I was about to head upstairs to my old room to rest when I was intercepted by Beatriz—my so-called best friend. She stood in my way, her arms folded, looking me up and down like I was some stray mutt who’d wandered into the wrong house.

"Still clinging to your past glory as Miss Geneva, shining by Mr. Weber’s side?" she sneered. "Now that Diane is back, it’s time you learned your place."

I kept my voice calm. “Then where’s my room?”

She lifted her chin, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. Around us, the crowd that had once praised me now laughed behind their wine glasses. I turned slowly to see where she was pointing.

In the far corner of the courtyard stood a weathered wooden shack—its walls splintered, paint chipped, covered in deep bite marks. A Rottweiler stood guard beside it, panting heavily, its chain taut with tension.

“There,” Beatriz said sweetly. “That’s your new room. And that’s your new roommate.”

Laughter erupted.

I glanced at Andrew, but he remained silent, unmoved, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. My former follower, Wendell, chuckled cruelly.

“Go on. You’re lucky to share a room with the guard dog. After all, you’re just a lunatic. What right do you have to be in the Weber Family’s house?”

“Better hope it doesn’t tear you apart in your sleep,” another added, snorting. “Bit a bodyguard to death last month.”

“A madwoman and a mad dog—what a perfect match!”

More laughter.

I pushed open the gate to the backyard. The Rottweiler let out a bone-chilling growl and lunged, stopping just five centimeters from my leg. The iron chain snapped tight, clanging violently against its post. One step further and I would have been torn apart.

“Geneva, don’t bark,” a soft voice called behind me.

The dog stilled immediately and lowered itself to the ground. Diane approached slowly, leaning on a cane, her expression cloaked in gentle pity. She smiled, holding out a piece of raw meat, and the dog licked her hand obediently.

“Sorry—did I scare you?” she asked sweetly. “This is Geneva. Andrew and I raised him together. Funny, right? Same name as you.”

Yes. Just like the dog, I had bled and labored for this family. And now I was being fed scraps.

“Diane, careful,” someone warned behind her.

She moved closer, eyes hidden beneath gauze, and whispered in a voice only I could hear:

“Did you really think you could walk back into the Weber Family like nothing happened? I won’t let that happen.”

Her words were ice against my spine.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you back then. I didn’t expect you to survive the mental hospital. But this time... you won’t be so fortunate.”

She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

“The night before your little wedding, I’ll make sure there’s not even a body left to bury.”

And then I knew—she wasn’t blind at all.

The gauze was a lie. A trap. Everything had been planned so I could die without suspicion.

She straightened, the picture of elegance. Between her fingers was a small, barely visible scrap of paper—dosed with stimulants.

Before I could react, her cane struck me hard in the back. Pain exploded through my spine and I collapsed. The next moment, white-hot agony pierced my ankle.

The Rottweiler had sunk its teeth into my leg and was dragging me across the courtyard like a rag doll. I barely registered the gasps or the sound of my own blood soaking into the garden soil. I reached out instinctively, searching for something—anything—to hold onto.

My eyes darted around in panic. Through the blur, I saw Andrew rushing toward Diane—not me.

“Diane, get inside! Don’t let the dog hurt you!”

“What’s wrong with this dog today? Why is it attacking people all of a sudden?”

The servants kept their distance. No one dared step forward. Inside the villa, the rest watched through the glass, sipping wine and laughing like it was a circus performance.

“I haven’t seen a dog fight in ages. Think she’ll bleed out before it finishes?”

“I’ve got ten grand on the dog. Anyone betting?”

In their eyes, I was less than human.

Andrew’s gaze finally landed on me. A flicker of worry—not for me, but for the condition of my eyes. Would the damage affect the transplant?

The Rottweiler, now twitching from the drugs, growled again—its eyes bloodshot, its jaws snapping toward my throat.

But I was no longer the obedient canary they remembered. Years of torment in the asylum had taught me one thing: how to survive.

Silently, I reached into my sleeve. My fingers found the dagger I always kept hidden.

“Kill her!” someone shouted.

The dog lunged.

I raised my arm to shield my face. Its teeth tore into my flesh, blood erupting from the wound. Pain threatened to blind me, but I grit my teeth, twisted my body, and plunged the blade into its abdomen.

A howl pierced the courtyard. The dog staggered back, whimpering, then collapsed.

“What the hell?” Andrew barked. “Why isn’t it moving?”

Two bodyguards rushed over to check.

“Sir Andrew... it’s dead.”

Silence.

Everyone stared at me, stunned. Disbelief twisted their faces. They hadn’t expected me to fight back, let alone win.

Diane burst into tears, collapsing into Andrew’s arms.

“My Geneva… How could she be so cruel? I’m blind now. Andrew, you’re just going to let her kill our dog?”

Andrew’s eyes flicked back to me. I knelt in the blood-soaked snow, covering my mangled arm and ankle, looking up at him with practiced innocence.

“I didn’t kill it,” I said softly. “There was a sharp stone on the ground.”

His gaze narrowed. For a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then he sighed.

