For ten years, I secretly harbored feelings for Uncle Percival Montgomery and filled a diary with my unspoken love.

On the day of my meticulously planned confession at my coming-of-age ceremony, I was full of joy, certain he would accept my feelings.

But to my dismay, it was all a fantasy.

Percival produced my diary, and the usually gentle man looked at me with eyes as cold as ice.

"To fall in love with your own uncle. Garce Huxley, you seriously need help!"

It was he who had me committed to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.

After three failed pregnancies left me disabled, I was too broken to love again and willingly became a humble junior in front of him.

When Percival discovered the truth, he went utterly mad, eyes reddened with tears as he begged:

"Garce Huxley, I was wrong. Please, love me again!"

...

The day I was taken out of the psychiatric hospital in handcuffs.

Percival, clad in a black trench coat, stood erect at the hospital entrance.

In the shadows where Percival couldn’t see, Charles's large, calloused hand lingered on the inside of my waist, threatening malevolently.

"Garce, once you're out of here, you know what to say and what not to say, right?"

Standing before Percival, I couldn't bear to look up at him. Trying to minimize my presence, I curled into myself as much as possible.

Percival's words exploded in my ears.

"Garce, I'm here to take you home."

This marked the fifth year of my internment in the psychiatric hospital.

For five long years, I deceived myself with fantasies every day.

If I could hold on just a bit longer, Percival would come and rescue me.

Pain washed over me like a tide, and perhaps due to the prolonged medication, memories from five years ago began to flicker through my mind.

On my eighteenth birthday, I had harbored a secret wish to invite Percival for the first dance.

I had meticulously chosen the song as a declaration of love.

After years of being with him, I fell irrevocably in love with Percival.

Percival, who had always doted on me and never rejected me, suddenly changed his demeanor.

Percival coldly shook off my hand, producing a thick leather-bound notebook.

Ignoring my progressively paler face, he opened the notebook and read aloud every embarrassing word to the crowd.

At that moment, just as now, I stood helplessly before him.

Percival's thin lips parted, exuding icy coldness:

"To fall in love with your own Uncle Percival, Garce, you're truly sick, and you make me nauseous."

Laughter erupted around us, turning my coming-of-age ceremony into an unrecognizable nightmare, shattering my secret love.

"If you're this sick, you'd better get proper treatment."

Percival committed me to a private psychiatric hospital.

At first, I repented daily, convincing myself that loving him truly was a sickness.

My room was placed in the darkest, most dismal corner.

Surrounded by the most extreme mental patients, I was fragile.

Every night, the endless noise of scratching walls, punches, kicks, and insults pushed my sanity to its breaking point.

I started losing hair in clumps, forced to take medication that kept me in a constant state of drowsiness.

On the electroshock chair, my sessions and shocks were three times more than other patients.

They cornered me in the treatment room, yanking my hair, forcing me to kneel in humiliation, and I emerged covered in bruises and welts.

One evening, after they dumped a plate of food over my head again, I snapped.

With yellowed vegetables still clinging to me, I barged into Director Charles's office, clinging to his leg.

Looking at Charles’s seemingly kind face, with tears streaming down, I cried:

"Please, save me! I can't take this inhuman torment any longer. I'm on the verge of breaking!"

Charles listened with a smile, moved behind me, and gently locked the door.

His hand moved between my legs, caressing up and down as he suggested a deal.

"Alright then, you help me, and I'll help you, okay?"

That one sentence froze me in place, making my scalp tingle. I stared back in horror, fiercely resisting.

Charles, dropping all pretense, dragged me to the bed, abandoning his facade. He slapped me hard, twice.

"Grace, you really think you're still a rich heiress? Playing the virtuous maiden here?"

My face burned with pain, nausea churning in my stomach. Tears blurred my vision, and I sobbed hoarsely:

"If Uncle Percival finds out, he won't let any of you off!"

To my dismay, his laughter grew even more maniacal, disregarding my threat completely. Charles' breath huffed against my skin as he moved over me, whispering sinisterly in my ear:

"Don't you know? Everything you're experiencing now was personally arranged by your Uncle Percival."

His words stopped my heartbeat for a moment. So, they were all in on it.

My pitiful fantasies shattered against the harsh reality. Like a frozen fish, I was rigid on the bed, his vicious words gnawing at my very bones. A multitude of kisses covered my neck and chest, but I was powerless to push him away, tears streaming down my face.

Charles vented his anger violently on me, and I couldn't help but clench my hands, curling my fingers in agony. Percival, so this is how much you despise me.

Suddenly, his gaze from my coming-of-age ceremony flashed in my mind.

As the intensity peaked, my strength ebbed away, and I loosened my grip, losing my final straw. Seeing me lifeless, a puppet without response, Percival scowled and roughly grabbed my hands. The serrated edges of the handcuffs dug into my skin, and I gasped in pain.

Percival’s eyes scanned downward, stopping at the sight of bruises and scars on my bare arms. A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he demanded sharply:

"What happened?"

His forcefulness made my hands tremble uncontrollably. My suffering lodged in my throat, turning into incoherent syllables.

Charles, standing nearby, showed a strained expression and quickly interjected:

"Boss Montgomery, Miss Huxley's illness was extremely severe before. She had significant self-harm tendencies. But after treatment, she’s much better now."

