Chapter 3

The police didn't take me away in the end. Arthur had a sudden attack of mercy at the eleventh hour and dropped the charges.

It wasn't because he believed my innocence, though. It was strictly because the headline "Eldest Vane Daughter Arrested" would completely tank the company's IPO next month.

After the police left, Arthur looked at me as if I were a rotting pile of garbage.

"Since you enjoy playing the kleptomaniac and throwing psychotic fits, there is no longer a place for you in this house," Arthur declared from the sofa, handing down my sentence with aristocratic detachment. "I've already contacted the Genesis Reformation Camp in the Nevada desert. They specialize in rehabilitating morally bankrupt, psychologically twisted degenerates like you. A transport team will be here for you first thing in the morning."

The Genesis Reformation Camp. The infamous hellhole whispered about in elite circles. Rumor had it human rights didn't exist out there—only endless corporal punishment, solitary confinement, and psychological destruction. Anyone who went in came out either dead or permanently broken.

"Dad... please don't send me there. I'll die... my condition can't handle that kind of..." I was on my knees, my voice so hoarse it barely sounded human.

"Better you die out there than stay here and humiliate us!" Eleanor scoffed coldly, grabbing Arthur's arm and turning toward the stairs. "Lock her in the basement tonight. Make sure she doesn't try to run."

The heavy basement door locked with a resounding click. I collapsed onto the concrete floor, entirely drained of the energy to even cry. I was swallowed by pitch blackness, the silence broken only by the monotonous, rattling drone of the ventilation fan.

I don't know how much time passed before the deadbolt ground open.

A sliver of light bled into the room.

Harper stepped in gracefully, wearing silk pajamas and swirling a glass of red wine. She shut the door behind her. Every trace of her sweet innocence had vanished, replaced by a spine-chilling, sociopathic apathy.

"Is the floor cold, Sister?" she murmured, walking over and grinding her heel directly into my scraped knee.

I swallowed my cry of pain and forced myself to look up at her. "Why? You already have everything... Why do you keep doing this to me?"

Harper let out a soft, amused scoff. She crouched down, leaning in until her lips brushed my ear. "Because you're an eyesore. We're twins, so why did you get to be born two minutes earlier? Why did Grandmother leave that necklace to you in her will? As long as you're breathing, I'll always feel like there's a stain on my otherwise perfect life."

She took a sip of her wine, her eyes venomous. "Of course I slipped the necklace into your bag. Just like I was the one who framed you for stealing the class funds in middle school. I put the dead rat in your locker in high school. And your antidepressants being swapped out for vitamins? That was all me, too."

My pupils shrank. The scandals that got me ostracized by the whole school, the absolute disgust from our parents—the invisible hand that had been systematically pushing me into the abyss... It was her. All of it.

"If I were you, I'd just kill myself," Harper whispered. "But don't worry, the Reformation Camp will take excellent care of you. I specifically asked Dad to instruct the drill instructors to give you... special attention."

She gave a disgusted sneer before turning on her heel and leaving.

I thought I would go insane. I thought I would scream hysterically. But I didn't.

Strangely enough, in that exact moment, the terror and desperate struggle that had shadowed me my entire life simply vanished, as if the air had been sucked out of a vacuum.

What replaced it was a bone-deep, icy numbness.

The darkness blurred the boundaries of time.

A few hours later, the basement door was violently rammed open. Three burly men in black tactical uniforms strode in.

They didn't waste a single word. A canvas black bag was instantly shoved over my head, and rough hemp rope bit brutally into my wrists as they bound my hands tight.

"Let me go... I'm not going!" It was my last, primal instinct kicking in.

They dragged me out of the basement and across the living room floor like a dead dog.

Thrashing wildly, I caught a glimpse of Arthur and Eleanor through the mesh of the thick fabric. They stood completely motionless, watching me get brutally restrained with zero empathy in their eyes.

"Mom! Dad! Help me!" I let out a wretched, blood-curdling scream.

"Gag her. She's too loud." Eleanor frowned, turning to one of the maids. "Go check if Harper is awake. Make sure this noise isn't ruining her sleep."

A foul, moldy rag was forcefully crammed into my mouth. I was casually tossed into the trunk of an unmarked van.

The moment the heavy doors slammed shut, absolute darkness swallowed me whole.

I stopped fighting. Curling up in the bumpy, suffocatingly hot trunk, I listened to the faint, steady rhythm of my own heartbeat.

Fine.

If you gave me this shell of a body, I'll surrender it to the hell you designed for me. Any hope I had for family dies right here.