“You promised to donate your eyes. I’ll let this go.” His voice dropped. “From now on, you sleep in the doghouse. Don’t set foot in the Weber Family’s main house again. Understand?”

I nodded meekly.

That night, wrapped in a thin cotton blanket inside the cold wooden shack, I watched snowflakes fall silently through the slats above. The cold pierced my skin, but I’d known worse. The hospital was colder. Lonelier. In there, I was whipped, shocked, humiliated—broken until I became something else.

Outside, through the frost-covered glass, I saw Diane and Andrew’s shadows moving close together—laughing, drinking, embracing.

That used to be my place.

I curled into myself, holding the blade in my hand.

In the dead of night, I heard footsteps crunching in the snow.

I gripped the dagger tighter.

The door creaked open.

Then—splash.

A basin of ice water crashed down on me.

The ice-cold water slammed against my skin, jolting me awake. Before I could react, a pair of rough hands yanked me out of the doghouse. In the dim glow of the courtyard light, I saw the face of Wendell.

"What do you want?" I asked, voice hoarse from the cold.

He sneered, his expression twisted with cruelty. "Did you really think bringing you back meant welcoming you into the Weber Family?"

He wrapped a metal chain around my neck, pulling it tight. I stared at him, not struggling—only watching him with quiet confusion.

"You used to follow me like a shadow," I said. "Why the sudden betrayal? Was it Diane’s return that turned you?"

He laughed coldly. "I followed you because you were favored by Andrew. But when Diane came back, you were discarded like trash. That’s the real world, Geneva. In a family like ours, being obedient gets you nowhere."

His grip on the chain tightened, choking my breath. "In your next life, learn to beg properly. And don’t cross paths with Andrew again."

My vision blurred. As darkness crept in, I reached for the dagger hidden in my sleeve. But before I could strike, a sharp gleam flew through the air and embedded itself in Wendell’s foot.

He screamed and released me.

"You’ve got guts," a cold voice said from behind him.

Andrew stood at the top of the stairs, a long robe wrapped hastily around him. The scent of desire still clung to him—he had come straight from Diane’s bed.

Wendell dropped to his knees, clutching his foot. "Sir Andrew, I don’t understand why you’re keeping her alive. Why not just take her eyes and be done with it? Why pretend to marry her?"

Andrew's expression didn’t waver. "You dare question me?"

A beat of silence. Then his voice dropped, deadly calm. "If you interfere again, the next blade will pierce your heart."

Wendell scrambled away.

I clutched the bruises on my neck and crawled toward the doghouse, but before I could reach it, a hand gripped my chin hard. Andrew crouched before me, face cold, voice colder.

"Starting tomorrow, you won’t live in the doghouse. We’re getting married, and you’ll receive the ‘treatment’ you deserve." He paused, his thumb pressing into my jaw. "But don’t get any ideas. The only thing I value about you is your eyes. No matter how devoted you are, you’ll never have a place in my heart. Understand?"

I nodded, eyes lowered. "I understand."

But deep inside, a memory surfaced—seven years ago, on a rain-soaked night. I had carried Andrew, half-dead, from a mound of corpses. He had touched my cheek with a bloodied hand and whispered, "You saved me. My life is yours now."

He had grown up and learned to walk again—but the first thing he did as a man was cast aside the crutches that held him up.

That night, he took me back to the villa. As I turned to find a guest room, his voice stopped me.

"Don’t bother. Just keep watch outside my and Diane’s door. Wasn’t it your specialty to serve me?"

The cold of the corridor bit deeper than the winter winds. I curled up like a stray mutt at the threshold of the room where he now lay tangled with another woman.

I’d stood watch for him once, through fevers and wounds. Now I guarded his pleasure.

But it was still better than the mental hospital. At least here, I wasn’t being electrocuted or starved.

I drifted into sleep—until the sharp pain of something crushing my face woke me.

A high heel.

Diane stepped on me as if I were trash on the ground, her expression innocent.

I clenched my fists but said nothing.

“Geneva, I remember how good you used to be. After I was done with Andrew, you’d come in and clean everything up. Five years in that asylum, and you’ve forgotten the rules?”

She leaned close, smiling sweetly. “From start to finish, you were never anything more than the Weber Family’s loyal dog.”

I bowed my head and apologized softly. Around me, the room’s details swirled—familiar. Too familiar.

The soft ivory palette, the delicate patterns on the wallpaper, the curve of the armchair—I had chosen it all. Even the clothes in the closet—agile, elegant—were pieces I had custom-made. But none were in my size.

He had been preparing for Diane’s return long before I ever suspected.

While I had been dreaming of becoming Mrs. Weber, he had been plotting to make me the dressmaker for someone else's wedding.

I glanced at the calendar. The wedding date loomed like a knife.

"Why are you staring at it?" Diane’s voice came from behind me. "Excited? Counting the days until you die?"

A flash of silver—her butterfly knife came at me fast. I jerked aside, but not fast enough. A shallow cut opened on my cheek.

She blinked in surprise. "You dodged?"

