Chapter 2

Roman shoved me into the cramped storage room.

The door slammed shut.

The light was snuffed out. Darkness collapsed on me. Suffocation tightened its grip around my throat.

Nightmares from the underground clinic flooded my brain.

To test human limits under extreme terror, they had once buried me alive.

They tied me up and kicked me into a pit. Shovel after shovel of heavy dirt smashed into my face and body.

Mud crammed into my nose and throat.

My lungs felt shredded. In the absolute dark, I felt the soil devour my body heat. I was suffocating, unable to even let out a scream.

Claustrophobia had choked me ever since. The moment I plunged into a pitch-black space, the sensation of impending death tore me apart.

"Open the door! Please, Roman!"

I threw myself against the door, clawing at the wood. I scratched until the nails on all ten fingers peeled back and snapped off.

I screamed until my voice fractured into hoarse gasps.

An hour later, the door was pulled open.

Light pierced my eyes. Roman stood in the doorway, looking down at me. "Are you done playing the victim?"

I scrambled forward, grabbing his pant leg. "Don't lock me in again... I'll die..."

"Cut the act." He kicked my hand away.

"For those six years, I personally selected and oversaw every drug trial. It was just to temper your attitude. It was never going to kill you."

A ringing erupted in my ears.

My cracked lips trembled, the taste of blood in my throat. "You... arranged it all?"

Extracting bone marrow without anesthesia. Vomiting black blood from drug rejection. Being injected with conflicting toxins, convulsing in ice until I shattered my own molars... All at the hands of my own brother?

Roman showed no guilt. "If I hadn't made you experience real pain so you'd learn empathy, what right would you have to return to this family?"

Killian stepped out.

"You will attend Virginia's charity gala tonight. Clarify in public that you stole her identity, then bear a child for her, and I will give you the wedding of the century."

The wedding of the century.

The vow that once kept me holding on was now bait to bleed out my last drop of worth.

A sharp cramp in my heart reminded me of the final diagnosis—this broken body could only hold out for ten more days.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth, shoving down my despair. I forced a smile.

"Okay."

...

Three hours later, at the charity gala.

The moment I stepped inside, dozens of microphones and cameras were shoved in my face like gun barrels.

Virginia came up, looped her arm through mine, and shoved a piece of paper into my palm.

"Read it," she whispered, maintaining her flawless smile.

I glanced at the fabricated words:

I was never abducted. I ended up in the slums because of my drug addiction.

Virginia is the true bloodline. I stole her identity for wealth.

Driven by jealousy, I slandered her, and today I beg for her forgiveness.

I clenched my fist and, right in front of the cameras, tore the paper to shreds.

"Why should I admit to things I never did?"

"Wasn't stealing my identity for twenty years enough? Now you're playing the victim while stealing my husband and son!"

After a second of dead silence, the media boiled over. Flashbulbs went off like machine-gun fire.

Virginia's eyes welled up. Biting her lip in feigned grievance, she whipped a document out of her clutch.

"Sister, why would you slander me?" She squeezed out a tear for the cameras. "I am Killian's legal wife."

Killian stepped forward, wrapping his arm around Virginia.

"We've finalized the marriage. You stole her life. It's only fair that Virginia becomes the mother of this child."

Roman moved to block Virginia from my view.

"Apologies, press. Octavia suffered brain damage from drug abuse. She has severe paranoia. These are just the ravings of a psychiatric patient."

Junkie. Psycho.

The gazes of the elites shifted. They covered their noses, looking at me like I was rotting meat.

"Don't bully my mom!"

A small figure burst out from the crowd.

Lucas raised the toy model in his hands and smashed it into my face.

The sharp edges ripped my cheek. Warm blood dripped from my browbone to the floor.

One look was all it took to recognize him.

The child I had bled out on the operating table for. The one I risked my life to birth.

I trembled, reaching out to him. "Lucas... I'm your..."

Before my fingers could touch him, a hand seized my shoulder.

Roman locked my arm and yanked me backward, physically cutting me off from Lucas.

A phone screen was shoved in my face.

It played a video from the underground clinic—when I was forced to test aphrodisiacs, pinned to the filthy floor, assaulted by a group of men.

"Say another word, and I'll put this on the main screen," Roman sneered. "If Lucas sees that you're just a filthy piece of trash meant for men to use, wouldn't he be sick to his stomach?"