"Cecelia Graham has come around. She’s learned her lesson. She won’t challenge anyone again," the instructor reported, expression stern.

The girl beside him stood with her shoulders trembling slightly, gripping the worn fabric of her loose uniform pants like it was the only thing holding her together. All she wanted was to get out of that place.

"Looks like sending you away worked." The cold voice made the girl go rigid, hurt flashing across her face. The speaker was Marshall Robinson, the man who had taken her in and raised her like a younger sister—a man whose influence reached into every corner of the city, and the one who had sent her to the institution.

Marshall had an air of refined charm: deep-set eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses, a straight, sharply defined nose, and lips that always curved into a faint, deceptively gentle smile. A decade ago, after her parents died and left her alone at ten, her uncle’s family turned their backs on her.

In her despair, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders. It was so comforting that it stopped her tears. She followed Marshall home. He took care of her schooling, attended parent-teacher meetings, and showered her with extravagant gifts—jewelry, real estate, and more.

Under his protection, she became the most cherished young woman in the city. But when she turned twenty, she learned of his engagement to Margot Cook. She fell apart when she found out—and he sent her away.

How foolish she’d been to think she could fall in love with the man who had raised her like a sister without consequences.

Suddenly, a hand shoved her forward. She stumbled toward the car, eyes widening in panic. She dreaded the moment she’d land in Marshall’s embrace—but then his voice cut sharply through the air.

"Cecelia!"

Her wrist was gripped so tightly the bones nearly crushed. Pain sent cold sweat down her spine.

"Marshall… I didn’t mean to. I tripped, I swear!"

"I swear I won’t ever be so… defiant again!" It was those very words that had condemned her to a year of inhumane torment.

Hot tears scalded Marshall’s hand. Instinctively, he let go. As the car door closed, Cecelia huddled in a corner, shaking with anxiety.

"Margot was right," Marshall observed. "Sending you there has set you on the right path." He could see the change in Cecelia—she had never admitted to any wrongdoing before. Yet as he watched her timidly avoid his gaze, an inexplicable heaviness settled in his chest.

The phone rang, distracting him from the pale girl beside him. He assured the person on the other end that he’d be at the hotel soon. The car pulled up to the grand Celestial Hotel, named in her honor.

Outside, luxury cars lined the streets, and large wedding portraits of Marshall and Margot were on display. He had brought her back so she could witness the wedding herself, hoping to make her finally abandon her illusions.

But after all she had endured, how could she still harbor any hope?

"Margot wants you to be her bridesmaid. Can you manage that?" Marshall’s eyes darkened with impatience at her lack of response.

"Fine," Cecelia agreed quietly, knowing it was the only way to keep Margot from making her life even worse.

"You and Mr. Green go change now. I have things to handle," Marshall instructed, glancing at her oversized, worn-out clothes and feeling a measure of relief.

In the dressing room, Cecelia changed into a champagne-colored bridesmaid dress. She closed her eyes, mustering the courage to join Mr. Green and proceed to the ceremony.

As soon as they entered the ballroom, the room buzzed with congratulations.

"Wow, Ms. Cook looks stunning today, doesn’t she? She and Mr. Robinson are a perfect match," one guest remarked.

"Indeed. The Robinson and Cook families joining forces is a power move. An orphan from the Grahams doesn’t stand a chance now," another whispered.

"It’s been a year now. I wonder how Cecelia managed in that institution," someone else chuckled.

"Heh. Without Mr. Robinson’s protection, what choice did she have but to keep her head down under those harsh instructors?" another sneered.

"Watch your mouth. Ms. Graham used to be quite the rebel, challenging everyone. She might overhear you," a voice warned.

Cecelia barely reacted to the laughter. She was numb to it, as if she were hearing the voices of those instructors again. She had learned to blame herself. She should never have mistaken Marshall’s favor for something special.

"Cecelia Graham, how dare you show your face here!" a voice yelled behind her. Before she could react, a hard shove sent her crashing into the champagne tower.

With a clatter, a cascade of champagne flutes toppled around her, leaving the floor and her in a soaked mess. The one responsible was Romina Elliott—Margot’s best friend and Cecelia’s own cousin.

Onlookers gathered quickly, their expressions filled with glee at the unfolding drama.

"You troublemaker. What nerve do you have, coming back? Do you think everyone’s forgotten your antics from last year?" Romina taunted viciously.

Cecelia kept her head down, her hair dripping, the dress clinging to her frail frame.

Marshall frowned at the sight and swiftly moved through the crowd. "Did you do this?" he asked coldly.