Then her smile turned cold. "You’ve been pretending to be obedient, haven’t you?"

“What are you doing?”

Andrew’s voice sliced through the air as he entered the room. Diane flinched, then quickly concealed the butterfly knife and rushed to him, wrapping herself around his arm with practiced sweetness.

“Andrew,” she said softly, “Geneva was talking nonsense again. She said that once she marries into the Weber Family, she’s going to kick me out.”

It was a careless lie—but one that Andrew didn’t question. His face twisted with rage. The next second, he kicked me to the ground.

I fell, landing hard on my knees. I lowered my head without protest.

“Did you forget what I told you last night?” His tone was ice. “Without Diane, do you really think you could still be by my side? If your eyes didn’t look like hers, do you think I would’ve taken you back ten years ago?”

Even after everything, those words still hurt. For years, I believed the light that pulled me from despair came from him—but I was only a reflection of someone else. An echo. A placeholder.

With a wave of his hand, the bodyguards entered and dragged me out.

“Five years in the mental ward, and you’ve already forgotten the rules of the Weber Family?”

Those words sent a deeper chill through me than the winter air. The Weber Family wasn’t just powerful—they were brutal, bound by strict, merciless codes. I remembered vividly the banquet five years ago, where a false accusation nearly cost me my life. Now, with Diane in control, I wouldn’t get out alive this time.

They dragged me into the main hall, forcing me to kneel in front of the crowd. A bodyguard loomed behind me, gripping a heavy wooden club.

The Weber Family gathered like spectators.

“She’s getting beaten again!”

“She had it coming. Always defying Diane. Wonder if she’ll still have legs after this?”

I said nothing. I stared at the stick in the bodyguard’s hand. My marriage certificate hadn’t been issued yet. If I acted now, no matter what revenge I took, I’d land in prison.

But if I didn’t... I might not survive.

The first blow came down hard against my side. Pain exploded through me, and I collapsed.

“Tie her up. If she struggles, break her hands.”

Cold iron shackles clamped around my wrists and ankles. I lay crumpled on the ground as the beatings continued, each strike digging deeper into flesh and memory. In that storm of agony, my mind began to fracture.

The madness was back.

I remembered that night in the asylum—when a dozen inmates pinned me down, treated me like nothing. That night, something inside me died. My body bled, and my mind broke. The next morning, the room was soaked in blood. They took me to the ICU. Electroshock followed. After that, I was no longer human.

Now, that same voice echoed again.

Kill them. Kill them all.

The club came down again—but this time, I grabbed it mid-swing.

The bodyguard yanked, but it didn’t move.

Gasps rose around me.

I quickly let go and dropped my hand. The guard stumbled back, unnerved.

“What’s going on?” Andrew frowned. “No strength? Haven’t eaten?”

The bodyguard wiped his forehead, confused, then raised the stick again.

Just as he swung—

The doors burst open with a bang. A voice rang out from the entrance.

“So lively in here.”

Everyone turned.

A man dressed in black stood at the doorway, a blood-soaked figure lying at his feet. It was the Weber Family’s undercover man—half-dead and barely breathing.

Black leather shoes stopped in front of me.

I looked up—and froze.

Marco Weber.

He looked down at me, lips curling into a faint smile. “Why so pitiful, sister?”

He used to be just a boy, a nameless wanderer. I gave him the name Marco—after mine. The last time I saw him was five years ago. He had begged me to leave with him. But I stayed for Andrew, foolishly believing he’d change. Marco had walked away in anger. And I… I was sent to the asylum.

Looking at him now, I barely recognized him.

The streetwise boy was gone. In his place stood a man who ruled Chicago.

I gave him a hollow smile. “Long time no see…”

But inside, I felt nothing. I was no longer his sister. I was a monster created by pain.

Marco’s eyes flickered as he took in my injuries. Around us, the Weber Family readied their weapons. Andrew stepped forward, gesturing for them to part. He walked to Marco, his expression cold.

“Mr. Weber,” he said evenly, “this is the Weber Family’s estate. Don’t you think it’s rude to break in without notice?”

Diane gasped behind him. “That’s Marco? The one who took over Chicago in five years?”

Marco ignored her. He kicked the bleeding body at his feet. “I’m just returning your garbage. Honestly, the Weber Family should stop wasting resources on this kind of trash.”

Then he looked around.

“Five years ago, when your Miss Geneva was still here, the Weber Family was unbeatable. Look at you now—weak, crumbling.”

All eyes turned to me again.

I saw it in their faces—realization. Regret. They all knew how much I had done: the contracts I secured, the alliances I negotiated, the victories I won with nothing but charm, wit, and loyalty.

But Andrew only remembered how obedient I was.

“She’s just a dog,” Diane said sharply. “Everything she had came from clinging to Mr. Weber. I’m the real core of the Weber Family. Without the Knight family, would your jewelry empire even exist?”

Marco’s eyes narrowed. A cruel smile spread across his face.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “The Knight family won’t exist for much longer.”

Diane blanched. “What… what do you mean? You’re going after my family?”