Chapter 4

My scream died in my throat, my mouth sealed shut by the thick, sticky syrup.

Every inch of my face burned fiercely, as if a red-hot branding iron was pressed against my skin and dragged back and forth relentlessly.

I collapsed onto the marble floor, digging my fingers into the cracks between the tiles. My nails tore clean off, and blood oozed through my fingertips.

William’s voice boomed down from above. "It’s just some syrup. Don’t be so dramatic. Drag her to the ice cellar. This stuff hardens when it’s cold. When we peel it off later, it’ll rip your skin right off. Let’s see if you’ll still dare to hire lawyers then."

Two men grabbed me by the arms and hauled me to my feet. My knees slammed into the doorframe, and I felt bones crack beneath my flesh.

The heavy cellar door swung open, and a frigid gust of air washed over me. I was thrown harshly to the ground, the back of my head slamming against the ice. Black spots danced across my vision.

The door slammed shut with a deafening thud.

Total darkness swallowed everything. The bitter cold seeped through my clothes, stabbing my burned skin like countless tiny needles. The syrup coating my face began to harden, tightening into a rigid shell. Every breath pulled painfully at the raw flesh underneath.

My burns blazed with heat, while the ice beneath drained every last bit of warmth from my body. Scorching fire and freezing cold waged war inside my bones.

I pressed my palms against the ice, trying to push myself up. The slick surface sent me sliding instantly. Sharp ice shards sliced open my hands, and fresh blood welled up, freezing into tiny red crystals in no time.

I lost track of time. It could have been hours, or an entire day. My consciousness flickered in and out, jolted awake by searing pain before sinking back into the endless dark.

The shell of syrup on my face had fully hardened. I tried to part my lips, and the sound of tearing flesh echoed in my ears. Agony wracked my body, and I curled into a tight ball, biting down hard on my lower lip. The skin there had already peeled away, leaving only raw flesh beneath my teeth.

On the first day, Peter, the old housekeeper, snuck down with food. He had served the old master for decades and watched me grow up.

With my last bit of strength, I clutched his trouser leg. Using my bloodied nails, I scraped the word Help into the icy ground and begged him to go find William.

Peter returned later with red-rimmed eyes and a breaking voice. "Ma’am… Aurora’s blocking the entrance. The young master gave orders: anyone who pleads for you will be fired on the spot."

By the second day, my sight grew blurry. My wounds were badly infected, and a raging fever made me feel like I was burning alive.

On the third day, I could not even move my fingers.

The massive iron door creaked open once more.

"Ma’am!" Peter’s trembling cry cut through the silence.

I lay motionless on the ground, soaked in melted ice and my own blood. Peter reached out to check my breath, then stumbled backward and collapsed to his knees.

He raced outside in a panic, ignoring Aurora completely this time, and dragged William down into the cellar.

"Sir! She’s not breathing!"

Rapid footsteps drew near. I half-opened my pus-filled eyes and saw William’s hands — always arrogant and confident — shaking violently.

He knelt down slowly and pressed two fingers to my neck to check my pulse.

The next second, he jerked his hand away as if he’d been electrocuted. His face turned deathly pale, and he stumbled, nearly falling over.

My pulse was faint, barely detectable. I was on the brink of death.

William spoke in a daze. "It was just burns… How could this happen…"

"Call a doctor," he ordered, his voice tight with unease.

Aurora’s light, careless voice rang out. "Don’t! William, it’s better if she dies. Once she’s gone, that hidden will becomes worthless. No one can take your shares anymore."

William said nothing.

He stared fixedly at my disfigured face, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. He did not argue a single word.

No ambulance arrived. No one made any attempt to save me.

In that moment, my heart turned colder than the solid ice beneath me.

After they left, Peter came back alone. Loyal to the old master until the end, he made up his mind to betray William.

He avoided every security camera, called his most trusted men outside, and wrapped me tightly in waterproof tarpaulin. They carried me out through a side exit and onto a speedboat waiting nearby. To cover my escape, Peter doused the area outside the ice cellar with gasoline and set it ablaze. Flames shot high into the sky.

The speedboat’s engine roared across the dark sea.

The salty sea wind stung my blood-caked face, but I could barely feel the pain anymore. Peter held a first-aid kit, tears streaming down his face. "Hold on, ma’am. I’m taking you abroad for treatment."

I forced my blood-crusted lips apart and grabbed his wrist with my final strength. My voice was hoarse and guttural, carried away by the wind.

"Tell William…"

"Selene......"

" is dead."