The year I hated Vernon Browett with every fiber of my being was when he brutally killed the dog I had raised for ten years… just to please his little secretary.

And in return, I plunged a knife into her body five times, savoring the sound of her frantic screams like I was admiring a masterpiece.

Everyone thought Vernon would kill me for it.

But instead, he only threw a divorce agreement in my face, coldly saying, “You’re nothing more than a dog in this family. Since you’ve gone mad, get lost!”

That night, I disappeared from his world.

Five years later, I had to attend a party on behalf of my dad. And that was when, once again, I saw Vernon’s secretary.

Wine splashed across my gown as she sneered, “Well, well… look who it is. Turns out it’s just the dog the Browetts threw away.”

Consequently, I grabbed the nearest champagne bottle and smashed it over her head.

“Five years have passed, and no one’s taught you how to act like a human being? Fine. Tonight, I’ll be your teacher.”

——

Her scream pierced the air.

Her little entourage rushed forward to shield her, shouting in my face.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“Do you even know who you just hit?!”

The loudest of them jabbed a finger at me.

“She’s the future fiancée of the Browett Corporation’s heir! You’ve just written your own obituary! Vernon will never let you off!”

Another one blocked my path with a mocking laugh.

“Now this I gotta see—someone stupid enough to hurt Vernon’s queen, of all people. Don’t you know? That guy worships her! If a hair falls from her head, he’ll burn the city to the ground. And you? You smashed her head open!”

Clutching her bleeding forehead, Joanie glared at me like she wanted to rip me apart.

“Listen to me, Keyshia. Five years ago, I let you go out of the kindness of my heart. Don’t think that means I’ll be afraid of you now. You’re nothing more than the dog Vernon sheltered! Five years ago, I could have killed you. Five years later, you have the nerve to show your face to me, and I still can kill you!”

I studied her, taking in the changes time had brought.

I had to admit—Vernon had treated her well.

Back then, she couldn’t even lift her eyes when she called me Ma’am Keyshia. Now, she could publicly threaten to destroy me.

Too bad for her, I’ve never been someone easy to crush.

Not five years ago.

Not now.

A circle of people surrounded me, but instead of shrinking back, I bent down. The floor glittered with shards of broken glass.

Under everyone’s stunned gaze, I picked up a bloodied piece, smiling as I rose.

“Joanie.”

Step by step, I advanced toward her.

“Five years ago,” I said, lifting the bloodstained knife in my hand, “I gave you more dignity than you ever deserved.”

Her eyes widened as I dragged the sharp edge down from her cheek to her belly.

“What happened?” My voice was calm, almost teasing. “You still haven’t learned your lesson, even after you lost your uterus back then?”

“Well then…” A cruel smile curved my lips. Before anyone could react, I raised the shard and drove it toward her belly.

But before the glass could pierce her flesh, a strong hand seized my wrist.

Gasps and shrieks erupted around me. And over it all, Joanie’s trembling voice broke through, choked with tears.

“Vernon… I’m scared!”

Those were the same words from five years ago.

Back then, I pinned her to the ground and drove the knife into her again and again. She’d looked at me with the same wide and terrified eyes, crying out the same words.

“Vernon… I’m scared!”

Time folded in on itself.

And then, from just behind me, a voice I had not heard in years cut into the chaos. It was low, threatening, and achingly familiar.

“Keyshia. It’s been five years.”

His tone dripped with menace.

“What, you still haven’t learned your lesson?”

His grip twisted my wrist outward, pain flaring up my arm. My brows furrowed, but unlike five years ago, I didn’t lower my head in defeat. I didn’t surrender.

The sting only awakened something wild inside me.

I clutched the shard tighter, letting it cut deep into my palm. Blood trickled down my wrist.

And at the exact moment he tried to wrench it away from me, I whipped my head around and smiled at him.

“It’s been a long time, Vernon.”

The shattered glass pierced deep into his arm, blood splattering across the floor until my vision blurred red.