Charles studied Percival's face and assured:

"Our treatment was very effective. You don’t need to worry."

He glanced at me, eyes full of warning.

That same look, dragging me back to five years of darkness. Those madmen kept me bound to the bed, violating me nightly. During that time, I conceived three times, only to be subjected to electric shocks, discarding the unborn like garbage, burying them alive.

Percival frowned slightly, doubt flickering in his eyes:

"Is that so?"

His tone was flat but to me, it sounded like a death sentence.

Charles frowned, sneaking a glance at me.

I didn’t dare utter a single "no". The sheer torture of being tied up in a restraint chair for three days and nights was something I was desperate to avoid.

Taking a deep breath, I suppressed my tremors and nodded.

"Yes."

I buried my true self, behaving docilely as I had learned over the past five years. After a moment, a low chuckle resonated above me. Percival looked at my submissive demeanor, nodding with satisfaction.

"It seems the illness really is cured."

Preparing for discharge was always tricky. So, I rode in a car with the butler. Nathan Pemberton beside me, clenched his fists tightly.

Once onboard, he deliberately kept his distance, not meeting my eyes. I thought he found me repulsive too.

Yet I couldn't help but notice him stealing glances.

Unlike those who lusted after me, his gaze was clean, devoid of loathing or disgust. Perhaps because he once had affection for the Grace of five years ago.

Now faced with me, old feelings made room for pity. Nathan's heavy breaths were audible in the confined car space.

"Grace, have you been through...some sort of trauma?"

I could sense a hint of concern in the hesitant words.

I couldn't help but inwardly slap myself.

Five years. Haven't I learned how to be hopeless by now?

Now that I am broken, I am no longer worthy of anyone's care.

I could feel Nathan's gaze lingering on my face, filled with some confusion.

But I didn't turn back, staring blankly at the driver's leather seat in front of me.

I unconsciously bit at the dead skin on my lips and pulled at my long sleeves to cover the scars on my arms.

I didn't answer Nathan's question.

More accurately, I wasn't worthy of answering.

I warned myself clearly.

Grace, stop dreaming, you won't be saved by anyone.

"Mr. Montgomery, welcome back. Please review the guest list for the engagement banquet."

Percival's secretary was waiting at the villa entrance holding a bright red guest book.

Nathan and I walked behind Percival.

Even from a distance, I could clearly see the upward curve of Percival's lips.

Looking around, I noticed many rose baskets decorating the front yard, with heart-shaped balloons swaying gently.

Perhaps unable to bear my confusion, Nathan quietly explained beside me:

"Mr. Montgomery and Miss Morgan are engaged."

"Bringing you back today is so you can attend their engagement banquet."

Engagement, Miss Morgan, a few words connected with scattered fragments in my mind.

On my coming-of-age ceremony, there she was, Sophia Morgan in an embroidered dress, holding Percival's arm.

Hearing the romantic words spoken by Percival, she instantly furrowed her brows.

With a gentle tone, Sophia spoke words that cast me into hell:

"Percival, your sister seems to be ill. Don't be angry with her. The best thing for her right now is to receive proper treatment."

It was Sophia who suggested sending me to the psychiatric hospital.

She claimed it was mental illness that needed proper "treatment."

"... I understand."

I could only nod.

On the day of the engagement banquet, I saw Sophia Morgan again.

She looked stunning in a pure white chiffon dress, accentuating her exquisite figure.

Sophia stood next to Percival; they looked like a perfect couple.

I was placed in a corner, coldly observing everything around me.

Sophia noticed me, a flash of displeasure in her eyes.

Under the pretext of toasting, she walked toward me.

The ostentatious sound of high heels striking the ground stopped behind me.

Suddenly, sharp pain shot through my waist, contorting my face in agony, but I bit my lip to avoid making a sound.

"Grace, you are quite lucky to get out of that asylum."

"Now you can see, Percival and I are engaged. If you are sensible, stop dreaming about marrying Percival."

She released my waist and smirked with amusement:

"If you don't behave, I'll just have to send you back to learn the rules again. You know their methods."

The mention of "learning the rules" made me shudder intensely.

Fear instantly overwhelmed my rational mind.

"An orphan brought back by Mr. Montgomery, still dreaming of climbing into his bed—today I'll teach you what the rules are!"

The words of the madmen who abused me echoed in my ears.

"Let's cripple one of your legs today so you'll know you can't overreach!"

My left leg had been broken, leaving me permanently disabled.

I slipped from my chair, kneeling at Sophia’s feet.

Sobbing, I kowtowed to her, one after another, until my forehead was bruised and bleeding.

"I'm sorry, I won't think about it anymore. I know I was wrong. Please don't send me back!"

The commotion in the corner drew the attention of the guests.

Many gasped at the sight of fresh blood on the floor, but I was oblivious.

Percival saw Sophia's distressed look, his face darkened, and he stormed over, pulling me up with force.

My left leg twisted, and I almost fell, only to be caught by Percival.

"Grace, have you had enough?"

Seeing Sophia's tearful face, Percival thought I was deliberately ruining the engagement banquet.

Seeing my silence, he angrily pulled me to the back garden.

I followed him like a broken doll, limping behind.