Chapter 6

Yolanda’s face twisted at my words, her pride taking a direct hit. Without warning, she raised her foot and kicked my wheelchair.

“What’s a cripple like you so smug about? Dad and Mom erased all the evidence for me. No matter how arrogant you act, you can’t touch me!”

Seething, she shoved me forward again, her grip tightening like a vice. A slow, eerie smile curled her lips as we neared the pool’s edge.

“Let me show you who they truly care about.”

Before I could react, she pushed my wheelchair with a sharp jolt.

The world tilted.

An instant later, ice-cold water swallowed me whole. The sharp chill surged into my lungs, burning my skin. My limbs flailed uselessly as the weight of the chair dragged me down.

“Wife!”

“Daughter!”

Joseph and my parents’ frantic shouts cut through the chaos. Water splashed violently as Joseph swam toward me.

I reached out, desperate to grasp onto something—someone.

But just as I thought he was coming for me, he bypassed me without hesitation.

His hands found Yolanda instead, pulling her into his arms.

On the edge of the pool, my parents leaned forward, their hands outstretched—not for me, but for her.

A bitter smile curved my lips as my hand fell away, my body sinking deeper into the abyss.

Just as darkness threatened to pull me under, Joseph’s hands yanked me back to the surface.

Coughing, gasping for air, I collapsed onto the ground, water pooling beneath me.

Beside me, frantic voices filled the night.

“Yolanda, wake up! Wake up!” My parents’ anxious cries rang out, thick with desperation.

A soft gasp broke through the commotion. Yolanda’s lashes fluttered, and with a feeble voice, she murmured, “She… she suddenly sped up her wheelchair. I tried to save her, but… I got pulled in with her…”

Whispers rippled through the crowd like an uneasy tide.

“I heard her foster sister shattered her legs on her birthday five years ago… Could the memories have been too much? Did she try to end it all?”

Joseph’s gaze flickered, a fleeting trace of guilt flashing across his face.

My father’s expression twisted into something that almost looked like regret.

My mother, sobbing, threw herself at me, clutching my drenched sleeves.

“Daughter, why would you do something so foolish? We’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives!”

I looked at them, my lips curling into a cold, humorless smile.

Not long ago, all their worry had been for Yolanda. But now, under the scrutiny of the guests, they put on this grand performance—one dripping with feigned concern.

Bitter resentment coiled in my chest.

Truly, what a spectacle.

How laughable.

Before leaving, Yolanda cast me a triumphant glance, her smirk brimming with satisfaction.

My birthday banquet had turned into a complete disaster.

In the end, my oh-so-loving family escorted me straight to the hospital.

When the doctor declared I was fine, a sigh of relief filled the room.

Moments later, my phone buzzed. Another message from Yolanda.

[Did you see? He saved me first.]

[Even your parents called out for me as their daughter. If you still don’t get it, you’re truly pathetic.]

[Their love for me runs deeper than it ever did for you. After all, I was the one who lived with them the longest.]

[So tell me, who’s the real fool here?]

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I took my time saving every single message, taking screenshots one by one.

That night, my family dropped me home—only to rush straight to Yolanda’s villa to care for her.

Alone in the study, I printed out the chat logs, preserving every last word. Then, I transferred the recorded hospital conversation onto a USB drive.

A final parting gift.

By morning, not a single one of them had returned.

Joseph had sent a message saying that he and his parents were out purchasing mourning items and had asked the butler to look after me.

I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone.

So that was how much I mattered.

I let out a cold laugh and summoned the butler, instructing him to pack up and discard everything Joseph had ever given me.

With that, I turned and headed toward the study.

My fingers hovered over the portrait my father had painted of me. Without hesitation, I ripped it from the wall and hurled it into the fire.

A portrait of just me—that was all he had ever given me.

A portrait of their family—that was what he had given Yolanda.

From the moment I set foot in this house, I was destined to be alone. He didn’t love me, yet he wouldn’t let me leave. He broke my legs and kept me imprisoned in this castle, trapped in solitude.

The irony burned hotter than the flames before me.

Overcome with rage, I grabbed the scarf and leg warmers my mother had once knitted for me and threw them into the fire. Next came every family photo taken over the past decade.

One by one, the memories turned to ash.

If I was leaving, I wouldn’t leave a single trace of myself behind in this house.

As I watched the fire consume everything, my resolve hardened.

I stepped out into the cold night and made my way to the lawyer’s office, handing over a folder of printed documents. I entrusted him with the evidence and instructed him to file a lawsuit against Yolanda first thing in the morning.

Even if I couldn’t have her sentenced, I wanted the world to know she was alive and that my family had been shielding her all along.

Once that was done, I logged into my social media accounts. I uploaded the photos and audio files, carefully editing them before scheduling their release to a select audience.

Finally, I replied to Yolanda’s last message.

[Do you think I can make them abandon you and come back to me?]

She took the bait instantly.

[You think too highly of yourself. They’d never leave me. Just wait and see.]

A cold smile curled on my lips as my phone buzzed right on time.

My parents’ voices poured through the receiver, dripping with insincere warmth. “Fiona, there’s an emergency at the Blue Moon Pack. We’ve got a lot to handle and need to stay at the Pack house overnight. Don’t wait up for us.”

Exactly as I had anticipated.

After hanging up, I sent the final piece of evidence to the doctor they had hired—the last loose end tied up.

Clutching my plane ticket, I turned my back on the house I had lived in for the past ten years and disappeared into the night.

The next morning, at the grand ribbon-cutting ceremony for Yolanda’s Training Ground, chaos erupted.

A frantic call from the doctor shattered my father’s carefully composed demeanor.

“Alpha Grayson! This is bad! Miss Fiona has uncovered the truth about the accident five years ago… She heard everything we said in the hospital that day!”