Chapter 4

Half asleep and half awake, I heard Tristan confirming the emergency treatment plan with the doctor.

I also heard him make a phone call to the academy.

With obvious anxiety, he demanded, "Why has she become like this? What exactly did you do to her?"

The voice on the other end was polite yet cautious.

"Mr. Kingsley, this is normal. All of Mrs. Kingsley's current behaviors might be an act. After all, just last month, she was still saying she wanted to kill Miss Parker..."

I heard Tristan's breathing hitch. I felt wronged.

If this was all an act, then I'd be quite the impressive actress.

The next evening, I was out of danger and Tristan took me back home.

Due to the allergies and long-term malnutrition, I'd become extremely thin. The red welts on my neck still hadn't faded. I must have looked quite pathetic.

I'd just entered the living room when Andy ran over.

He stared at the wounds on my neck, extending his chubby little hand to point at them. "Lady, does it hurt?"

I looked at his innocent eyes and shook my head. "It doesn't hurt."

At the academy, I'd had injuries a hundred times more painful, and I still had to smile and say they didn't hurt.

Andy took the opportunity to burrow into my arms, his warm little face pressed against my ear.

"I know who you are." His voice was so soft that only I could hear it. "After you came back, Mommy became very unhappy. Last night she even cried while holding me."

"You're like those evil mistresses in TV shows, trying to steal Daddy from my mommy. Why don't you just die?"

"If you died, Daddy would belong only to Mommy."

I froze, feeling something like a tiny needle prick my heart.

Not sharp, but lingering.

Before I could react, Andy suddenly hugged my waist tightly and threw his body backward.

We tumbled down the stairs together.

In that moment of weightlessness, I instinctively held him in my arms, using my body as his cushion.

When my body hit the floor, I felt like every bone in my body had shattered.

"Susie, what are you doing!"

An angry shout came from upstairs. It was Tristan.

He rushed downstairs, pushed aside my injured body, and carefully picked up Andy from the floor.

Andy burst into tears, trembling as he burrowed into Tristan's arms.

"Daddy, that lady pushed me! She said she hates me and Mommy!"

Tristan's movements stopped.

He slowly turned to look at me, his eyes filled with the familiar disappointment and disgust.

I tried to stand up using the floor for support, my back drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

"I didn't..."

"Shut up!"

He stood up, looking down at me. "Andy is only four years old. Would he lie?"

"I thought you'd reformed over these years. Turns out it was all an act. Do you want to go back to the academy again?"

I froze, my body trembling uncontrollably.

Those mocking voices, the pain of being stripped naked and made to crawl like a dog—it all seemed to resurface.

"No, don't send me back."

I immediately dropped to my knees, pressing my head deep against the floor, begging him.

"Don't send me back there. It was my fault. I pushed him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

If he said it was my fault, then it was. Five years had been enough to teach me how to apologize.

As long as I admitted my mistakes, the punishment would always be lighter.

Tristan remained silent for a long time—so long I thought I'd be dragged back and locked in that windowless isolation room again.

Finally, he only said, "Lock her in the basement. Let her reflect properly. For the next three days, no one is allowed to let her out!"