Chapter 2

Linnea's POV

When I pushed open the door to my mother’s house, I felt hollowed out.

The living room was dark. Still wearing that black velvet gown, I sank into the sofa, shivering. The cat scratch on my neck throbbed, aggravated by my cold sweat. Rosalind’s look of utter revulsion was seared into my brain.

My phone buzzed frantically. Coralie’s name flashed on the screen.

"Oh my god, Linnea, where are you?!" the moment I answered, her panicked, tearful voice pierced my ear. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you okay?"

"I'm at my mom's," my voice was razor-thin. "Coralie, Rosalind is in the hospital. She publicly disowned me and had me thrown out... I have no idea what happened."

"Calm down and listen to me," she panted heavily. "I was out on the terrace taking a call, and my heel got stuck. By the time I ran barefoot to the hall, the ambulance had already taken Rosalind away, and you were gone. What is going on?"

"I don't know," I covered my face, my fingers slick with cold sweat. "She suddenly called me ruthless and disgusting. But I didn't do anything."

"There must be a misunderstanding. Someone is setting you up." Coralie’s tone darkened, full of protective loyalty. "Dorian is flying back soon, and the engagement party is this weekend. You have to hold it together. I’ll look into Rosalind's end and get to the bottom of this. Right now, you just need to take care of yourself."

She paused, her tone turning strict. "That ointment I gave you—are you still applying it on schedule? If that neck wound isn't disinfected, a scar is the least of your worries. An infection would be terrible."

"I... I haven't gotten around to it."

"Do it now. Right now," she raised her voice. "It doesn’t matter what people misunderstand. You’re marrying Dorian in a few days. You need to be the most beautiful bride."

I touched the throbbing wound on my neck, my heart softening. "I know."

After hanging up, I squeezed a thick layer of the pale, viscous green cream and rubbed it into the burning, broken skin.

I stayed awake until dawn, unable to find a single reason for Rosalind’s sudden turn against me.

The next morning, exhausted, I walked to the kitchen island to brew some coffee. The steam from the machine puffed against my face, making the wound on my neck burn again. Swallowing my morning rhinitis meds with hot water, I casually touched up another layer of the cream on my neck.

The front door opened. My stepfather, Gerald, walked in from his morning jog, panting, his forehead slick with sweat.

"Hey, kiddo," he walked over to pour himself some ice water, glancing at me. "You look terrible. Didn't sleep?"

I forced a smile, not wanting to bring the outside drama home. "Just some work stress. It's nothing."

"You've got bags under your eyes. Don't push yourself too hard. If the sky falls, your mom and I will hold it up." Gerald smiled warmly. Leaning across the counter, less than a foot away, he gently patted my back like the father figure he was.

"Gerald, honey, done running?"

My mother, Adrienne’s lazy voice drifted down the stairs. Wearing a silk robe and tying her belt, she walked down smiling, holding sample engagement invitations. She was in a fantastic mood, looking at me with the absolute pride of a mother about to marry off her daughter.

"Let me look at my beautiful bride-to-be," she opened her arms and walked toward me.

I stepped forward to meet her, smiling.

But the moment her nose neared my neck, her smile collapsed like it had been splashed with acid. Her nostrils twitched. Her eyes frantically darted between me and my sweaty stepfather.

In less than a second, her shock ignited into a roaring inferno.

A slap—even harder than Chloe's last night—slammed into my face.

The force knocked me back two steps. My lower back hit the marble counter, and my coffee mug shattered on the floor, splashing brown liquid everywhere.

"Adrienne! What are you doing?!" Gerald yelled, rushing to help me.

"Don't touch her!" my mother shrieked like a cornered lioness, pointing at him. Then she whipped her head back to me, her eyes glaring with enough hatred to shred me alive. "You disgust me! You cheap, filthy slut!"

I clutched my swelling cheek, my ears ringing, my brain entirely short-circuiting.

"Mom... are you crazy? Why did you hit me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Why? You have the nerve to ask me why?!" She grabbed a fruit bowl from the counter and hurled it at me. "You shameless bitch! How could you?! How did I give birth to something like you?!"

"Mom, tell me what happened!" I broke down, trying to grab her hand.

"Shut up! Don't call me mom! You don't deserve to be my daughter!"

She violently threw off my hand and pointed at the front door, screaming, "Get out! Get out of this house right now! Take your sickening tricks and leave! I never want to see you again!"