Chapter 11
On the morning of Isabella’s birthday, Benjamin called to deliver a warning. “If you don’t come to apologize to Isabella today, don’t ever bother returning to the Sinclair family again.”
He seemed to have forgotten–11
Set foot in that so–called home for three years.
But I went anyway.
When Nathaniel saw me preparing to leave, his hand instinctively moved to grip the handles of my wheelchair–just like he always had.
This time, I didn’t react. I simply
Bytence.
Meeting my gaze, his fingers slowly loosened their hold.
The new bodyguard took over.
From the moment I left until the car pulled away, I
He stood there, watching my car disappear into the disp
Benjamin wasn’t surprised by my arrival. His lips
speak a single word to him.
curled
a
before he turned away to greet other guests, dismissing me entirely.
Richard stood beside his mistress–turned–wife Victoria and their beloved Isabella, the four of them playing the perfect happy family for their guests. Nathaniel showed up too, arriving just before the Young Master of the Hawthorne family’s extravagant gift was presented. Dressed impeccably, his gaze softened with something dangerously close to tenderness as he watched Isabella unwrap it from across the room.
I looked away after a single glance.
Flushed with triumph, Isabella–resplendent in her haute
couture gown–had
my
one
thing I’d
- me. “See that, Emily?” she purred, eyes glittering with malice. “That was from the Hawthorne family’s Young Master himself.”
caretaker and bodyguard discreetly removed before sauntering over to
Once, she’d been beneath me in every way. Now, she had the rubbing it in.
never taken from her his undivided attention. Of course she couldn’t resist
“You can’t turn a crow into a swan just by dressing it up,‘ Rage twisted her features—until her gaze snagged on the steak knife beside
”
I said flatly. “Some things aren’t meant to be worshipped.”
- us. A slow
vicious smile spread across her face.
I knew exactly what she was going to do.
I didn’t stop her. Didn’t even flinch. Just watched, detached, as she staged her little performance.
“Ah! Emily, what are you–how could you attack me just because you’re jealous?”
The knife clattered at my feet. A thin red line marred her palm.
Every head in the room swiveled toward us.
Richard. Benjamin.
Nathaniel.
Victoria lunged forward, cradling Isabella’s hand as tears sprang to her eyes–yet somehow still managing to shoot me a look of fearful reproach, as if I were the tyrant terrorizing her.
The crowd ate it up. Murmurs of pity rippled through the room for the poor, helpless mother and daughter at the mercy of the vicious Sinclair heiress.
I almost laughed.
The same cheap tricks. The same pathetic acting. And yet, every time, they believed her.
ear
Hawthorne heir’s wrath?”
Ow, or I’ll disown you!”
“Emily, I know you despise me, but Isabella is innocent. How can you keep hurting her like this? Or do you “Emily,” Richard thundered, face purple with fury, “I’ve tolerated your behavior long enough! Apologize to Isabella
truly not th Benjamin’s hands shook with rage. “Emily, have you forgotten my warning? Bring the punishment cane.” Whispers swarmed around me like vultures.
And Nathaniel?
He just stood there. Watching, Waiting for me to reap what I’d sown.
Chapter 11
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“What’s the matter?” I asked softly, sweeping my gaze over each of them–Isabella, Victoria, Richard, Benjamin–before landing on him. “Disappointed I’m not dead yet?”
With a humorless smile, I reached for the bloodied knife.
Of course, my ruined hands couldn’t even grip it properly.
A stunned silence fell as the guests finally registered the obvious. “Wait… didn’t they say Mr. Hawthorne shattered her hands? How could she possibly hold a knife?”
Isabella paled.
Ever the quick thinker, Victoria jumped in. “Emily, stop pretending. Your hands are fine-”
The chorus of accusations swelled–until my caretaker and bodyguard returned.
“You’re right,” I said pleasantly. “I’m not injured at all. So how would you like me to repay dear Isabella?”
The sheer audacity of my agreement left them momentarily speechless.
Ignoring their stunned faces, I instructed my caretaker to strap the knife to my right palm.
Then-
I drove it straight through my left hand.
Blood sprayed. The crowd recoiled.
Fresh crimson bloomed across my bandages as my right wounds split open anew.
“Is this enough?”
The message was clear–I was incapable of harming anyone.
Dead silence.
Richard and Benjamin looked like they’d been struck.
Nathaniel took an aborted step forward–only to freeze when my icy stare pinned him in place.
“Emily’s hands are mutilated,” someone muttered. “If she wanted to hurt Isabella, she wouldn’t have left a scratch.”
“She’s insane–”
“Wouldn’t you be, with a family like that?”
“She’s just scared of Mr. Hawthorne’s retaliation!”
Turning to Nathaniel, I smiled. “Happy now?”
His face went ashen.
Something sharp and needle–thin lanced through my chest–but the pain was dull, distant.
His lips parted.
No words came.
