Chapter 4

Seraphina's POV

I was forced onto my knees in the basement.

The basement had no heating, making it as cold as a meat locker in the winter. The blood seeping from the cuts on my back had already soaked through my thin shirt, clinging sticky and cold to my skin.

Father stood by the door, a heavy leather belt gripped in his hand.

"Who gave you permission to barge into that room?" Father's harsh voice echoed in the cavernous space. "Were you purposely trying to ruin Natalie's reputation?!"

I kept my head down, offering no answer.

Mother stood beside him, her gaze dripping with venomous disappointment. "You actually tried to throw yourself at Ethan? What an ungrateful little snake."

"I asked you a question!" Father lashed out, the belt cracking through the air with a vicious whistle. "What the hell were you trying to pull?!"

My body jerked violently.

The leather struck my spine with brutal force, a searing burn tearing through my skin and digging straight into the bone. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled, forcing myself not to make a sound.

"Speak!" Another crack.

I remained kneeling, fresh blood running down my back and pooling onto the concrete floor.

"I didn't barge in," I finally spoke, my voice raspy and hollow. "Natalie told me to bring her water."

"Liar!" Mother screeched. "Why would Natalie ever ask you to walk into her room?! Stop trying to smear dirt on your sister!"

I closed my mouth and stayed silent.

It was utterly pointless. I had known that for years.

In this house, Natalie was always the angel, and I was always the sinner. Even if I laid the raw truth before their eyes, they would choose to blind themselves. Believing me meant admitting that they were monsters who had spent over twenty years tormenting their own daughter.

They would never admit that.

So I didn't need to explain anything.

Father whipped me a few more times. Seeing that I wouldn't scream or beg, he grew bored. He tossed the belt to the ground and turned to Mother. "Leave her here until morning. No food, no water."

Mother nodded, casting one final glance at me. There was no pity in her eyes, no maternal instinct—only the cold detachment one felt when throwing away a piece of trash.

"Reflect on what you've done," Mother muttered coldly. "You don't get up until you've learned your place."

The heavy metal door slammed shut, cutting off the light.

I curled slightly in the dark, the cuts on my back throbbing with fire. I remembered being locked down here and beaten when I was five because I had taken a tiny bite of Natalie's cake. Back then, my small knees had pressed into the freezing tiles, tears streaming endlessly down my face.

I had stopped crying since.

Crying never made anyone care anyway.

I huddled into a tighter ball, my shredded back scraping against the floor, the spike of pain nearly causing me to pass out.

Drifting in the shadows, my mind wandered back to the past.

Back to the rubble of the earthquake.

I was fifteen that year, dragged along on a family vacation. Then the ground tore open. I was buried under tons of concrete for three full days and nights.

Nobody came looking for me.

I had screamed until my vocal cords shredded, but silence was my only reply. I had cried until my tears burned into my open wounds, praying for death. But I couldn't die. I wanted to live.

Just when I was on the brink of giving up, I heard a faint whimper through the cracked wall beside me.

Summoning every ounce of strength left in my broken body, I crawled through jagged rebar and crushed bricks until I finally spotted the trapped boy.

It was Ethan.

A heavy concrete beam had pinned his leg, blood coating his pale face as he mumbled incoherently. I leaned in close and caught his breathless whisper: "Please... somebody save me... I don't want to die..."

I didn't hesitate.

I had no idea who he was. I only knew that if I didn't move that beam, he was going to die right in front of me.

I smashed at the debris with rocks, wedged wooden planks as levers, and pushed with everything I had. For three agonizing hours, my skin ripped open, my fingernails split down to the quick, and my forearms turned into a mangled mess of blood and bruises.

Finally, I dragged him free.

And then, blackness swallowed me.

When I woke up, I was in a clean hospital bed. Natalie was already by the bedside of a handsome boy in a wheelchair, chatting with his wealthy parents.

Natalie beamed, pointing at him: "This is the boy I saved. His name is Ethan Hayes."

My parents stood nearby, smiles plastered all over their faces.

Ethan Hayes. I knew the name—the sole heir to the Hayes empire.

