Chapter 6

My chest constricted painfully.

Then something cold cascaded over my head. Strong liquor soaked straight through my clothing, streaming down my face, my neck, over every inch of me.

**

The music cut off so abruptly it felt like something had snapped in half. One moment it was loud and chaotic, and the next, dead silence descended. Every face in the room turned toward me—not shocked, not confused, simply watching, as though anticipating something entertaining.

"You honestly believed you'd walk away after what you did?" someone laughed. "Iris, I had no idea you were capable of such cruelty."

"First Grandfather, now Mirasol," another voice chimed in. "What's next? Poisoning Jimmy too so you can keep him tethered to you forever?"

I didn't respond. I simply looked at him. Jimmy stood there, his face drained pale from exhaustion, yet his eyes remained sharp and cold as blades. "I've already told you," I said, my voice heavy with fatigue. "I never hurt Grandfather. And I never touched Mirasol." Even I recognized how weak that sounded. What proof did I actually have? The cameras were disabled, witnesses had been paid off, and he'd already convicted me in his own mind.

"I swear it," I forced out, "I never stabbed you. If I'm lying, may I suffer the worst death imaginable." I paused, then fixed my gaze on her directly. "But you, Mirasol—can you swear the same thing? Can you swear you didn't orchestrate all of this yourself?"

"Enough!" Jimmy cut me off sharply, stepping in front of her as though shielding her from something contaminated. "Iris, even now you refuse to confess? You still believe yourself innocent?" His voice dropped even colder. "Fine. Don't blame me for whatever follows. You brought this entirely on yourself."

Hands seized me before I could react. My knees hit the floor hard, pain shooting straight up my legs. I fought against them, panic surging. "Let go of me... what are you doing..." but no one paid any attention. Jimmy picked up a whip and approached me slowly, as though this outcome had already been decided long before tonight.

"Frightened?" he asked quietly. "Did you ever once consider how desperate Grandfather must have felt as he fell? Or how terrified Mirasol was while you attacked her?"

"I never—"

The whip struck.

Pain detonated across my back, stealing my breath entirely. My body jerked violently, a broken sound tearing from my throat.

"Speak," he said, his voice climbing. "Admit what you did."

"I... won't..." My voice shook uncontrollably. "I won't admit to it..."

He laughed, anger bleeding into the sound now. "Still denying it? You think silence erases what happened? Iris, you're guilty of sin, and you deserve exactly this."

Another strike followed. Then another. The sound echoed through the room, mingling with quiet laughter around me. The pain grew so consuming I could barely think, yet something inside me refused to break. I began laughing myself, without even understanding why, tears streaming down at the same time.

"I never did anything wrong," I said, my voice hoarse yet unyielding. "Why would I confess to something I didn't do?" I looked at him, my chest aching. "The single greatest mistake of my life was ever meeting you. Jimmy... you're the most repulsive person I have ever known."

His expression darkened at once.

"And you," I turned toward Mirasol, my voice turning colder still, "what exactly are you performing here? Who do you think you are? Without him, you're nothing at all."

"Iris," she frowned, her voice quivering, "don't speak about him that way. You have no right to—"

"Be quiet," I snapped. "You think you're superior to me? You're every bit as pathetic."

The whip came down harder this time.

"Be quiet!" Jimmy roared, entirely past the point of restraint.

"This strike is for Grandfather," he said coldly as the whip cracked again.

"This one is for what you did to Mirasol."

"This one is to remind you exactly who you are. Never imagine you belong beside me."

The blows continued, one following another, until I lost all count. Every strike felt as though it tore through my skin and reached something deeper I couldn't shield. A metallic taste flooded my throat and I coughed, blood spilling from my lips. My vision blurred, the whole world spinning around me.

So this was how it ended, then?

Was this truly it?

My body finally gave out, and darkness claimed everything.

**

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a hospital room. The television played on a loop, replaying footage of me being whipped. Every groan, every sound of pain I'd made had been transformed into entertainment for their amusement.

My back remained raw, blood mingling with spilled liquor, and I felt like nothing more than a discarded heap left in some forgotten corner. The bar owner had discovered me barely clinging to consciousness and dragged me out. I couldn't even manage to cry. Nothing would come.

The door creaked open slowly and Mirasol stepped inside. She looked perfectly well, cheeks flushed with color, as though nothing whatsoever had happened to her. "Those two weeks you spent in the hospital," I said bitterly, "you faked the whole thing, didn't you?"

"And so what if I did?" she said, tossing a plastic bag onto my bed. "As long as I appear pitiful enough, Jimmy will do absolutely anything for me. Soon enough I'll stand at his side exactly where I belong." I caught the bag and froze instantly. Inside sat my father's urn. My hands trembled as I opened it.

Empty. Completely, utterly empty.

"What... what did you do? Where is my father?" I shouted.

Mirasol merely smiled, savoring the expression on my face. "Ashes serve no purpose. Why waste good land burying them? Better that wild dogs make use of them instead." She shrugged carelessly. "Oh, and I may have suggested halting your father's treatment at the hospital. Such a waste of resources, really."

My heart stopped cold. "You... you let him die?"

She waved her hand dismissively, as though the matter were trivial. "Understand this—I can make Jimmy do absolutely anything I want. Do you honestly believe you're anywhere near my level?" Then she raised her left hand. The ring caught the light, glinting cruelly. My blood turned to ice. It was the very ring Jimmy had purchased at auction for five hundred million, six months prior. Everyone had assumed a wedding was imminent that day, but Jimmy had insisted I wasn't worthy of it.

Mirasol laughed. "Jimmy says I deserve everything rare and precious this world has to offer. Including him. Including her, apparently. Only I'm truly deserving."

Something in me snapped completely. I lunged at her, my hands closing around her throat. "You killed my father! You deserve to die for it!" My voice shook with rage, pure hatred boiling over. Mirasol's smug expression never wavered.

Crack. A vase shattered against my skull. Hot blood streamed down my face. Jimmy shoved me backward and struck me hard across the face. "Have you completely lost your mind?!" he shouted. My chest throbbed with pain, but I was long past caring about that. I seized a broken shard from the shattered vase, ready to strike Mirasol in blind, consuming fury.

"You killed my father! You deserve to die!" I screamed.

Jimmy caught my wrist before I could act. Then his eyes landed on the urn still clutched in my other hand. His eyes widened in genuine shock. "What is this? Your father..."