Chapter 3

The sharp blade pressed against my cheek, bringing a piercing pain that made me gasp involuntarily.

I struggled to make muffled sounds, unable to get a single word out.

I desperately wanted to know - what exactly did she want?

A nanny's daughter who had stolen my identity and lived as part of the Brown family for over twenty years, while I, the biological daughter, was forced to give way at every turn. She had taken my parents and my brother, and now even my husband had firmly chosen her side. What more could she possibly want?

Sophia's voice sounded almost cheerful as the blade slowly pressed harder, dragging down my face. Half my face burned with pain, and a sticky liquid spread across my skin along with the agony.

Her tone was unhurried: "What are you trying to say? I can't understand you. Whatever, probably nothing nice anyway, so just keep quiet and listen to me."

The blade pressed against my jaw again, her voice dripping with smugness: "This face of yours really bothers me, so before I send you off, I need to ruin it myself. You'd better not move, or if I accidentally poke your eye out, you can't blame me."

She giggled, and with her laughter, the blade at my jaw trembled, jabbing at my neck with each chuckle.

The pain seemed to go numb. I tried desperately to turn my head away from the blade, struggling with all my might. Her arrogant face filled my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to take her down with me right then and there.

"Don't get so worked up, Emma. My hand isn't steady, and with you moving around like this - see, the knife is already cutting up your face." She said with a laugh, her voice light and sweet.

She used to do this too - using the most innocent voice, blinking at me with the purest expression: "Emma, I've got my eye on Gregory. You don't mind if I take him too, right?"

What disgusts me most is her pathetic, fake, fragile act - packaging herself as this perfect little angel while pulling the most vicious stunts behind the scenes. If my hands were free right now, I'd claw that mask right off her face without hesitation.

But I couldn't move. I could only let her drag the knife across my face again and again. My whole face had gone numb, and thick liquid flowed to the corner of my lips, tasting metallic and salty.

"Gregory said From now on, I'm his sister. Who wants to be his sister? The way you look now, you'd probably scare people to death if you went out. You probably can't get married anymore, right? If you can't get married, then I won't be his sister anymore, will I?"

She giggled as she spoke, but each stroke grew heavier. It felt like she was peeling my entire face off. When the pain reached its peak, numbness, even my teeth were chattering.

I bit down hard on my lower lip. The adrenaline surge had numbed me to the pain. I kept adjusting the angle of the glass in my palm, frantically sawing at the rope binding my hands. I had to be faster, even faster. If I got just one chance, even if it meant dying, I'd take this bitch down with me.

Then a hand removed the black cloth covering my eyes. She frowned slightly, her beautiful face showing distress: "You're really wasting my time. Don't glare at me like that - if I get scared and this knife pokes your eyeball, blood will be all over your face. How horrible would that be?"

Her face twisted with malice, like a demon wearing an angel's disguise.

I stared hard at her fake face, my hands never stopping their work despite the searing pain in my palms.

Sophia covered her mouth and laughed softly, looking innocent: "You must be cursing me to death in your head, right? Don't blame me, though - I'm actually helping you. When you get there, if your face is still this pretty, it'll be way worse than death. As your sister, I'm solving the problem at its root for you."

I stared at her intensely. If looks could kill, she'd have died several times over.

"I found you a great place. When you get there, they'll take good care of you. Who knows, you might even make lots and lots of money there. No need to thank me - after all, Mom and Dad's money isn't meant to be spent on you." She kept talking to herself, but her hand holding the dagger never stopped, her focused expression like she was carving a work of art rather than my face.

Why wouldn't she just die? I'd never hated anyone this much. Wasn't she supposed to be depressed? Didn't she try to kill herself all the time? Why wouldn't she actually go through with it?

Right now, I wish all those illnesses of hers were real, not just tricks to compete with me for everything.

"Emma, your eyes look kind of scary, like you want to eat me alive. Okay then, since you still want to use that pretty face of yours, I'll switch to something else."

She slowly walked behind me and crouched down: "Your hands are really beautiful - worthy of a piano player. Why is your hand bleeding? You almost succeeded - this rope is nearly worn through. Why can't you just behave?"

As she spoke, she stomped hard on my hand holding the glass with her high heel. The glass drove deep into my palm, and the intense pain made everything go black - I nearly passed out.

Her laughter remained bright, like she was showing off a new piece of clothing or jewelry to someone close: "See, I told you God favors me. God won't even give you a chance. So just accept your fate. In this lifetime, you're not even worth one of my toes."

Her voice suddenly turned vicious. She raised her hand and drove the dagger hard through my other palm: "Your hands are so capable, aren't they? Playing piano, writing software - I hate these hands just looking at them. Go to hell."

I could almost hear the sound of flesh being cut open, the knife scraping against bone. The dagger had pierced straight through my palm. The excruciating pain made cold sweat pour down my back.

She gripped the dagger and twisted it viciously. My screams turned to muffled whimpers as I curled into a ball, trembling from the pain. She laughed with delight, holding down my hand as she began to pull the dagger out of my palm.

The intense pain was too much to bear. Everything went black, and I passed out.

"No fun if she's dead. Give me a bottle of water - I'm not done playing yet." Through my daze, I could still hear Sophia's voice.

A bottle of water was poured over my head, bringing my foggy brain back to consciousness. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids wouldn't open.

The knife carved freely across my body. That once bright and sweet voice had turned sinister, like a demon from hell: "You think playing dead will make me let you go? Weren't you so high and mighty? I've ruined your face, I've ruined those hands you were so proud of - let's see you act superior now."

"Ms. Brown, you can't actually kill her. We only do kidnapping, not murder. Dealing with a corpse is too much trouble for us." A voice beside her tried to intervene.

Only then did Sophia stop. She threw the dagger down near my face with a clang, dusted off her hands, and slowly stood up. The sharp tip of her high heel kicked into my ribs, making me curl up again in pain.

"I'm giving her to you. Once she's out of the country, the rest of the money will be transferred immediately." Sophia casually arranged my future.

"Don't worry, Ms. Brown. We'll deliver her to them right away. Once she's in their hands, even God himself would get skinned alive." The man's voice was ruthless.

I was stuffed into a small wooden crate, my body curled up. When the lid closed, the faint light disappeared completely. Outside, they nailed the box shut.

Every part of my body hurts. The slightest movement pulled at every wound, making me gasp.

Where were they taking me? Were they going to sell me?

As the vehicle bounced along, my body slammed against the wooden crate. The burning pain on my face became more and more real - not the pain of knife cuts, but as if my entire face had been peeled off. The pain made my whole body shake.

I couldn't think anymore. I even hoped I would just die like this. Since I was always the one who wasn't loved, wasn't chosen, maybe leaving would be a relief for me, too.

With another jolt, I crashed to one side. My face hit the rough wooden board, like countless needles piercing in at once. The pain stopped my breath. Everything went black, and I finally couldn't hold on anymore. I passed out.