Chapter 3
Ever since running into Nathan again, a faint sense of dread had been gnawing at the back of my mind.
I knew exactly where it came from.
I had lived in peace for so long that I almost forgot vipers were still lurking in the grass.
Maybe this was my karma.
Unable to calm the rising anxiety inside me, I wandered aimlessly down the street.
The moment I saw Vanessa Vance, a strange calm washed over me instead.
Vanessa sneered, looking down her nose at me with icy disdain. "I knew you'd be here."
She blocked my path, every bit as arrogant and venomous as she was back in school.
"You really are like a bad rash, aren't you?" Cruelty flashed in her eyes, veiled behind a razor-sharp smile.
I shoved her back hard, staring at her with dead eyes.
Her twisted, furious expression morphed seamlessly into the girl from high school.
I vividly remembered her wearing that exact same face when she used to order other kids to slap me.
"What? Blew through all that money and regret it now?" she spat. "Seeing you play the pure, untouched victim makes me sick. Who are you trying to fool? You just want cash, right? I'll pay you! Take the money and get the hell out of here!"
It was laughable. I let out a dry smirk. "Are you out of your mind? Let's get one thing straight. I've lived in this city for nine years, and I have zero intention of ever moving back."
"Who's really the one clinging on here? Who's the bad rash? Just because you can't get what you want, why does it always have to be my fault?"
"You cheap, greedy gold-digger! Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?!"
I smiled wider. "What can I say, Vanessa? I took the Reynolds family's money, dumped Nathan without looking back, and lived a completely peaceful life for years. Even when I'm this terrible, he still won't give you the time of day, will he?"
She lunged, grabbing my arm, her manicured nails digging deep into my skin.
I didn't bother pulling away. I just lazily shifted my gaze to the space behind her.
She realized something was wrong and whipped her head around.
Nathan was standing right behind her, leash in hand, his face carved from ice.
She gritted her teeth, hissing at me, "You little bitch."
I pried her fingers off my arm, applying just enough force to make her wince and yank her hand back.
"Just you wait, Chloe Miller. You won't be gloating for long."
Leaving that venomous promise hanging in the air, she turned on her heel and stormed off.
I knew exactly what she was planning to do.
She was utterly pathetic, convinced she had found my weak spot.
I used to have one.
I had an older brother.
Before I was born, he was in a brutal car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down, completely bedridden.
Drowning in grief, my parents decided to have a second child.
The idea was to have another son to carry on the family name and take care of the house.
Unfortunately for them, I was born a girl.
Growing up, that house was smothered under an inescapable, suffocating shadow.
People told me that before the accident, my brother had been bright, cheerful, and full of life.
I could never associate those words with him.
To me, he was a raving lunatic.
I never knew when he would suddenly snap, but I knew that whenever he did, I was the one who paid for it.
When he was miserable, I had to watch out for boiling hot tea being thrown at my face.
Most of the time, though, he preferred using a long, slender black cane. The apartment was cramped, leaving me nowhere to hide.
The cane was thin but whiplike; getting struck by it hurt no different than being lashed.
If I just took it, my parents would turn a blind eye and pretend nothing happened. But if I dared to fight back, all three of them would join in beating me.
From the moment I drew breath, my fate was chained to Lucas Miller.
My parents would do anything for him. They had even mapped out my entire future before I hit puberty: I was supposed to become a physical therapist just so I could serve Lucas for the rest of my life.
In that house, I was never treated as a human being.
I was a slave.