Just like that, the party erupted into complete chaos.

Screams rang out around me. Some shouted for security, others whispered in gossip.

“Who is that woman? Does she wanna die? Dang, she actually dared stab the Browetts’ heir!”

“I just heard Joanie say… five years ago—wasn’t there an orphan Vernon kicked out? His wife on paper? Damn, don’t tell me it’s her!”

“Nah, she doesn’t look like the wife…”

“They say that woman had no family at all, except for a dog. But the dog offended Joanie and ended up being tortured the whole night! Everyone in our circle saw the video—that poor dog’s skin was even ripped off!”

“Wait, look! Vernon… He’s smiling!”

Seeing blood continue to drip down Vernon’s arm, Joanie frantically shouted, “Vernon!”

Ignoring the bleeding gash on her own forehead, she rushed forward like a madwoman and threw herself in front of him, shielding him from me as though I were a wild animal.

“Keyshia!” she shouted furiously. “How dare you hurt Vernon! The Browetts raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay them? Like an ungrateful wolf? You owe Vernon an apology right now!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The way she spoke to me—arrogant, self-righteous, as though she were already Vernon’s wife—was almost comical.

I turned my gaze back to Vernon.

“Five years,” I said, my voice low but steady. “And in that time, you’ve raised yourself a loyal little dog willing to bare her teeth for you. Tell me, Vernon, does that make you feel pretty satisfied?”

Joanie’s face was drained of color, and Vernon pulled her behind him, just as he had done five years ago.

“Keyshia,” he said coldly, “what was between us ended a long time ago. I’ve already told you—I only love Joanie. I will never love you, and I will never even like you.”

His almond eyes bored into mine as he continued, his voice sharp with disdain.

“I don’t care how you’ve survived these past five years, or how you managed to sneak your way into this party with an invitation that doesn’t belong to you. What I do know is that I will never let you back into my family. I won’t allow you to hurt Joanie again!”

“Keyshia.” He straightened, towering over me with that familiar arrogance. “Honestly, I could’ve ignored you and pretended you didn’t exist tonight. But you dared to hurt Joanie, and you’ll have to pay the price.”

He clapped his hands. In an instant, a group of security guards surrounded me in a tight circle.

“You have a choice,” he said. “Will you do it yourself… or will I do it for you?”

One of the guards handed him a knife. He accepted it, waiting for my answer.

But I laughed instead. “Oh, Vernon, do you really think the whole world revolves around you?”

I pointed at the blade in his hand.

“If you’ve got the guts, you’d better finish me off tonight.”

I took a slow, deliberate step toward him. “Because when it’s my turn…” I leaned close, each word sharp as glass. “Don’t you dare beg me to have mercy.”

I laughed out so loud, my laughter echoed through the grand and silent hall, slicing through the tense air.

Vernon’s face darkened, his body trembling with rage.

The sight dragged me back to five years ago when he looked at me the very same way—back when he used my dog Wiggle to force me to beg for mercy and admit my mistake.

He had locked Wiggle in an iron cage, ordering his men to seal my dog’s muzzle shut.

Each time I refused to beg for Vernon’s forgiveness, the blade would slash cruelly across my dog’s body.

My pride—my entire being—had been shattered piece by piece at that time. I could only watch helplessly as Wiggle writhed in agony.

At last, I collapsed to my knees, sobbing and begging for mercy.

“Vernon!” I cried and pleaded, “Don’t hurt Wiggle!”

“I was wrong! I admit it!” I slammed my forehead into the floor again and again until it bled. “I was wrong! I admit I was wrong!”

Wiggle… Wiggle was all I had.

My only hope was to take him away from the Browetts.

With that, I begged desperately.

“Please… let Wiggle go! Let Wiggle go!”

I could never forget the look in my dog’s eyes—how he endured the pain yet still worried about me. And I could never erase the hatred etched into my bones that night, one that would still ignite whenever I looked back.

