Chapter 2

In the middle of the night, my phone ringing sliced through the dead silence.

I jolted awake. The moment I answered the call, my blood ran cold.

The hospital had issued a critical condition notice. My brother, Ethan, had a severe lung infection and wouldn't make it through the night. The bone marrow transplant had to be done immediately, and the exorbitant surgery fee was also due by the deadline.

And the successfully matched donor and the life-saving money were all in Julian's hands.

I didn't bother to put on shoes, stumbling into the master bedroom.

Julian leaned against the leather headboard, carelessly swirling half a glass of red wine. Seeing my disheveled state, a sneering curve tugged at his lips.

He already knew.

"Please, save Ethan." I dropped to my knees on the cold floor.

Julian looked down at me from above, as if I were a dog.

He put down his wine glass and got out of bed barefoot. His large hand suddenly gripped my long hair, dragging me out without mercy.

A tearing pain ripped through my scalp. Biting my lip hard, I stumbled and crawled on the floor, shielding my head with my hands.

At the end of the corridor was a giant glass conservatory.

Outside, the rain poured down, thunder roared. The conservatory had no heating; it was cold as an ice cellar.

Julian suddenly flung his hand, slamming me hard onto the white tiles.

He walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out several bottles of fine red wine.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bottle after bottle exploded around my feet. Dark red wine splattered, and sharp glass shards covered the floor.

Julian grabbed a large bunch of red roses from the flower bucket. He tore off the petals with his bare hands, then violently threw the thorny stems into the scattered glass shards.

He took off his silk robe, tossing it onto the back of a chair. He then sank into the velvet sofa, crossing his legs, his gaze sinister.

"You want money? You want the bone marrow?" He pointed at the wreckage, a mix of glass and thorns. "Show me your sincerity. Dance for me, right on that. Dance until I'm satisfied."

I stared at the execution ground before me, a place that could cripple my feet.

The chip in my left ring finger sensed my heart rate soaring, releasing a bone-chilling microcurrent.

I didn't hesitate, didn't beg.

I slowly stood up, my bare feet stepping without hesitation into that dark red wreckage.

My first step landed.

Sharp glass instantly pierced the soles of my feet. Blood welled up.

I spasmed from the pain, biting down hard, forcing back a cry of agony.

I slowly raised my arms, striking a classical dance opening pose. Lightning flashed, its pallid light illuminating my bloodless face.

Second step. Third step.

The glass shards dug deeper and deeper, firmly embedded in my flesh. Rose thorns savagely cut my ankles, tearing open my skin.

I began to spin.

Every jump, every landing, was a heart-piercing, bone-chilling pain. Cold sweat drenched my nightgown, clinging to my back.

Red wine and blood mixed together, dragging out shocking crimson trails on the pure white tiles.

I was like a crimson butterfly with broken wings, forced to dance on knife-edges.

Julian leaned back on the sofa, staring intently at me.

Watching my pained, enduring face, watching my movements, still submissive despite the pain and spasms.

The brutality and excitement in his eyes peaked. His breathing grew shallow, his gaze feverish like a madman's.

This was what he wanted.

He wanted this proud golden canary to be completely crushed, her soul forced to grovel at his feet.

Ten minutes, stretched out like a century.

The soles of my feet were raw and bleeding, deep enough to see the bone.

After completing the final spin, I finally couldn't hold on, collapsing heavily into the shattered glass. Shards dug into my knees and palms, bleeding profusely.

I gasped for breath, struggling to look up. My eyes were broken, submissive, gazing up at the man on the sofa.

Julian was finally satisfied.

He stood up and walked closer. His leather shoes squelched sickeningly on the blood and wine.

He bent down, stroking my sweat-drenched face as if caressing a beloved pet.

"Such a good girl."

He dialed Mr. Davis, his assistant. Instructing him to transfer funds to the hospital. To have the donor ready overseas, on standby.

After hanging up, Julian scooped me up from the floor into his arms.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, knowing full well, his voice resuming that chilling tenderness.

I leaned against him, my nails digging hard into my palms, suppressing the urge to tear him apart.

I forced out a fragmented smile: "No, it doesn't. Thank you, Julian."

Julian chuckled softly, then carried me swiftly out of the conservatory.

I lay on his shoulder, looking back over his neck.

On the white tiles, there were countless bloody footprints.

The searing pain in my feet and knees pulsed through me. I closed my eyes, hiding the monstrous killing intent within.

From beginning to end, I hadn't shed a single tear.

I finally understood.

As long as Julian lived, my brother and I would always be lambs to the slaughter.

Julian had to die!

I would flay this madman alive with my own hands, send him to hell!