"If you don't like us coming here, we won't come in the future."

Simon looked at her with eyes full of pity and heartache. He gently patted her shoulder, offering a few words of comfort. Then, turning to me, his expression darkened, his voice laced with cold authority.

"Julia, apologize."

As his words fell, Leo stopped his wailing, his tear-streaked face lighting up with a twisted sense of triumph. He sniffled, his voice filled with childish arrogance.

"I want her to apologize on her knees! Our teacher said kneeling shows sincerity."

Simon didn't even hesitate. "Then let her kneel and apologize!"

His words sent a shockwave through me. Leo's demand didn’t faze me, but hearing Simon agree so easily made my heart lurch. My mind reeled back to the past—the man who once adored me beyond reason.

Back then, he couldn't bear to see me suffer even a little. Even if he only had two thousand dollars, he would give me nineteen thousand just so I could buy my favorite necklace. He used to say, "I can endure hardship, but you cannot. Whatever others have, you must have too."

I remembered the day I started my first internship. A client had tried to slip me a room key. Furious, Simon had stormed into the clubhouse alone, a wooden stick in his grip. He fought recklessly, emerging bruised and bloodied—but he never let me suffer even a scratch.

As he carried me out of that place, he had clung to me in fear, his voice shaking. "Thank God I got here in time. I can't lose you, Julia. How would I live without you?"

And now, the same man who once said he couldn’t live without me was treating me like nothing—siding with another woman and her child. When had love turned into such a cruel joke?

A bitter laugh escaped me as I clenched my fists. "I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"

Simon’s expression darkened completely. His patience snapped. Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the dark storage room on the first floor.

"You’ll stay in here until you realize your mistake," he said coldly, pushing me inside.

I turned pale. My breath caught in my throat as I stumbled backward into the pitch-black space.

"Simon, you can't do this to me!" I pleaded, reaching for him, my fingers clutching desperately at his sleeve.

He knew. He knew I was terrified of dark, enclosed spaces. When I was five, I had been kidnapped and locked away in a damp, suffocating warehouse for two weeks. After I was rescued, the trauma never left me. I couldn’t be in confined, dark places without suffocating in fear.

And yet, knowing this—knowing how much I dreaded it—he still shoved me inside.

"Let go!" he snapped, prying my fingers off him with ease. His eyes held nothing but indifference as he shut the door, sealing me in darkness.

A scream tore from my throat. I pounded against the door, my nails scraping against the wood. "Simon! Open the door! Please! I can’t stay in here!"

Terror clawed at me, memories of my past ordeal flooding back. The cold dampness, the suffocating silence. My breath came in ragged gasps as I pressed against the door, my whole body trembling.

Then, like a cruel echo, another memory surfaced.

Half a month ago, when I was still under the haze of my drug-induced dementia, Leo had fallen into the pond while playing alone. He had been rescued, but he had claimed that I was the one who pushed him. Without hesitation, Simon had believed him.

Just like now, he had locked me in the storage room, his voice void of emotion as he said, "You’ll stay in here until you admit what you’ve done."

I had screamed and begged, but he never came back. Instead, Leo and Lisa had appeared, standing on the other side of the door with victorious smiles on their faces.

Lisa’s voice was laced with smug amusement as she taunted, "Julia, you come from a wealthy family—so what? You still can’t win Simon’s heart. You’ll stay like this forever, watching me and my son take everything from you."

Leo’s childish, cruel voice followed. "Simon is my father. No one can take him from me! A woman like you doesn’t deserve him at all! Mom, wouldn’t it be great if she just died in here? Then we could finally take back our home."

Lisa stroked his hair lovingly, her eyes dark with contempt as she looked in my direction. With a scornful sneer, she muttered, "She should’ve died a long time ago. After all, she survived such a terrible accident—if only I had known, I would have made sure she never woke up."

A chill ran down my spine as the realization hit me. My car accident—it wasn’t an accident at all. Lisa had orchestrated it.

My breath came in shallow gasps as I fought to steady myself. Bracing against the cold, damp walls, I forced my trembling legs to move.

I remembered something—when I first moved in, I had hidden a spare phone in this very utility room. If no one had found it, it should still be here. Hands shaking, I groped through the darkness, my fingers brushing against rusted tools and discarded boxes. Then, finally—my heart clenched—I felt the cool, familiar shape of my old phone.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched it tightly, my chest rising and falling erratically. This was my only chance.

With unsteady fingers, I dialed the number engraved in my heart. The ringing felt endless, each second stretching like eternity. Then, finally, a voice—deep, warm and achingly familiar.

“Dad,” I choked, my voice barely a whisper. “I want to come home.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before his voice trembled through the speaker, filled with barely contained emotions.

“Baby… you’re back? You’ve come to your senses?”

My father’s voice cracked, disbelief and relief colliding in his words. Before I could say more, he spoke again, firm and resolute. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

And just like that, the call ended. Minutes later, the front gates slammed open and there he was—my father. The moment his eyes landed on me, his expression darkened. He took in the sight of my bruised face, the red imprint of a hand on my cheek. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, fury and pain flashing in his eyes.

But instead of asking questions, he just exhaled a shaky breath and whispered, “Daddy’s here now. I’m taking you home.” He didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate. He simply took my hand and led me away.

As we got into the car, he drove in silence for a moment before speaking, his voice forced into a calm that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Julia… are you sure?”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Leaving him… leaving all of this behind. Will you regret it?”

I wiped away my tears, remembering every moment of betrayal, every drop of pain.

“No,” I whispered. “I won’t regret it. Let’s go.”

***

Meanwhile, Simon sat beside his son in the hospital, watching the doctor examine him. Only when the results confirmed no serious injuries did he finally exhale in relief.

Lisa, however, was far from calm. Holding Leo in her arms, she dabbed at his forehead, her face a mask of grief and righteous anger.

“She’s so ruthless, Simon,” she sobbed, her voice trembling. “If we hadn’t been home, if something worse had happened—how could I ever live with myself?”

Leo, playing the role of the obedient son, sniffled dramatically. “Mom, don’t cry. I’m okay. As long as Auntie Julia is happy and doesn’t cause trouble for Dad, I’ll be fine.”

Seeing the boy’s pitiful expression and hearing Lisa’s tearful words, Simon’s expression darkened. The irritation in his heart toward Julia deepened.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the head maid.

“Keep an eye on Julia,” he ordered coldly. “She’s not to be given any food until I say so.”

There was a pause. Then, the hesitant voice of the maid crackled through the line.

“Sir… Madam’s father came earlier. He… he took her away.”

Simon’s frown deepened. “He what?”

“I don’t know, sir. Madam didn’t take anything with her. Should I go and bring her back?”