"My deepest apologies, Sir, Miss. I'll have this trash removed immediately," the manager stammered, bowing low. "Your meal is on the house. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do."
Eliana didn't look at him. Her gaze locked onto mine, malicious excitement lighting her eyes.
"We don't need your charity," she sneered. "But since this filth ruined my shoes, she can clean them. On her knees. With her tongue."
The manager stiffened but didn't dare object.
Noah stepped forward—to onlookers, a concerned gentleman intervening in a dispute. I knew the monster beneath the mask.
"Miss Sanchez is right," he said, smooth as velvet. "A mess requires proper cleanup."
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, forcing my head down to Eliana's heels. Pain radiated across my scalp as he bent close, breath hot against my ear.
"Refuse," he whispered, "and I'll drag you to the basement and train you right here in front of everyone."
Trembling, I leaned forward and opened my mouth.
Metallic tang of blood and dirt coated my tongue.
Eliana watched with sadistic glee. When the heel was clean enough, she pulled away as if granting mercy, then threw herself into her parents' arms.
"Daddy, Mommy, I missed you so much!" Her voice transformed into a sweet, spoiled whine. "Studying abroad was exhausting. Promise you'll stay home and pamper me."
Tears blurred my vision.
Hudson told me she was suffering, I thought. Working herself to the bone to pay off the family's debts.
My adoptive parents called me a curse. A jinx who destroyed everything. The Sanchez family's ruin was my fault. I had to work harder. Make more money. Bring Eliana back so my brother could see our home whole again—even if I had to sell every part of myself.
Security dragged me out. Passersby stared—some with disgust, others with pity. A few whispered for the guards to be gentle, but no one stepped in.
Noah followed at a leisurely pace. The moment we cleared the crowd, the gentleman act dropped. He shoved me into his car.
Back in that suffocating basement, he forced my head under the faucet, scrubbing blood from my mouth with rough strokes.
"I love breaking things that try so hard to survive," he sneered, water dripping from his chin. "Your brother, your parents—they play you for a fool, and you thank them. You bleed yourself dry for a lie." He met my eyes in the mirror. "Is the game fun, Harper?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
After a night of torment, he dressed me like a doll and dumped me at the psychiatric hospital.
The guard frowned as I approached. "Harper, you look terrible. You can't keep working yourself to death."
I nodded and walked to Hudson's ward.
My brother was pacing in striped pajamas. Calm—until he saw my reflection in the window. The "madness" took over instantly.
He lunged, fingers digging into my arms, pinching and biting.
"Jinx! Curse! Get out!" he screamed.
I stood there and took it.
Minutes later, the storm passed. He collapsed, weeping, clutching my hands.
"Harper... I'm so sorry," he sobbed. "Don't bother with me anymore. I'm just a burden. Leave me to die."
I watched him, heart aching. I didn't see the performance. The manipulation. Only my broken brother.
"Don't apologize, Hudson," I said softly. "I've saved enough. You can get treatment now. Soon Eliana will come back. We'll be a family again."
He reached for the bank card I offered. His fingers brushed the raw wound on the back of my hand—a souvenir from last night—and froze.
"Harper," he whispered. "Your hand..."
