Chapter Four
Evelyn's POV
I look at them, and the scene feels all too familiar.
No matter what happens, if Sophie is the one who gets hurt, I am always the one to blame.
It doesn't matter that I never moved. It doesn't matter that she cut her own arm. They won't even bother asking questions.
They've already decided I'm guilty.
“I'm engaged now.” I raise my hand. “I have no reason to frame Sophie over Mason.”
Richard lets out a cold laugh.
“You're still claiming you're engaged? You think wearing a fake ring makes it true?”
Mason looks at me with a conflicted expression, as if he wants to say something. In the end, he only turns to Richard.
“Dad, stop pushing her. She's not thinking clearly right now. We can talk about this after she calms down.”
Sophie leans against him, crying softly.
“It's okay, Mason. Evelyn just doesn't like me. I'll be fine.”
The more she pretends to defend me, the more convinced everyone becomes that I'm cruel.
Richard's face hardens.
“Bring me the horsewhip.”
The butler stays where he is, hesitating.
“Did you hear me?” Richard snaps. “Being my daughter doesn't exempt her from the Parker family rules.”
The butler soon returns with a black leather whip and places it in his hand.
Diana doesn't try to stop him. She simply turns away as if she can't bear to watch. Ryan stands beside Sophie with a cold expression. Mason stays close to Sophie and doesn't take a single step toward me.
I finally understand.
Their so-called family discipline is never about finding out the truth. It's about forcing whoever they've already decided is guilty into silence.
Richard walks over and raises the whip.
“I'm asking you one last time. Get on your knees, apologize to Sophie, and admit you hurt her.”
I stare at the whip without saying a word.
The whip strikes my shoulder and back.
Pain tears through me, burning from my skin deep into my bones. I stumble and catch myself against the edge of the table before I fall.
Sophie presses closer to Mason.
Mason frowns.
“Dad, that's enough. She can't take much more.”
Richard looks at him.
“Do you feel sorry for her?”
Mason parts his lips but says nothing.
The whip keeps cutting across my clothes, each strike leaving another line of burning pain. Soon, the only sounds in the room are the crack of the whip and Sophie's muffled sobs.
The pain becomes too much. My knees buckle, and I drop onto one knee.
Richard still isn't satisfied.
“Kneel properly. Apologize to Sophie!”
I brace one hand against the floor and slowly force myself back to my feet. Cold sweat soaks through my clothes. My voice is hoarse but clear.
“I didn't do it.”
“You still dare to talk back?”
The whip comes down again.
The pain builds until my entire body goes numb. Blood seeps from the wounds and stains my white shirt.
By the time Richard finally stops, I can barely stand.
He points toward the front door.
“If you refuse to admit what you did, then you can kneel outside. You can come back in when you've admitted you were wrong.”
The cold night wind hits me the moment I step outside.
The butler forces me down onto the front steps, and my knees slam against the cold stone. The front door slowly closes, shutting out the familiar faces and warm light inside.
Through the glass, I watch Mason adjust Sophie's shawl.
He lowers his head and says something to her. A moment later, she smiles.
I look away and kneel upright in the darkness. The stone beneath me is freezing, but the wounds on my back burn as if they're being torn open.
Time passes, and the lights inside the house go out one by one.
A light rain begins after midnight, soaking my hair and clothes. I can no longer feel my legs, and my fingers are stiff with cold, but I remain on my knees.
The butler passes the door several times. Each time, he looks as if he wants to say something. Each time, he turns away.
The rain stops just before dawn.
Gray light spreads across the eastern sky as my vision begins to blur. In the distance, I hear a car approaching. Its headlights cut through the morning fog, and the car stops in front of the house.
The door opens, and Nate gets out quickly.
The moment he sees me, his expression turns cold. He rushes over and catches me as I begin to collapse.
“Who did this to you?”
His voice is tight with anger, and his eyes lock on the front door behind me.
Nate helps me to my feet, then turns toward the house.
“I'm going in there. They're going to answer for this.”
I use the last of my strength to grab his sleeve.
“Don't.”
He stops and looks down at me.
My entire body is shaking from the pain. My voice is barely more than a whisper.
“I want to leave.”
The anger in Nate's eyes gives way to pain.
A moment later, he bends down and lifts me into his arms, careful but steady.
I rest against his chest as he tells the driver, “Head home. Have the other cars follow us.”
The door closes, and the Parker estate quickly disappears behind us.
I watch the courtyard, the long hallway, and that familiar front door recede through the window. Only one thought remains in my mind.
I never want to see this place again.
The car carries me into the morning light. I finally close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.
