Chapter2

I slowly unclenched my fingers.

The Bluetooth earbud lay in my clammy, sweat-drenched palm, its indicator light still blinking.

"Using my phobia for Livia's amusement." My voice trembled. "Why?"

Adrian looked at the earbud, his expression quickly returning to an eerie calm.

"Because you owe her. She was cyberbullied into severe depression. Even now, she’s too terrified to step out of the house. We're doing this to give you a chance to make amends."

My chest heaved violently, and I screamed until my voice nearly cracked.

"I don't owe her anything! She stole my design! She brought all that backlash upon herself!"

Smack.

Ethan's hand struck my face.

The force snapped my head to the side. My ears rang, and half my face burned as if it were on fire.

He glared at me as if I were a complete stranger. "Are you even my sister? How can you be so cold-blooded?"

I cupped my cheek, my tears finally breaking their dam.

Half a year ago, Livia and I had both entered an international architecture competition.

We both made it to the final round, but the proposals we submitted were nearly identical.

Livia moved first, publicly accusing me of plagiarism.

What she didn't know was that I had screen-recorded my entire process, from the very first rough sketch to the final 3D render.

Once the evidence was released, the committee immediately disqualified her, and a tidal wave of online hate drowned her overnight.

That night, she slit her wrists in the bathtub, leaving behind a suicide note claiming I had driven her to her death.

She was saved.

But from then on, I became the absolute sinner of this family.

Adrian looked at my tear-stained face, his eyes devoid of a single ripple of emotion.

"She made one mistake, and she's already paid more than enough for it. Can't you just let her go?"

Let her go?

For the past six months, I was the one waking up from nightmares every single night.

I was the one whose dignity was trampled to pieces over and over again.

I was the one being recorded, edited into videos, and served up for their entertainment.

Just who was refusing to let whom go?

The last shred of warmth deep in my heart went dead, piece by piece. I was so exhausted that I didn't even have the strength to argue anymore.

I lifted my head, my voice so calm it felt foreign even to me.

"Adrian, we're done."

He froze. His hand twitched upward on instinct, as if to pull me into his embrace just like he had done countless times before.

Ethan clamped a hand firmly onto his shoulder. "Ignore her. She's just putting on a show again."

He scoffed, his tone dripping with absolute certainty. "Every time she cried over the last six months, she threatened to break up. She won't survive two days before she comes crawling back to beg you."

The brief panic in Adrian's eyes slowly faded away.

"Elara, you know I hate being threatened with a breakup. Keep throwing this tantrum, and the wedding next week is off."

Violently biting my bottom lip, I pulled out my phone and dialed the wedding venue right in front of him.

"Hello, this is Elara. The wedding next Saturday is canceled."

Hanging up the call, I looked him dead in the eye. "You don't have to wait. There will never be a wedding."

I turned around and walked away, my tears heavily smashing onto the asphalt one after another.

The old Adrian couldn't stand seeing me cry.

He knew I was terrified of elevators, so he walked up twenty-three flights of stairs with me for two whole years without uttering a single complaint.

When we went to the movies, he always booked the seats right next to the exit for me.

Because I was afraid of the dark, he installed nightlights in every single outlet of my apartment.

Whenever someone called me over-dramatic, he would coldly defend me, then turn around and cup my face in his hands.

"Being afraid isn't your fault. If this world ever makes you feel like you can't breathe, I'll be the door that's always open for you."

I still remembered those words vividly.

Yet tonight, he was the very person who personally locked the deadbolt.

It turned out a person's true heart could change in the blink of an eye.

I hailed a taxi by the side of the road.

But the moment I pulled the door open, the cramped, suffocating shadow of the backseat rushed at me. I released the handle and took a step back.

I walked for four solid hours to get back home from the outskirts of town.

The blisters on my heels were completely torn open, and blood soaked through my socks.

When I pushed the front door open, a wave of central heating and a sweet aroma crashed over me completely.

My father, Victor, walked out of the kitchen holding a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

"You're back? It's freezing outside. Have something hot to warm yourself up."

I froze in place, a sudden, sharp sting prickling my nose.

Ever since my mother passed away, he hadn't made anything for me in years.

I walked over, took the mug, and cradled it in my freezing, stiff hands. Tipping my head back, I took a massive gulp.

The next second, an agonizing, intense spice shot straight up my sinuses.

I choked violently, doubling over in a fit of brutal coughing. Tears and mucus streamed down my face.

Click.

The crisp sound of a camera shutter.

I lifted my head in pure disbelief.