Chapter 2

Three years later, he finally came to pick me up. I sat in the backseat of the car. Christian’s expression was as cold as ever.

Hailey sat in the passenger seat, wearing a beige cashmere coat, her curled hair styled to perfection.

I looked down at my own faded, dusty jacket. The cuffs were frayed and threadbare.

"What are you staring at?" Christian’s voice cut through the silence.

Hailey turned and smiled at me. "Chloe, you’re back. You’ve gotten so thin."

"All those inappropriate thoughts of yours," Christian said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. He paused. "Have they been thoroughly beaten out of you?"

The first lesson Ridgeview Academy taught me was that when it hurts, you endure it. If you endure it long enough, you stop feeling it altogether.

"Yes, they are gone," I whispered.

I saw his jawline tighten for a fraction of a second before it relaxed.

Hailey leaned back in her seat. "I told you, Christian. Ridgeview works wonders. Look how obedient Chloe is now."

*Obedient.* The instructors at Ridgeview loved that word too.

They would pinch my chin, forcing my face up, and ask, *Are you going to be obedient now?*

I would scream, *Yes, yes, I’ll be good!* They would laugh, saying it wasn’t enough, before forcing more of their "medicine" down my throat.

The car pulled into the Pierce estate. The roses in the garden were still there, but they were withered, their stems drooping lifelessly.

Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, was waiting at the door. "Oh, Miss Chloe..."

Her lips trembled. I simply nodded at her.

I stood in the hallway for a moment, hearing footsteps behind me.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Hailey walked over, her voice dripping with sweet apology.

"Christian said your old room had the best natural light, so he let me convert it into my walk-in closet. Your things... I had Mrs. Gable move them to the guest room. You don't mind, right?"

I turned around. "I don’t mind."

Christian stood at the top of the stairs, watching us. He didn’t say a word.

At dinner, the table was piled with exquisite dishes. Christian was peeling shrimp, meticulously placing them one by one into Hailey’s bowl.

"That’s enough, Christian. I can’t eat all of this," Hailey giggled, her voice soft and airy.

"Eat more," he murmured.

When I was a child, I once ran a fever of 103 degrees. I was delirious. Christian held me in his arms, not closing his eyes for a single second all night.

When I cried because the medicine was too bitter, he would coax me, saying, *Be a good girl, Chloe. Drink it, and I’ll buy you all the candy you want.*

I had sobbed, clinging to his neck, *I don’t want candy. I only want you to stay with me forever.* He had smiled and whispered, *Okay, I’ll stay with you for the rest of my life.*

"Chloe, try this," Hailey said, placing a piece of fish into my bowl.

My fork paused for a second. Then, I picked it up and shoved it into my mouth. Even when the boiling heat blistered my tongue, I didn’t stop chewing.

"Eat slower," Christian frowned, staring intently at my bowl.

"Poor thing. The food at Ridgeview must have been dreadful," Hailey added, putting a piece of chicken onto my plate. "Eat up. You need to gain some weight."

I chewed and swallowed mechanically, like a robot performing a task.

Christian set his fork down. "There's no need to eat like you're starving."

After dinner, I went back to my room, opened my phone, and booked a one-way ticket to a small town in the south—a place I had never heard of.

Christian stood at my doorway, holding a glass of warm milk.

"Drink this," he commanded.

The instructors at Ridgeview also loved delivering "milk" at night.

Once you drank it, you fell asleep. And when you woke up, your body would be covered in new wounds. Sometimes needle marks, sometimes dark purple bruises, along with a swollen lip and bleeding thighs.

My knees went weak. Out of pure instinct, I dropped to the floor, my forehead pressing flat against the cold hardwood.

"I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! Please don’t make me drink it... please, I beg you, don’t make me drink it..."

The room was deathly quiet, so quiet that I could hear my own frantic heartbeat.

Christian stood frozen, still holding the glass.

The icy mask on his face cracked for a split second, revealing something raw, before freezing over again.

"You..." His throat bobbed. "Get up."

He took a step forward. I screamed and scrambled backward until my spine slammed against the bedpost.

He set the glass on the nightstand. The milk sloshed over the rim, spilling onto the dark wood.