Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the middle of the night, unbearable stomach cramps tore through me, and I tossed and turned in pure agony.

It felt like I had slipped right back into my previous life.

Every single night, I would curl into a ball and stare into the dark until dawn.

There was nothing in my room, so I dragged my dehydrated body downstairs in search of water.

In the living room, I ran straight into my second brother, Jesse.

Jesse was a professional esports player, so staying up until two or three in the morning was normal for him.

He noticed me immediately.

He gave me a cold, disgusted glare.

Jesse was the quietest member of the Mercer family.

In the six months since Haven returned, he had never given her a decent look.

I brushed past him, knowing that my mere existence probably annoyed him.

Hunched over in pain, I shuffled toward the kitchen.

What I didn't realize was that my state had terrified Jesse.

Under the dim night light of the living room, he saw it all clearly.

Cold sweat drenched my forehead, and my lips were completely drained of color.

Aside from the inflamed red burn mark across my cheek, the rest of my face was ghostly pale.

I was long accustomed to looking like a corpse from chronic illness, so I paid it no mind.

I leaned heavily against the kitchen sink to catch my breath, but a wave of nausea surged up, bringing blood with it.

"Ugh."

I gagged painfully, tears blurring my vision from the strain.

Footsteps echoed by the kitchen door―Jesse had followed me in.

I hastily turned on the faucet to wash the blood down the drain, cupping tap water in my hands to rinse my mouth and swallow a few mouthfuls.

Jesse's deep voice broke the silence behind me. "If you want water, drink warm water. Cold water will upset your stomach."

I gave a faint hum and kept my head low, trying to skirt past him.

Haven barely exchanged words with this brother, and I had no interest in getting tangled up with this family.

Suddenly, Jesse grabbed my wrist tightly.

I turned my head toward him and asked in a raspy voice, "Second Brother, is something wrong?"

Up close, Jesse got an even clearer view of the raw burn on my face.

He fell quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing tightly. "Why didn't you put ointment on that burn?"

I caught the impatience in his expression.

He probably assumed this was just another cheap trick to beg for attention.

I pulled my wrist out of his grip and nodded vaguely. "Yeah. I'm going back up."

Once I stepped away, Jesse flipped on the main light and walked toward the sink with knitted brows.

Although the water had washed most of it away, his sharp eyes still caught something alarming.

Faint traces of crimson were swirling down the metallic drain.

The next morning, I bumped into Tristan at the bottom of the stairs.

Haven's third brother was the one harboring the deepest hatred toward her.

He and Gemma were close in age, sharing the strongest bond.

Perhaps he was simply too young and foolish, knowing only that the sister he doted on for sixteen years was suddenly displaced by a stranger.

To him, this newly found sister was trying to steal everything from Gemma.

He vented all his frustration and spite onto his biological sister.

He blamed her for shattering their picture-perfect life.

He had no idea that Haven was the most innocent victim of all.

Tristan noticed the glaring burn on my face, and his gaze flickered with guilt.

He deliberately stayed silent, waiting for me to greet him first.

Instead, I walked right past him without sparing him a single glance.

Mr. Mercer snapped from the table, "You're a grown girl! Don't you know how to treat a minor burn yourself? Going outside looking like that is an embarrassment!"

Mr. Mercer was a traditional patriarch who prioritized business status over family bonds.

His only concern was that my pathetic appearance would ruin his prestigious reputation.

After all, Haven had only been back for six months, possessed no refined talents, had terrible grades, and offered zero value to him.

Mrs. Mercer wore the exact same disapproving look.

I sneered inwardly.

If this had happened to Gemma, they would have rushed her to the emergency room in an ambulance within seconds.

Yet last night, not a single person bothered to ask if my skin was blistered.

No one cared if I went to bed starving after barely taking a bite of dinner.

Their favoritism truly had no limits.