Amelia didn't move.
Elyse's eyes slowly hardened. "Not moving?"
Amelia's numb gaze slowly focused. She said hoarsely, "I will... get a divorce. And I'll leave... here."
"Of course you'll get a divorce! And of course you'll leave! What, do you still think you're the Rollins family's precious daughter? That anyone will protect you? Dream on. You're nothing but a dog at my feet. And when I tell you to sleep in the doghouse, you sleep in the doghouse."
Such insults no longer stirred any emotion in Amelia.
At the rehabilitation center, she had heard far worse.
Seeing no reaction, Elyse felt a flicker of frustration. She leaned in close and whispered,
"How did you like the taste of men?"
Amelia's head shot up, her face pale. "You..."
"I told the director, you know. I said you were a slut who couldn't go a day without a man. That they needed to keep you satisfied. Make sure you got pregnant over and over. Miscarry over and over. Hee hee hee."
Her already numb heart clenched.
During those four years, night after night, what she had feared most wasn't the daily torture or the electric shocks. It was the lock on her door being forced open at nightfall.
The outwardly respectable director. The strong, burly orderlies. They were everywhere.
To avoid being violated, she had made herself vomit until her entire body was covered in filth-destroying her esophagus and giving her severe stomach problems.
Some orderlies didn't care about the vomit. When they tried to tear off her clothes anyway, she had bitten off part of her tongue, nearly dying.
Afraid she would actually die, they had given her emergency treatment and saved her life. But she was left with a stutter.
After that, they didn't dare use force on her.
But that didn't stop their cruelty. They started drugging her with the strongest aphrodisiacs.
A nurse at the center, who felt sorry for her, secretly gave her a drug that prolonged her periods-at the cost of damaging her body.
She had taken it for four years. The result: she could never have children.
All because of Elyse. Because of a few casual words from her.
She had destroyed Amelia's entire life.
Rage surged back. Amelia couldn't stop shaking. Her face was bloodless.
And the more she shook, the more excited Elyse became, fanning the flames. "You were never clean anyway. What's a few more times? You're just a worn-out whore who's been ridden by a thousand men."
The fragile wall Amelia had built crumbled again.
"You... should die!"
Amelia raised her hand to slap Elyse.
"Stop!"
Before she could even touch Elyse's hair, someone grabbed her wrist and shoved her hard.
She fell onto the gravel path, scraping her palms. Tiny stones embedded themselves in her flesh. She gasped in pain.
"Amelia! What are you doing?"
A familiar voice.
Amelia slowly looked up. One word rolled out of her mouth, slowly. "Spencer."
The person who had arrived was Spencer Rollins, the eldest son of the Rollins family-the brother who had once doted on her.
The only one who had still been kind to her when her true identity was exposed.
Unfortunately, when Elliot sent her to Westcliff, Spencer had been abroad for further studies. He couldn't save her.
Now, seeing her brother, Amelia felt like she had found a lifeline. She struggled to her feet and reached for his hand, just like when they were children. "Spencer, you're... back. I... I..."
Before she could touch his hand, he pulled away.
She grabbed nothing. She stood there, stunned.
Spencer looked anxiously at Elyse. "Elyse, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Elyse's eyes reddened. She shook her head pitifully. "I'm fine, Spencer. Don't worry. Sister didn't mean it."
Spencer turned to Amelia, frowning deeply. "If I hadn't arrived just now, what were you going to do? Hit her? Is this how you were raised?"
Each question hit her like a hammer.
She looked at her brother's disappointed eyes, then at the protective way he held Elyse. She understood.
Four years had passed. Her brother was no longer her brother.
The Spencer who had once said, "Even if we're not blood-related, Amelia will always be my sister," existed only in the past.
Her parents, the man she loved, the brother she respected-they were all on the other side now.
She stood there swaying, unable to stop coughing.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough-"
Once it started, it wouldn't stop.
Her face grew whiter and whiter.
Spencer's expression tightened. He instinctively moved to steady her.
"Ah! I'm so dizzy! Spencer, I feel terrible!"
Elyse cried out in pain and swayed, then closed her eyes and collapsed.
"Elyse!"
Spencer scooped Elyse into his arms and hurried outside. "Don't be scared. I'll take you to the hospital."
He brushed past Amelia without looking back.
If he had looked back-just once-he would have seen the drops of blood on the ground and her nearly translucent face.
But he didn't.
Amelia coughed until she doubled over. A large mouthful of thick, dark red blood pooled in her palm.
She stared at it blankly.
She might not live another three months.
But she couldn't die yet. There were things she had to do. She couldn't die now.
She wanted to live.
That day, the entire Rollins family went to the hospital to be with Elyse.
When they had brought Elyse home four years ago, they discovered she had a congenital heart defect. Because she had missed the optimal treatment window, it would never be cured.
She couldn't exercise strenuously. She suffered from intermittent chest pain and shortness of breath. And there was always the risk that an attack could kill her.
That made the Rollins family feel even more guilty.
Mrs. Rollins held her daughter's hand, her eyes red, and sobbed, "It's all our fault. If you hadn't been switched at birth, Elyse would be healthy. This wouldn't have happened."
Mr. Rollins looked at Spencer. "Your sister's condition..."
Spencer shook his head silently. "All we can do is manage it with medication. We need to keep her emotions stable. Nothing that might stress her heart."
Spencer was a surgeon with an excellent record-and Elyse's primary physician.
That was why he knew how serious her condition was. And his guilt grew every day.
Elyse chose that moment to wake up. She said weakly, "Dad, Mom, Spencer... I'm sorry for worrying you."
Mrs. Rollins' heart ached even more. "Silly child, don't say that. It's our fault you suffered."
Mr. Rollins said sternly, "Amelia has gone too far! She actually tried to hit someone! No, she can't stay in this house. Send her back to the rehabilitation center immediately."
Elyse's heart jumped. Back? No, she couldn't go back now. The divorce wasn't final yet.
"Dad, sister didn't mean it. And she just got home. You can't kick her out. She'll be heartbroken."
Mr. Rollins sighed. "Even now, you're still defending her? You're too kind-hearted."
"Sister has had a hard life. If I hadn't come back, she wouldn't be so miserable. It's only natural she hates me. I'm sick, and I'm a burden to you and Mom."
Mrs. Rollins hugged her tightly. Whatever sympathy she might have felt for the daughter she had raised for twenty years vanished.
"This isn't your fault. She owes you. You're the one who's sick, and she's perfectly healthy. How dare she hurt you? She's the one in the wrong."
Elyse hid a contemptuous smile behind her mother's shoulder. Her heart condition really was the perfect weapon. She loved it.
How else could she have turned Spencer to her side?
What she wanted was for Amelia to be utterly alone-abandoned by everyone.
