Late that night, the woman’s passionate cries pierced the silence—sharp and unmistakable, even through the wall. Just on the other side, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Even though I had long since given up on Anthony, the sound grated on my nerves. My head throbbed as if it were splitting open; my stomach churned with acid. In the end, I had no choice but to ask the housekeeper to call the family doctor.
“What are you making a fuss about now?” Anthony kicked the door open with a heavy thud, dismissed the doctor, and strode inside.
I was so dizzy the ceiling seemed to spin. Opening my eyes only made me nauseous, so I kept them shut and said nothing.
Fresh from the shower, he carried the familiar scent of his body wash as he climbed onto my bed uninvited, seeking the curve of my neck to kiss.
I pushed him away with all my strength. “Don’t touch me.”
He dismissed it as a tantrum. Gripping my chin forcefully, his voice turned cool and detached. “Weren’t you the one trying to get my attention just now?”
My voice was weak but insistent. “Anthony, I’m not making a scene. I really don’t care about you and Grace. But I will never be the other woman.”
His dark gaze swept over me, laced with sarcasm. “Jessica, spare me the false nobility. Being the mistress—isn’t that in your blood?”
Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. Trembling uncontrollably, I felt a fury so deep it stole my breath.
I had never imagined he would say such a thing to me.
Then again, he was right. I was, after all, the child of a mistress.
When I was four, my birth mother passed away, and I was brought back to the Jessica family.
As an illegitimate daughter, I spent my first years there in fear. Whenever “Mother” saw me, she would curse and rush over to hit me—sometimes pinching, sometimes slapping, occasionally using a stick. Before I turned eight, my skin was marked with blue and purple bruises every single day.
Survival taught me cunning. Knowing she hated the dog in the yard, I hid in the doghouse all day, treating the big black dog inside as my mother, eating and sleeping with it.
Perhaps I began to smell too much of the doghouse and dirt. “Mother” grew disgusted and gradually stopped coming to beat me.
Later, Grandfather brought Anthony and his mother back from abroad.
The first time I saw Anthony, he was the golden, precious young master of the Jessica family—the genius new son Grandfather praised to everyone.
I stared at him dumbly, even forgetting to fight Midnight for food. Young as I was, I already understood what it meant to feel inferior. So, thinking myself clever, I dropped to the ground and snarled like a dog, trying to scare him away.
Anthony, who had just turned ten, wasn’t frightened. He simply tilted his head, putting on a grown-up air, and asked curiously, “So you’re my little niece?”
For me, he became the first real light.
He said he was my little uncle and that he would take care of me forever.
From then on, I moved into a pink, luxurious princess room and wore all sorts of beautiful dresses. Anything I wanted, without my having to say a word, he would present to me with both hands.
He was my protector. Under his shelter, I finally lived like a princess.
Tears slid into the corners of my lips, bitterness spreading in my mouth. I bit down hard. “It’s been almost seven years, Anthony. I’ve paid my debt.”
Even if I had once been forced to whip him, to humiliate him like a dog, he had repaid me a hundredfold over these years.
Anthony paused, his grip on my chin still domineering. “You’re dreaming, Jessica. When this ends is for me to decide.”
He wiped my tears away and sighed softly. “Just be good. I’ll consider treating you better.”
I closed my eyes in despair.
I knew the truth. If I had revealed how I had betrayed him back then—and the evidence to prove it—I wouldn’t have had to endure this torment for so many years.
But I still carried six lives on my conscience. The reason I lived was to atone.
