Chapter 7 Where Do You Want to Escape To

Emma was forcefully shoved into the car by Marcus, and when they arrived at Dawn Blossom Estate, she was dragged straight out.

Without a word, he cut off any chance of escape and hoisted Emma over his shoulder, carrying her step by step back to the cage where he kept her imprisoned.

"Let go! Marcus! You have no right to treat me like this!"

Emma could only struggle desperately, clenching her fists and pounding frantically on his back.

The next second, a feeling of weightlessness hit her.

Emma was thrown hard onto the soft but cold leather sofa, the impact making her bones ache.

But Emma couldn't worry about that, because Mary was still outside!

She had begged Mary through tears to help her find a chance to escape. Mary couldn't get hurt!

Emma staggered up, pushing against the sofa armrest, about to rush toward the door when her wrist was grabbed again.

"Where do you think you're going, Emma!"

His voice was low and hoarse, each word grinding over ice.

Ignoring the sharp pain in her wrist, Emma turned and grabbed his collar, demanding, "Where's Mary! What did you do with her!"

Marcus coldly ordered toward the door, "Throw her in!"

Two bodyguards in black dragged Mary through the door and shoved her hard to the floor. Her knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

Seeing this, Emma's heart felt like it was being squeezed by a hand, the pain nearly shattering it.

This was all her fault. If she hadn't asked Mary for help, Mary wouldn't have been dragged into this, wouldn't be suffering like this.

Mary struggled to lift her head and glare at Marcus, her eyes full of fury as she cursed him out.

"You bastards! This is illegal detention! Bastard, let me go, let Emma go! You're a stupid, vicious demon who doesn't deserve love. I curse you to be alone forever!"

Before Mary could finish, her mouth was roughly stuffed with a rag!

Only muffled, unintelligible sounds remained.

Marcus's brow furrowed slightly, and just as he was about to speak again.

Emma knew too well—this was the warning sign of his rising fury. She quickly blocked his path again, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Marcus, please, this has nothing to do with her. I forced her to help me. Please let her go."

He looked down, his deep blue eyes churning with unquenchable rage, like a volcano about to erupt.

"Emma, you asked her to help you escape? Have you forgotten what I told you?"

Marcus's final question came from his nose, carrying an irresistible sense of oppression.

Emma gasped for air, her body trembling with fear, her lips quivering as she explained.

"I haven't forgotten, but this has nothing to do with her. Let her go!"

He let out a cold laugh. "Trying to escape? Looks like you need to be taught a lesson."

With that, he turned and walked to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a yellowed old photograph.

Before Emma could react, a lighter sparked to life with a blue flame.

He pinched the corner of the photo and held its edge to the fire. The flames instantly leaped up, greedily devouring the photo paper.

"No!"

Emma's mind went blank.

That was the only photo of her mother!

But now, that one and only photo was gradually curling and blackening in the flames.

Then Emma's legs gave out, and she fell straight to her knees on the cold floor. The piercing pain in her knees was nothing compared to one ten-thousandth of the pain in her heart.

So this was the price of defying him!

"Marcus! I was wrong! Please stop, I'm begging you."

Emma knelt at his feet, clutching his pant leg desperately, looking up at him as tears blurred her vision.

He slowly blew out the flame and crouched down to meet Emma's eyes, his tone taking on an unusually gentle quality.

But that gentleness was like a demon's whisper, sending chills down the spine.

"No, you still don't know you're wrong."

In that instant, Emma felt an almost desperate terror, choking her chest until she couldn't breathe.

All Emma could do was apologize over and over incoherently, her forehead pressed to the ground as she begged.

"I'll listen to you. I'll never run away again. I was wrong, really wrong."

He finally seemed satisfied with Emma's reaction. His hand holding the photo slowly released, and the half-burned photo floated down lightly, landing on the floor.

"Mother!"

Emma cried out and lunged forward. Her trembling hand had just reached for it when a black leather shoe stomped down hard.

Marcus stood up, one hand in his suit pocket, looking down at Emma from above with no expression on his face, only cold indifference in his eyes.

The pressure from the shoe grew heavier and heavier. Emma could clearly feel the excruciating pain in her fingertips, but she didn't dare pull her hand back.

If she did, she would lose even the last photo of her mother.

He gave orders in a flat tone, as if discussing something trivial.

"Take Mary back and have her parents discipline her properly."

Emma watched helplessly as the bodyguards lifted the struggling Mary and dragged her out.

And she could do nothing. In that moment, she was engulfed by a deep sense of powerlessness, guilt flooding over her like a tide.

Because of her selfishness, the only photo of her mother was gone.

Because she helped her, Mary was being sent back to the home she had desperately tried to escape.

Everything was her fault. It was all because of her.

"I was wrong, I was wrong."

Emma hung her head low, repeating the same words over and over.

Her heart felt wrapped and entangled in an airtight net, her consciousness gradually blurring.

Finally, her vision went black, and she passed out completely.

When Emma opened her eyes again, her wrist was wrapped in an iron chain, the other end nailed into the wall.

She lay on the bed, drained of any strength to resist, her mind filled only with thoughts of how Mary was doing, whether her mother's photo was still there.

Thinking of these things, that familiar suffocating feeling wrapped around her again.

Tears slid down from the corners of her eyes, leaving only helpless pain and despair.

"Emma, how did you end up looking so pitiful?"

A sound came from the doorway.

Evelyn carried a plate of rotten, spoiled food, treating her like a dog.

She casually threw the plate in front of Emma. The foul smell invaded Emma's nostrils, making her stomach churn with nausea.

"Marcus said that to prevent you from running away again, I'll be bringing you food these next few days, to break that disobedient streak of yours."

A vicious gleam flashed in her eyes as she kicked the plate with her toe.

"This food is a gift for you. Enjoy it slowly."

With that, Evelyn left with a laugh.

Emma's hollow gaze slowly came back into focus, looking down at these things that couldn't really be called food.

If this were before, she definitely wouldn't have even glanced at them.

But Emma touched her abdomen—her child was there, her hope.

Life gradually returned to her dead eyes.

Emma grabbed the food from the plate, abandoning all dignity, stuffing it into her mouth.

Only by eating enough could her child survive, could she escape in the future!