Chapter 2

Freya's POV

The smile on Lena's lips deepened, but she waved her hand like she was being generous, her voice still soft, even a little caring. "It's fine, Freya, just be more careful next time. I know things aren't easy for you, don't be too hard on yourself. Go clean it up, no rush."

Only then did Blake let go of my chin. "Well? Go!" he said coldly.

I stumbled to my feet and bent down to pick up the broken glass.

The shards cut my fingertips, and blood dripped down, bright red against the floor.

I didn't make a sound. I pushed through the pain in my fingers and the throbbing ache on my cheek.

I picked up Lena's wet skirt and walked into the laundry room.

There was no heat in there. The cold tap water stung my hands like needles.

The water hit my cuts and sent sharp pain shooting through me.

I scrubbed the blanket hard, over and over again.

I didn't stop until every last stain was gone and the blanket looked brand new.

Just as I was about to put it in the dryer, Lena appeared in the doorway.

She was holding a cup of steaming hot coffee, and the fake politeness from before was completely gone. Her eyes were full of open cruelty.

"Freya, you're so slow. I've been waiting forever."

Before I could react, Lena threw the coffee straight at me.

The scalding liquid hit my hands and body all at once. The burning spread instantly, and my skin turned red and swollen.

"Ah!" I couldn't hold back the cry.

Lena looked at me with a fake apologetic expression. "Oops, my hand slipped. But honestly, who told you to take so long? Looks like you're just not trying hard enough."

She paused, then added in a low voice, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Freya, look around you. Blake only has eyes for me now. Even the chance to serve me is something he's giving you out of pity. Everything you took from me before — I'm going to take it all back, piece by piece."

I looked up at Lena's vicious face, and all the hatred and hurt inside me came rushing up at once.

I wanted to go at her, to say everything I'd been holding back. But then I thought of Blake's threats. I thought of my mom. And I forced every bit of that anger back down.

I bit my teeth together, pushed through the burning pain all over my body, and bent down to apologize to Lena.

Lena looked at me holding it all in, and smiled with satisfaction.

Before she left, she put on that innocent act one more time. "Freya, just take good care of me from now on. Maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll put in a word for you with Blake. Maybe even get some imported medicine for that dying mother of yours."

Lena's words were like a dull blade dragging slowly across my heart.

My mind drifted, and I was back in the past.

Back in the Jenkins home, when it was still full of warmth and laughter.

I was five when I was taken by traffickers and sold to a family deep in the mountains, where I was raised to become a wife to their son.

I was only given tiny amounts of moldy food each day, and I suffered through every kind of cruelty.

Just when I was losing all hope, Blake's mother, Emily Jenkins, came into my life.

She was doing charity work in the mountains when she found me. She took me out of there.

When Emily saw how thin and broken I looked, her eyes went red. She held me in her arms and said softly, "From now on, I'll be your mom. Okay?"

Blake was only seven back then, still with that childlike look about him.

When he saw Emily bring me home, he was a little shy at first.

But he still reached out and handed me a piece of hard candy. "I'll protect you from now on. Nobody's going to hurt you."

From that day on, I became the Jenkins family's adopted daughter, and I grew up alongside Blake.

James and Emily treated me like their own. They spoiled me and loved me.

They were the ones who gave me my name — Freya.

And Blake looked after me in every way. No matter what upset me, no matter what I wanted, he was always the first one there.

I remember being scared of the dark as a little kid. Blake would stay with me, tell me stories, and sit by my side until I fell asleep.

I remember tripping and falling once. Blake picked me up so carefully and cleaned my wounds with such gentle hands.

I remember my eighteenth birthday. Blake gave me a necklace and looked at me with the softest eyes. "Freya, when you finish college, let's get married."

Back then, everyone around us was envious of what we had.

I thought that warmth and happiness would never end.

I thought Blake and I would walk down the aisle together and spend our whole lives side by side.

But I never could have seen what was coming. One sudden disaster shattered everything.

And it turned Blake and me from family into enemies.

When I was eighteen, the Jenkins family was completely wiped out.

James's company was framed by a rival and went bankrupt.

Then his enemies came after him.

Blake was ambushed on his way home. The moment James and Emily heard, they got in the car to go to him.

They never made it. There was an accident on the way. The car was destroyed, and their bodies were barely recognizable.

Blake was nearly killed too, after being held by his enemies.

Just when everyone thought the Jenkins family was gone, Lena showed up.

And somehow, she pointed the finger at me and my gambling-addicted birth father as the ones responsible.

From that day on, Blake became a completely different person.

He put every bit of his parents' deaths on me.

I let out a bitter laugh. I hadn't done anything. I was just as much a victim of what happened. I wanted to explain, but Blake never gave me the chance.

Then the laundry room door swung open.

Blake walked in. He saw the coffee stains on me, saw my swollen hands.

Not a trace of concern. Just cold, flat words. "Lena says her shoulders hurt. Go to her now and massage her back until she's satisfied."

My body went stiff. The pain in my fingertips felt distant, almost numb.

I looked up, eyes still wet, and tried to say something in a rough voice. "Blake, I..."

"I don't want to hear a single word out of you."

Blake cut me off hard. The disgust in his eyes was barely contained. He didn't wait for me to speak again. He just turned and walked out.

His last words hung in the air like ice. "If Lena has even one complaint, I'll have your mother thrown out of that hospital."

The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed them back down. Tears blurred my vision again.

I knew it was pointless to say anything. Blake had already made up his mind that I was guilty. Nothing I said would change that.

So I bit down hard, pushed through the burning all over my body and the stabbing pain in my fingers, and walked step by step toward the living room.

Lena was stretched out on the sofa. When she saw me come in, she made a show of frowning and rubbing her shoulder, her voice soft and fragile. "Freya, there you are. My shoulder is killing me. Come here and rub it for me — and be gentle. Don't hurt me."