Chapter 3

Elena's POV

Nora blinked, thrown off. "What do you mean?"

I bent down, scooped up the shirt, and brushed off the nonexistent dust, my tone eerily calm:

"You said your sister was Julian’s childhood sweetheart and that they were the same age, right? Julian is thirty-two this year. I was eleven when he brought me into this house, which means he was twenty-two at the time. So, if your sister had been alive, she would have been in her twenties when I moved in."

I tossed the shirt into the suitcase, lifting my eyes to meet Nora’s, my gaze dripping with mockery. "He went to a foster home to find an eleven-year-old kid to act as a substitute for a grown woman in her twenties? Nora, if you’re going to invent lies to disgust me, at least use your brain. Do you take Julian for a predator, or do you just think he's completely insane?"

Nora’s face turned instantly ashen, the corners of her carefully painted lips twitching violently.

With her lie blown wide open on the spot, shame turned into outright rage. She glared at me maliciously. "You little bitch, you really think Julian will take your side?!"

I had no interest in wasting another breath on her. Zipping up my backpack, I brushed past her shoulder to head for the door.

The exact second we crossed paths, Nora snapped her hand out, grabbing my wrist with a iron grip.

I frowned, about to shake her off, when I caught the bizarre, manic glint of pure malice in her eyes.

Before I could react, Nora took my trapped hand, swung it through the air with force, and then—

*Slap!*

A crisp, resounding slap echoed through the room.

Using my hand, Nora had struck herself violently across the face!

She put so much momentum into it that she staggered sideways, tumbling directly onto the carpet.

I froze, my hand still hanging stiffly in midair.

Almost at the exact same moment, hurried footsteps rushed down the hallway.

Radiating pure fury, Julian barged into the room. His eyes immediately caught Nora collapsed on the floor, followed by me standing there, frozen in the posture of someone who had just struck her.

"Julian..." Nora cupped her rapidly swelling cheek, a faint trail of blood trickling from the corner of her lip.

Tears cascaded down her face like a broken dam, her voice sounding utterly pathetic. "I just wanted to apologize to Elena... I know my moving in made her unhappy... but she—she didn't say a single word, she just hit me..."

Julian’s face darkened instantly. He strode forward, his sharp glare slicing across me like daggers.

"Elena, have you lost your mind?!" Julian’s roar shook the room, thick with profound disappointment and explosive rage.

I didn't flinch. Slowly, I pulled my hand back, looking down at my palm.

It was completely clean. There were no red marks, no stinging sensation from an impact, because I hadn't used an ounce of force. The entire scene was nothing but her own scripted performance.

I lifted my head, staring directly into Julian’s eyes, my voice flat: "If I told you she grabbed my hand and slapped herself, would you believe me?"

Julian had already crouched down to help Nora up. He didn't even bother lifting his eyes to look at me, offering only a cold, rigid back and a ruthless reply: "Do you honestly think I would believe that?"

I stood in the center of the bedroom.

I watched Julian lift Nora into his arms with delicate care. I watched Nora lean against his chest, casting a triumphant, mocking smirk back over his shoulder straight at me.

My hand still hung limply at my side.

Slowly, I curled my fingers together, forming a tight fist.

My palm was empty. There was nothing inside.

Just like these past fifteen years. I had thought I was holding onto the light, but in the end, it was nothing more than an illusion.

"Right," I murmured, pulling my lips into a pale, bitter smile. "After all, she’s the one you want to protect."

Julian carried Nora away, his voice echoing down the hall as he immediately called for the private family doctor.

I walked over and shut the bedroom door.

Leaning against the cold wood, I slid down to the floor once more. This time, I didn't even feel the ache in my chest. I just kept my head down, staring blankly at the empty hand that held nothing.

That night, at one in the morning, I opened my laptop. On the electronic *Overseas Core Race Engineer Transfer Agreement* sitting in my inbox, I typed my digital signature. Send.