."

The glass instantly fell to the floor, warm water spilling everywhere, splashing onto Lena's blanket.

"What are you doing!" Blake shot to his feet.

He pulled Lena into his arms protectively, glaring at me viciously: "Didn't I tell you to be careful? You did that on purpose, didn't you? You wanted to scald Lena, didn't you!"

My face went deathly pale with fear. I shook my head frantically: "I didn't, Blake, it wasn't on purpose. She moved herself..."

"You dare make excuses!"

Blake cut me off harshly, strode up to me in a few steps, and slapped me hard across the face.

The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the quiet living room, especially jarring.

I was struck so hard my head turned to the side, my cheek instantly swelling red, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth.

"Blake, don't be angry. Don't blame her."

Lena tugged at Blake's sleeve, pretending to plead.

"Freya grew up pampered and privileged. She's never done this kind of rough work. She can learn slowly. Don't blame her."

As she spoke, she snuck a glance at me, her eyes full of undisguised gloating.

She wanted me to know that now Blake was protecting her, and I could only watch from my lowly position.

Blake looked at Lena's delicate appearance, and the anger in his heart burned even hotter.

He looked at me and shouted: "Hurry up and apologize to Lena! Then go wash her blanket clean. If you dare leave even a single stain, I'll make you lick this water off the floor, mouthful by mouthful!"

I covered my swollen cheek, tears welling up in my eyes.

I didn't apologize. I just bit my lip hard, letting the blood from the corner of my mouth spread.

"What? You won't?" Blake's eyes darkened. He reached out and grabbed my chin, squeezing so hard it felt like he'd crush it. "Freya, I'll give you one more chance. Apologize, then go wash the blanket. Otherwise, I'll call the hospital right now and cut off your mother's medical expenses!"

The sharp pain in my chin and my mother's safety completely broke me.

I had no choice but to give in, my voice choked with sobs as I slowly said: "I'm... I'm sorry, Ms. Johnson. I didn't mean to."