Chapter 2

The truck swayed gently as it ate up the miles. I stayed tucked tightly in the corner of the cage.

Throbbing aches shot through my broken arm, my empty stomach twisted with hunger, and my tears eventually ran dry, leaving my eyes raw and stinging.

After an eternity, the truck finally lurched to a halt.

The driver opened the back. Holding a sandwich and a water bottle, he looked at me with pity.

"Hey kid, starving, huh? Here, take this..."

Before he could hand it over, a chilling voice cut through the air. "Who told you to interfere?"

I glanced toward the daylight. Julian stood beside the truck bed, his expression completely blank, but his eyes freezing enough to kill.

He reached out, took the food and water from the driver's hands, and tossed them straight to the mastiff without sparing me a glance.

Watching the beast devour the food, the gnawing pit in my stomach grew unbearable.

I licked my cracked lips. In the corner of my cage sat the dog's water bowl, smelling foul enough to make me gag.

Yet I forced myself to swallow a few sips just to quiet the burning thirst in my throat.

Julian's gaze drifted over me, laden with blatant contempt.

Without another word, he jerked his chin at the driver. The man hurriedly slammed the doors, plunging me back into darkness.

When the truck finally stopped again, the doors opened to reveal a massive estate—far grander than any castle I had ever seen on television. There were fountains, manicured gardens, and rows of uniformed staff lining the driveway.

Julian and Mom walked ahead, Mom carrying the little boy in her arms.

Later, I learned his name was Lucas.

Lucas was beaming, and Mom leaned down to whisper to him, her face radiant with tenderness.

Rough hands dragged me out of the cage, squeezing my bruised arm until I whimpered.

Julian didn't even look in my direction as he ordered a housekeeper:

"Take her down to the basement. Keep her locked away where she won't be an eyesore."

I didn't get a bedroom. I was shoved into a damp, dark corner of the cellar.

Every morning before dawn, I was forced awake to work—scrubbing floors, washing laundry, raking the grounds. If anything was slightly out of place, the staff berated me, and sometimes Mom would walk by.

She never stepped in. She either looked right through me or knitted her brows and snapped at me to get out of her sight before I contaminated the air.

Whatever toy Lucas wanted, Julian had it delivered instantly.

Once, walking past the living room, I saw Mom curled on the sofa with Lucas in her lap. Julian sat beside them, reading aloud from a storybook.

It was a picture of warmth I had never dared dream of, a happiness forever beyond my reach.

Back in the hollows, none of the poor households owned fairy tale books.

Yet the neighbor woman still told bedtime stories to her daughter every single night.

I used to wish so badly that Mom would read me just one story. Just once.

My feet moved on their own again.

I wanted to creep closer. I wanted to hear the soft rhythm of her voice.

Mom seemed to sense something and snapped her head up.

The moment her eyes landed on me, the warm smile vanished, instantly replaced by sheer revulsion, as if she had spotted vermin.

"How dare you come in here? Who gave you permission to enter this room?!"

Startled, I froze, twisting the frayed hem of my shirt with trembling fingers.

Mom strode over and shoved me hard. I slammed into the wall, gasping as pain shot through my ribs.

Lucas ran over right behind her, kicking my shin with all his might. Tears welled up instantly.

"Stay away from my mom!"

He cursed at me, kicking me again and again.

Mom stood watching, without the slightest intention of stopping him. She only frowned and said,

"Lucas, don't touch her. You'll get dirty. Come on, Mommy will help you wash your hands."

I curled onto the floor, clutching my throbbing leg as hot tears dripped onto the polished wood.