Later, when I was discharged and ran into Ethan, I couldn't wait to tell him the truth.

Ethan had frowned, looking at me with pure disdain: "What are you talking about? Natalie was the one who pulled me out."

I had frozen completely.

"It was really me," I pleaded frantically. "Ethan, think back! In the dark, right before you passed out, didn't you see me? I was wearing a blue T-shirt, my hair tied in a ponytail—"

"Shut up," Ethan snapped, cutting me off coldly. "I thought you were quiet and honest, Seraphina. I didn't think you were such a shameless liar. Natalie saved my life, and you're trying to steal her credit?"

I tried to explain every tiny detail of that night, but Ethan refused to listen to a single syllable.

Over the years, I tried to tell him the truth dozens of times. Each time, Ethan grew crueler and more disgusted. The last time, he simply had his security guards drag me off the Hayes estate and throw me into the street.

I had begged: "Ethan, please, just look into it. Just investigate what happened that day—"

Ethan had sneered: "I don't need to look into anything. Show your face in front of me again, and I'll call the cops."

After that day, I never tried to explain again.

The basement grew colder. Huddled in the dirt, my consciousness began to drift.

Suddenly, the heavy door groaned open.

A tall figure stood in the entryway, backlit by the hall light, his features obscured.

Squinting through swollen eyes, I watched the shadow advance. As he stepped closer, I finally recognized him.

It was Ethan.

He held something in his hand, walking with brisk, impatient strides until he loomed directly over me.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the object at my face.

It bounced off my chest and fluttered to the floor beside my bloody knees.

I glanced down.

An invitation card.

An engagement invitation for Ethan Hayes and Natalie Vance. Set for the eighteenth of next month.

Ethan stood tall, looking down at me like I was vermin. The light behind him cast his sharp face into deep shadows, masking whatever emotion he held.

"Natalie and I are getting engaged next month," he said, his tone biting and icy. "Look at it and give up your pathetic delusions once and for all."

I stared at the gilded card for a long time.

Then, slowly, I tilted my head back and looked at Ethan's face.

He had matured so much compared to ten years ago. He was no longer that helpless, dying boy trapped beneath the earth; he was the untouchable heir of the Hayes family, Natalie's devoted fiancé, the most enviable bachelor in the city.

Yet he felt completely alien to me.

The boy I had known had fire in his heart and light in his eyes. Before slipping into darkness, he had gripped my bleeding fingers and sworn, "I will find you," promising to remember my voice forever.

Where was that promise now?

"Are you deaf?" Ethan snapped, his brows furrowing with disgust. "I told you to give up."

I tore my eyes away from him, looking back down at the card.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice as faint as a falling leaf. "I hope you two are... very happy."

Ethan froze, visibly thrown off by my calmness.

"Stop acting so pure and innocent," he scoffed, turning on his heel and marching out into the hall.

I knelt alone in the suffocating dark, the pain across my back turning into a dull, throbbing numbness. I reached out, picked up the invitation, and held it close to my face.

The embossed gold lettering gleamed faintly in the sliver of light:

Ethan Hayes & Natalie Vance

Engagement Gala

I folded the heavy card carefully and slipped it into my pocket.

Then, I lowered my head until my forehead pressed against the freezing concrete, shutting my eyes tight.

It was fine.

Very soon, I would never have to kneel here again.

I would never have to swallow these insults, or live walking on eggshells around these monsters.

Because I was leaving.

Leaving this family, leaving this city, and leaving Ethan far behind.

A quote I read long ago echoed in my mind: Some people don't deserve your tears, and the one who truly does would never bear to see you cry.

Ethan.

You will never know who truly pulled you out of the jaws of death.

You will never know who clawed through concrete and rebar for three hours, ripping her fingers to the bone, just so your heart could keep beating.

You will never know that the girl you despised, mocked, and trampled on for a decade once loved you more than her own life.

And now, I don't love you at all.

The corners of my lips curved into a faint, ghost-like smile.

Outside, the storm had finally passed.

A pale sliver of dawn bled through the small ground-level grate.

Morning was coming.