Seeing Marshall still defending Cecelia made Romina uneasy. She quickly retorted, "Mr. Robinson, I barely touched her. She’s trying to ruin Margot’s wedding again, and I got mad and lashed out. That’s all."

Ruin the wedding? Cecelia’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. There was no way she could deny Romina’s accusations.

A year ago, when she learned of Marshall and Margot’s engagement, she had spiraled in despair and lashed out at everyone around her. Margot had stabbed herself and framed Cecelia, which led Marshall to send her away to the institution. Nobody believed Cecelia then—not even Marshall.

Now, with her past against her, there was no hope of anyone believing her.

Marshall looked at her silently, his eyes darkening. "Still haven’t learned your place?" he murmured. The storm brewing in his voice made her pulse race with fear. She knew too well what disobedience would result in.

"I didn’t do anything," she whispered, trembling. She couldn’t bear to be sent back to that dreadful place.

"You’re lying. You’re not new to sabotaging Margot’s weddings. Last time you stabbed her. Now you’re pulling some self-harm stunt?" Romina added fuel to the fire, a smug smile on her lips.

"Enough," Marshall barked, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to Cecelia. The room fell silent. Even Romina was subdued.

Cecelia stood frozen, bewildered, until a woman’s voice rang out.

"Marshall, what happened?" Margot inquired, a victorious smile playing on her lips as she approached. "Oh, it’s little Cecelia! Don’t worry about the dress. I have a spare bridesmaid gown. I’ll help you change."

Cecelia wanted to pull away but was forcibly led forward by Margot, right past Marshall.

As they walked, Margot’s voice lowered to a chilling whisper. "Why didn’t you just disappear in there?"

Cecelia stiffened, horrified by the malice in her words.

"Do you want to go back to the institution and experience the instructors’ new… methods?" Margot continued, her words conjuring up horrifying memories.

White with fear, Cecelia used all her strength to break free, crying out, "Don’t touch me!"

There was a scream as Margot fell to the floor.

“Margot!” Marshall Robinson rushed to Margot Cook’s side, his face tight with worry. “Are you okay?”

Margot winced and bit down on her lip. Her voice trembled. “It hurts so much! My ankle… These heels are killing me.”

Romina Elliott whirled on Cecelia Graham, furious. “You little troublemaker! We should send you back to that place and make sure you never get out.”

Not back there. Not that nightmare.

Fear slammed into Cecelia. She dropped to her knees in front of Margot Cook, head bowed, desperate.

“Miss Cook, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Please don’t send me back. I’m begging you…”

Her apologies came out broken by sobs. Everyone went still.

Was this really the once-proud, defiant Miss Graham?

Even Marshall froze. It hurt him to see his sister humiliate herself like this. He took a deep breath, then spoke—firm, but gentle.

“Cecelia, get up.”

“Marshall, it’s all my fault! I won’t do it again. Please, just give me another chance.” Cecelia pleaded, clutching the hem of Margot’s dress as sobs shook her whole body.

She couldn’t go back. Those instructors would torture her to death.

Margot Cook watched with quiet satisfaction. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, soothing.

“Marshall, maybe Cecelia’s just overwhelmed by our wedding. Maybe she should talk to someone in psych?”

Cecelia froze. She glared at Margot, the truth hitting her all at once: no matter what she did, Margot would crush her. And Marshall was buying every lie.

Pathetic. Her life had turned into some cruel joke.

“Marshall, won’t you believe anything I say?”

“Is Margot’s word the only one that matters to you?”

Her voice was thick with helpless despair, edged with bitter self-mockery.

Marshall’s anger flared. “Fine. If you still haven’t learned your lesson, then take Margot’s advice. You need psychological help.”

Cecelia’s eyes filled with anguish. Then she coughed up blood and collapsed.

Chaos exploded. Screams filled the room as she lay unconscious in a pool of her own blood.

“Cecelia!” Marshall rushed to her, horror in his eyes. “Get her to the hospital—now!”

“Marshall, today is our wedding!” Margot tried to hold him back, desperate not to have another ceremony ruined.

Marshall’s eyes were fierce. His voice left no room for argument. “Move.”

After being rushed to the hospital, Cecelia slowly opened her eyes after emergency treatment. Her head throbbed as she tried to focus on Marshall.

“Marshall…”

Marshall hadn’t slept. He kept his anger carefully buried. His voice was calm but firm. “Why did you ruin the wedding again?”

Ruin the wedding? The memories crashed back. Cecelia clutched his hands, terrified.

