Chapter2

I lay prone on the hospital floor for God knows how long. By the time the red-eyed nurse managed to haul me back onto the bed, I ripped every IV needle from the back of my hand and used her phone to order a cab. She tried to stop me. I didn't listen.

When the cab pulled up to the estate gates, the driver checked his rearview mirror three times, biting back whatever he wanted to say. I shoved the car door open and stepped out onto the snow. My legs gave out instantly, sending me crashing hard onto my knees.

I forced myself back up and pushed open the heavy front doors of the estate.

The moment the doors swung open, my spine arched violently as a massive mouthful of blood sprayed directly from my lips. The great hall was blazing with light. Every crystal chandelier was fully illuminated, a fresh arrangement of champagne roses sat on the coffee table, and a maid was busy setting out a new set of bone china on the dining table.

"Always with the theatrics."

A pair of diamond-encrusted, pointed stilettos stopped right in my line of sight. The steep heel plunged unhesitatingly into that fresh puddle of blood.

I raised my head. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, glared down at me from her imperious height. Those limited-edition Jimmy Choos on her feet—now smeared with my blood—were the exact birthday gift I had bought her last year to win her favor, paid for with the money I earned working grueling night shifts for three months straight.

"Look at this cheap red wine all over the floor. Faking an illness wasn't enough, so now you've resorted to spitting fake blood?" Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "This trick is so played out. When Chloe charged into that fire to save my son, she laid her life on the line. She suffered severe burns, and we never heard her cry out in pain once. But you? Who exactly are you putting this daily performance on for?"

Heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase.

"You just love putting on a show!"

Ethan stormed down the stairs. His face—which shared so many of my own features—was contorted with unconcealed loathing. "Chloe was absolutely right about you! You don't care about me at all! Last year, every single kid in my class had their mom there, but you? You didn't even bother to call!"

He roared, his face flushing red with rage. "You never went to a single parent-teacher conference! When I was sick in the hospital, you never came once! What kind of mother are you?!"

I opened my mouth, but only a string of bloody foam spilled out.

On the day of his tenth birthday last year, I was lying in the ICU with acute lung failure, a breathing tube as thick as two fingers shoved down my throat. Liam had ordered the nurses to confiscate my phone. As for the parent-teacher conferences—Chloe had spent the last three years whispering in his ear, telling him, "Your mother just thinks you're an embarrassment."

"You only married into this family for the money!" Ethan's voice trembled. "Chloe says you never even loved this family!"

He snatched up the thin coat I had dropped by the doorway, swung his arm back, and whipped it viciously into my face. "Go to the basement! We have guests coming over tonight. Stop embarrassing us here!"

Looking past my furious son, my gaze drifted to the leather sofas in the center of the grand hall. My own biological parents sat right there.

My father kept his head bowed the entire time, his thumb rapidly swiping across his phone screen. My mother actually stood up, but the moment she saw the specks of blood I had coughed up splattered near the seating area, she instinctively recoiled a half-step. Her hands gripped fiercely at her newly bought maxi dress, terrified my blood might stain it. That dress was paid for with the ten grand she had drained from my bank account just last week.

"What a cursed mess..." she muttered under her breath. "Putting on this dying act... how are we supposed to hold our heads up in front of the relatives after this?"

In that entire magnificent hall, not a single person asked me, "What's wrong?"

Seeing that I hadn't moved, Ethan marched forward and shoved my shoulders hard with both hands. I stumbled clumsily backward toward the gloomy, unheated corridor leading to the basement. The temperature plummeted out there. Provoked by the freezing air, the massive swath of burn scars on my back began to spasm and throb in agonizing pain.

"Hurry up and move!" Ethan continued pushing me.

I was pushed all the way to the threshold. I stopped, turned around, and took one last look at the flawlessly lit hall. Eleanor was directing the maids to fetch hot towels to scrub the blood off the soles of her shoes. My mother was still fiercely protecting the hem of her dress. My father's phone screen was still glowing. Ethan glared at me, his face full of utter impatience.

I had thought at least someone was waiting for me here. Now I saw there was no one.

SLAM!

The heavy door slammed shut right in my face. I was completely locked out of the hall.

The howling wind poured through the drafty cracks, freezing every bone in my body to the marrow. Yet, a sudden, profound peace washed over me. I didn't even have the strength left to feel the pain.