Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The moment Aunt Helen saw me, she hurried off the sofa, her eyes rimmed with red. "You reckless girl! Do you still remember you have a home? You stayed away for a whole year without even visiting me once!"

A wave of guilt hit me for my bitter thoughts. My voice cracked. "Aunt Helen..."

Wendy stepped up beside her, gently rubbing her back. "The doctor told you not to get overly emotional, Auntie. Did you forget already?"

Wendy turned to me with a sweet smile that hid a cold edge. "Cousin Rory, welcome home."

Aunt Helen gently brushed Wendy aside and pulled me toward the dining room. "Rory, you must be exhausted from your long flight. Sit down and eat."

Wendy did not mind being cut off. She pulled Devon to the table and said warmly, "Yes, Cousin. Aunt Helen cooked this entire spread of savory braised brisket just for you. Don't let her hard work go to waste."

Aunt Helen looked at me with eager anticipation.

I took a deep breath, picked up a piece of meat, and tried desperately to psych myself up. But the second I opened my mouth, a wave of nausea hit me, and I began to dry heave violently.

Aunt Helen asked anxiously, "Isn't this brisket your favorite dish? Why are you gagging? Did my cooking get worse?"

I managed a faint, bitter smile. Her cooking hadn't gotten worse.

The truth was, I hadn't eaten real meat in an entire year.

During my time at the obedience academy, I was never allowed a single bite of meat or a proper, full meal.

Having been deprived of protein and real nourishment for so long, the rich smell triggered an uncontrollable physical rejection.

God knew how desperately I had craved Aunt Helen's home-cooked food.

On those endless nights when hunger drained every ounce of my strength, I survived solely by replaying memories of her meals in my head.

Aunt Helen said with regret, "It must be because I haven't cooked in so long. Don't worry, Rory, I will practice every day and get my touch back."

She added, "Look how skinny you got from studying abroad. You looked much healthier with a bit of weight on you."

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I shook my head nervously. "Aunt Helen, modern beauty standards favor slimness. My weight is perfectly fine now."

Wendy chimed in with a grin. "Auntie, you don't get it. Rory is just watching her figure."

Aunt Helen gave me a mock scowl. "You are skin and bones, and you're still dieting?"

She playfully raised her hand as if to tap my forehead.

In sheer panic, I clamped my hands over my head, dropped to my knees on the floor, and began shaking violently. "Please don't hit me... please..."

Aunt Helen stared at me in absolute shock. She quickly reached down to pull me up. "Rory, what on earth is wrong?"

Only then did my foggy brain register reality. This wasn't the obedience academy.

Aunt Helen wasn't Director Miller.

No one here was going to beat me at a moment's notice.

At the academy, whenever the director raised a hand, a brutal beating was guaranteed to follow.

Electric shocks, needle pricks, freezing filth dumped over my head, and endless starvation were my daily routine.

Their slogan boasted that no matter how rebellious a girl was, they could turn her into a meek, obedient doll within a year.

Clients only cared about the end result.

No one gave a damn about the inhuman horrors used behind closed doors to break a person's spirit.

That blind trust gave the director free rein to torment, abuse, and degrade every single woman sent to him.

I stood up in silence, offering no explanation.

I knew explaining was futile because nobody would believe me.

More than that, I didn't want Aunt Helen, who had barely survived a major illness, to suffer because of me.

Besides, if Director Miller ever found out that I leaked what happened inside, he would strip away my very will to live.

I sat back down at the table, keeping my head bowed like a scolded child.

Aunt Helen looked at me with deep concern. "Rory, you look terribly pale. Why don't you go upstairs and lie down for a bit?"

Forcing a stiff smile, I nodded and quickly rushed up to my room.

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, I bolted into the bathroom and vomited uncontrollably.

A stream of dark blood erupted from my mouth and nose, splashing crimson across the porcelain bowl.

I frantically rinsed my mouth, splashed cold water over my face, and wiped my lips with a paper towel before stumbling out.

Devon was standing in the middle of my bedroom.

He looked slightly awkward as he asked, "Mom told me to check on you. What happened down there?"

I instinctively took several steps backward.

A year ago, Devon had sent me to that living hell specifically to cleanse my forbidden feelings for him.

Because Devon had paid an extravagant sum, the director had put me through specialized torment, personally ensuring I was broken.

On those pitch-black nights, the director had pinned me down, sneering venom into my ear.

"You filthy little tramp. How dare you lust after your own stepbrother?"

"Look at how pathetic you are. You think you're worthy of him?"

"You are nothing more than a chamber pot for men."

Agonizing memories flooded my mind. Gasping for air, I retreated two more steps and replied in a trembling, docile tone, "I have been away at that strict boarding school for too long. I'm just having trouble adjusting to the outside world."

Devon's brow furrowed. He seemed ready to pry further.

Footsteps outside interrupted him.

Wendy pushed the door open and walked in. "Devon, Aunt Helen wants you to come downstairs after checking on Rory. We need to go over the wedding arrangements."

Ever since Wendy had moved into our house, she had constantly clung to Devon.

At first, Devon had treated her with the same icy detachment he showed me.

Before long, though, he grew accustomed to her presence.

He even went out of his way to comfort her whenever she pouted.

Hearing Wendy's voice, Devon immediately softened. He looked at her with warmth.

"I'm coming down right now."

Wendy gave him a playful wink. "Auntie and I will wait for you in the living room."

Devon smiled and nodded. Only after her footsteps faded down the hall did he turn back to me.

After a brief pause, he spoke with icy gravity.

"Wendy and I are getting married soon. Whether you've truly buried your filthy thoughts or not, keep them locked away."

"If my mother or Wendy gets hurt in the slightest because of you..."

My spine snapped straight by sheer reflex. In a loud, trembling voice, I recited the exact lines Director Miller had made me chant every single day:

"I have cleansed myself. I swear I will never dare again."

"A disgusting person like me is not worthy of you. Only a vile wretch would ever covet her stepbrother."

Devon's face twisted into an ugly shade of pale.

Footsteps sounded at the door once more. Wendy stood in the doorway, her face ghostly white as she bit her lip. "Rory, you actually harbored those kinds of feelings for Devon?"

"Even though you aren't related by blood, he is still your brother in the eyes of the law! How could you be so shameless?"

Devon quickly rushed over to steady the swaying Wendy.

"Wendy, don't dirty your ears with this garbage."

He then whipped around, glaring at me with pure venom.

"Rory, you better have purged every last bit of that filth. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to send you back to the academy for another round!"

His words detonated like a bomb inside my skull.

The horrifying memories of girls who were sent back to the academy flashed through my mind. Sheer, paralyzing terror seized my brain and crushed my chest.

I froze on the spot, trembling violently from head to toe.

A warm stream suddenly trickled down my pant leg, pooling onto the clean hardwood floor.

I stared down blankly at my soaked pants, then looked up at the stunned expressions on Devon and Wendy's faces.

I had just lost control of my bladder right in front of them.

The next second, pitch darkness swallowed my vision, and I collapsed into oblivion.