“Marshall, I didn’t mean to ruin your wedding.”

“Please, don’t fall for Margot Cook’s lies.”

“I’m in danger.”

“She’s deceiving you. She bought off the instructors. They tortured me day and night—starved me, beat me…”

“Cecelia, are you making up stories just to stop my wedding?” Marshall shook her hands off, disappointment written all over him. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not lying! She sent me to a lawless black-market compound in Myanmar. They used electric shocks when I disobeyed. They tortured me with medieval methods. They even took one of my kidneys…”

Applause echoed from the doorway. Margot Cook stepped in.

“Cecelia, how can you spin such tales about Myanmar?” she said, her smile serene as she slipped her arm through Marshall’s. “If you were really sent there, how did your brother get you back so easily?”

Marshall’s gaze hardened on her.

Fear flickered through Cecelia. “I’m not lying. Have me examined. I really lost a kidney…”

“From now on, you’ll be under constant surveillance,” Marshall announced, turning to leave.

“No!” Cecelia ripped out her IV and tried to follow him, terrified of being locked up again.

Security guards moved in, blocking her. There was no escape.

All she could do was watch as Margot led Marshall away. Margot’s triumphant smile was a taunt, her victory thrown right in Cecelia’s face.

Yes. She had lost again.

If she had known her fate, she would never have followed Marshall ten years ago.

Mary said gently, “At least you’re okay now. Please, don’t make trouble for Mr. Robinson anymore.” She couldn’t bear to see the two children she’d raised hurt each other like this.

Cecelia froze for a moment, then closed her eyes in pain. “Mary, I…”

She wanted to say she had given up.

But no one would let her.

“Mr. Robinson canceled the wedding for you, stayed by your side all night, and now he’s gone back to the family estate to face his relatives.”

Cecelia fell silent, unsure what to say.

Mary handed her a medical report, resigned. “This is your health report. Mr. Robinson has seen it.”

Like grasping at straws, Cecelia read each line. Test results for nearly everything. Even her kidneys.

Every result came back healthy.

Desolation spread through her. This was Margot’s handiwork.

She must have bribed the doctors.

No wonder Marshall didn’t believe her.

During her time in Myanmar, electric shocks had been routine. Disobedience meant having her nails pulled out—one wasn’t enough, so they pulled another. She’d become a regular blood donor…

Beyond the physical torment, there was the psychological trauma: being forced to watch girls her age endure brutal abuse until they died. Methods so horrific they left her scarred deep.

She thought she had endured enough punishment. But she never foresaw losing a kidney, going into renal failure, and being left with less than five years to live.

After two days in the hospital, she returned to the home where she’d lived for ten years, ready to pack her things and leave. She might be doomed, but she refused to die at Margot’s hand.

No sooner had she walked in than she saw Marshall’s parents and Margot. Dread tightened her chest.

Then Abigail Robinson unleashed her fury.

“You ungrateful brat! I should’ve stopped Marshall from bringing you here. Then he wouldn’t be the laughingstock of the entire city.”

“Marshall treats you like a real sister, and you repay him with such nasty intentions. Why don’t you just vanish?”

The insults pierced Cecelia’s heart all over again.

“Cecelia, for your parents’ sake, I can overlook last night. But you must leave today,” Marshall’s father said icily, making his meaning crystal clear.

Cecelia Graham opened her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper, but Abigail Robinson cut her off sharp.

“Stop calling us Mom and Dad. We don’t have a daughter as shameless as you. Get out!”

Abigail’s voice dripped with disdain, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

Cecelia’s heart clenched. She dropped her head, swallowing the pain, words failing her.

Watching her pitiful display, Margot Cook’s lips curved in smug satisfaction. She looped her arm through Abigail’s with practiced affection.

“Aunt Abigail, my parents were really upset about last night’s reception. I’ll try to calm them down, so please don’t be too angry.”

Abigail’s tone softened for Margot. “Margot, don’t worry. We won’t let Marshall do anything stupid, and we’ll give your family a fair explanation.”

Margot belonged to the Cook family—social equals to the Robinsons—and both families were banking on the match.

Cecelia knew what a business marriage meant. She’d been foolish enough to believe Marshall Robinson would never fall for Margot Cook—and that delusion sent her chasing love like a reckless fool.

Now she’d lost everything.

Even the adoptive parents who’d once spoiled her rotten had taken Margot’s side.

Cecelia remembered how Abigail used to take her to amusement parks, ease her into the circles of the elite, treat her like the Robinsons’ treasured jewel.

