Jack's outburst at the banquet was like a stone tossed into the still waters of Christine's heart.
She began to change. No longer that flawless pianist, she would sit alone late into the night, lost in thought, staring for hours at old photos of us together.
As I followed her, I could feel the sadness and confusion radiating from her—sharp and clear.
Matthew noticed the shift. "Christine, are you still thinking about Jack?" he asked gently, draping a coat over her shoulders. "That scum isn't worth it."
Christine shook her head, her voice soft. "Matthew, I want to go back to the old mansion."
The Jiang Family Mansion: the place we grew up, and the source of all our nightmares. It had stood empty since I was thrown out and Christine went abroad.
Though puzzled, Matthew agreed to accompany her.
Inside, a thick layer of dust coated everything, as if time itself had frozen there.
Christine went straight upstairs and pushed open the door to my old room.
Small and dark, just like my mother, my room was unfit for public view. She moved slowly through the space, her fingers tracing the scratches on the desk, her eyes lingering on the few cheap clothes I hadn't been able to take with me, still hanging in the wardrobe.
Finally, her gaze settled on the nightstand.
There sat an ugly little wooden box, hand-made by my mother.
"What's this?" Matthew asked.
"I don't know," Christine murmured, walking over to pick it up.
She tried to open it, but found it locked.
Floating above them, a wave of panic washed over me. *The key… that key…*
As if remembering, Christine pulled open the nightstand drawer, her hand rummaging in the very back until her fingers closed around something small and rusted.
The key I'd hidden there all those years ago.
With a soft *click*, the box opened.
Inside were no jewels or treasures, just a few scattered items: a worn-out diary, a faded photo of me and my mother, and a small USB drive.
Christine picked up the diary and opened it to the first page.
It was filled with my fragmented thoughts and feelings: my jealousy of her, the suffocating weight of life in the Audrey household, my fear of the future, and… my terror of death.
The last entry was written after I was cast out.
*Today, I pushed Christine away. She must hate me now. Good. Hatred is better than falling into hell. Jack is a monster. I can't let her marry a monster. Father is useless. In this house, the only one who can protect her… is the villain. Me.*
*Little sister, be well. Forget me. Never come back.*
Christine's hands began to tremble. The diary slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.