Now that I was facing my dog’s murderer, all I felt was nothing but that hatred that refused to die.

“You’re nothing more than Joanie’s dog, Vernon,” I spat each word out clearly, my voice sharp as a blade. “If Ernest knew he had made a mistake leaving everything in your hands, he would crawl out of his coffin just to drag you down with him!”

“After all,” I added with a smirk, “the Browetts are utterly ruined now!”

In the next instant, his hand clamped down on my throat, and my breath was stolen.

Oxygen drained from my lungs as I met his bloodshot eyes. His voice, guttural and deranged, roared against my ears.

“Don’t think for a second I won’t kill you, Keyshia! You’re nothing but the family’s dog!”

With that, he slammed me to the floor. My body hit the shards of broken champagne glass, every jagged edge piercing my skin, slicing open countless stinging cuts.

A violent shudder wracked me. And before I could recover, he yanked my hair back, forcing my head up.

“When I tell you to beg, you beg! When I want you dead, you die!”

His lips curved into a twisted smile.

“But tonight, lucky for you, I’m not really in the mood to kill you just yet.”

“After all…” He patted my cheek, his voice low and taunting. “A toy this exquisite—how could I possibly let it break so easily? Don’t you agree?”

I stared at his face, so close to mine.

And suddenly, Joanie’s voice echoed in my memory, a video she had once sent me, her tone dripping with triumph.

‘I just told Vernon that Wiggle was scary, and guess what? He skinned your dog alive for me.’

‘Say, what if next time I tell him that you’re frightening, too? Do you think Vernon will peel your skin off as well?’

‘Gosh! That’d be hilarious!’’

‘Listen, you bitch. You may be his wife on paper, but you’re not even worth a servant!’

The memory seared through me as I stared at Vernon. My throat burned with something metallic. And just as his palm came down to strike my face again, I spat a mouthful of blood right across his fucking face.

For a fleeting second, his expression twisted from shock to revulsion, to sheer disgust.

“I agree, Vernon,” I said.

“How could you possibly die so soon?” I mimicked his tone and laughed like he did. “After all, a game this entertaining deserves to be played until the very end.”

Little did he know, I had come back for a reason.

I never planned on sparing the Browetts. I had sworn, the ones who murdered my Wiggle would pay! Every last one of them!

Wiggle’s death had been too cruel… too merciless. How could I ever forgive them?

Seeing me defiant even now, Vernon abruptly released my hair and wiped the blood from his face.

“You’re right,” he sneered coldly. “Some things… shouldn’t be rushed. They’re better savored… like slow torture.”

His eyes locked on mine, brimming with malice. “Since you’ve shown your face in front of me again, let’s play this game well.”

He turned away without another glance and barked an order to the guards.

“Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her escape.”

Then, just like flipping a switch, he softened his expression as he turned toward Joanie with tender concern.

“Does it hurt?” he asked gently, brushing away the tears streaking her cheeks. “Come, I’ll take you to a private room.”

Joanie collapsed into his arms, sobbing pitifully.

“With you here, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered between choking sobs. “As long as I have you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

I could only watch as Vernon carried her away, cradled delicately in his arms.

Meanwhile, I sat slumped on the floor, my body wracked with pain, every shallow cut burning against my skin.

Around me, the sycophants began throwing out their cruel remarks.

“Who knows where this trash crawled out from, daring to lay a hand on Vernon Browett? She should count herself lucky he didn’t kill her outright tonight. Fool, take what’s left of your pitiful life and get lost!”

“That’s right! I’ve heard the stories—you’re nothing but a stray Ernest dragged in from the streets. He raised you out of pity, and this is how you repay him? Turning against Joanie? Jeez, you deserve to be thrown out like the trash you are!”

“Oh, speaking of which,” someone snickered as he unlocked his phone, “I still have that video from five years ago—her dog getting murdered.”

He scrolled through his album until he found it. The others crowded closer, grinning with morbid excitement.

“Show me!”

“I want to watch it, too!”