Robert had always treated her with warmth. Every birthday, every academic win, came with a thoughtful gift.

Steeling herself, Cecelia faced the hatred in her adoptive parents’ eyes and thanked them for the past decade of care.

“Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, thank you for everything. But I’m leaving this family.”

Margot Cook’s lips curled in triumph. She’d waited over a year for this moment. Once Cecelia was out of the picture, there’d be no future trouble.

“And where will you go once you leave? You won’t pull some stunt and make Marshall bring you back, will you?” Margot taunted, needling Robert and Abigail to get rid of Cecelia once and for all.

Fear flooded Cecelia’s eyes as nightmares rose like a tidal wave.

“I... I promise I won’t bother... Marshall again. I swear,” she stammered, desperation coloring every word.

“Swear? Since when do your promises mean anything?” Abigail shot her a scathing glare, then turned to Robert. “Why not send her abroad—somewhere Marshall can’t find her?”

Cecelia’s face went white.

“No... I don’t want that. I can leave on my own.”

“Cecelia, you’ll go where I decide. I won’t mistreat you,” Robert said sternly.

Cecelia bolted before she could think better of it, fear chasing her from behind.

But the security guards were faster. Their hands closed around her, hauling her back before she made it two steps.

A sharp slap cracked across her cheek. Abigail had struck her hard.

Cecelia crumpled to the floor, her limbs cold, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Abigail had never hit her before.

This was the first time.

Maybe now she was about to fall into Margot Cook’s carefully laid trap, with no way out.

Despair swallowed her from every direction, leaving her like a lost soul.

Escape was impossible.

Then, suddenly, a tall figure appeared before her—Marshall Robinson.

Cecelia’s body trembled. She instinctively recoiled from him, knowing he was the source of all her misery.

“Mr. Robinson, I was wrong. Can you make them stop tormenting me?”

“I promise I won’t bother you again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Her repeated apologies rang in his ears, painfully raw, yet a suffocating pressure settled in his chest.

Brow furrowed, Marshall lifted Cecelia off the ground. “Remember, I raised you. No one gets to bully you.”

With that, he set her down and shot his parents an unhappy look.

“If Cecelia does something wrong, I’ll handle it. You’re not to meddle in her matters anymore.”

Abigail was furious that he’d defended Cecelia.

“Marshall, how long are you going to keep covering for her? She’s ruined your wedding twice now. She’s a curse, and she’ll do anything to hurt you.”

Marshall’s expression turned icy as he cut Cecelia down. “What are you waiting for? Go upstairs and put your apology in writing. I want a signed statement.”

Cecelia knew she had no choice. Either Margot Cook shipped her off to some dreadful place, or she obeyed Marshall now and found a chance to escape later.

Still, she couldn’t understand why Marshall seemed to protect her while letting everyone else tear her apart.

Her heart was a tangled mess. Like a puppet on strings, she slowly climbed the staircase.

As she went up, a pair of harsh, resentful eyes bore into her back, as if willing a hole straight through her.

Margot Cook hadn’t expected Marshall to come back and shield Cecelia again. Jealousy burned through her.

How dare Cecelia compete with her for Marshall’s affection!

Time would tell.

Cecelia returned to her old bedroom on the second floor. A year away, and everything was exactly as it had been.

Her gaze landed on the warm, inviting four-poster bed. Her eyes stung with tears, and she was too afraid to go near it.

Everything here belonged to the dream world Marshall Robinson had built for her—a paradise from a past life, not the girl she was now.

Weary, she sat at the desk, closed her eyes, and made up her mind. She would leave.

After a while, she opened her eyes again.

She picked up a pen and paper and began drafting the statement Marshall had demanded.

When she’d confessed to Marshall, she’d been ordered countless times to put her remorse in writing. She’d stubbornly refused every time.

This time, she obeyed.

She was the one at fault, and she accepted all of it.

She began to write: Mr. Robinson, I am grateful for the warm home you gave me. Everything is my fault. I understand now that I crossed a line. I mistook your kindness for something more, and I will never make that mistake again. From now on, I won’t provoke you again. I hope you and Margot have a happy life together...

She rewrote the statement again and again, each version stripping away another piece of her pride.

Tears betrayed her, splashing onto the page.

Her cries were stifled, her body trembling, her hand moving in a frenzy.

Again and again, she revised the words until there was nothing left to defend.

She sincerely wished three simple words—I’m sorry—could wash away her mistake.

She should never have fallen for the man who had raised her like a sister.