Julia released me, her tone softening slightly.

"Joseph, it breaks my heart to see either of you upset."

"Your mother isn't coming back anyway. It's just a worthless painting. Why not let Neil have it? If you really want one, I'll buy you a hundred copies later. How does that sound?"

I grabbed the glass of water from the table and smashed it against Julia's head without hesitation.

"No deal."

Blood trickled down Julia's forehead. Neil shrieked and rushed over, shoving me hard.

"Who do you think you are, hitting people?! It's just a painting! Fine, we don't want it anymore—take it back!"

The scroll suddenly unraveled in his hands.

Riiip—

The sacred Madonna portrait tore in half.

One piece remained in my grasp.

The other half—Neil tossed it into the fish tank beside us.

"Oh no, I... I didn't mean to..."

I ignored him and lunged toward the tank, fishing out the ruined half.

The pigments had already bled beyond recognition. It could never be restored.

I couldn't even protect the last thing my mother left me.

My heart felt shredded. Tears dripped onto the floor.

Something flickered in Julia's eyes—almost like pity—and she shot Neil a reproachful glance.

"Joseph..."

Neil seemed to remember something and quickly grabbed a bowl from the coffee table, thrusting it toward me.

"Here, this is a folk remedy I found for you. They say it prevents all kinds of diseases. Drink it and forgive me, okay?"

The black liquid inside reeked of rot. I could make out the corpses of scorpions and maggots floating in it.

I snatched the bowl and hurled it at Neil.

"You want my forgiveness? Over your dead body."

The liquid had long gone cold.

But Neil clutched his arm and screamed.

"Ahhh, it burns!"

My stepmother rushed over. Seeing the commotion, she yanked up Neil's sleeve. His arm was covered in red welts.

The two exchanged a glance. Then she pulled Neil into her arms and burst into tears.

"Oh, my poor baby! Why do you bother caring about that ungrateful wretch? When has he ever treated you like a brother?!"

"You've always had such delicate skin. What if it scars? Daughter-in-law, are you just going to stand there and watch your husband get bullied?!"

Julia looked at me, disappointment flooding her eyes. She closed them briefly, then spoke in a low voice.

"Bring a basin of boiling water."

At her signal, the bodyguard beside her forced me to the ground, pinning me face-down.

A basin of scalding water was placed before my eyes. The steam was so intense I couldn't keep them open.

Dread flooded through me.

"Julia, what are you doing?!"

She gazed down at me from above.

"Joseph, you've repeatedly spurned Neil's kindness and hurt him. There has to be a price."

Guessing her intent, I struggled with everything I had.

"That bowl was already cold! Neil and his mother are putting on an act—can't you see that?!"

At my words, Neil immediately started wiping his tears.

"You bully me and target me, fine—but Julia has been so good to you. How can you bear to lie to her?!"

"You think I'm not hurt enough? Fine. I'll scald myself with the boiling water right now. Consider it payment for your mother's painting!"

He had barely lifted his foot toward the basin when Julia pulled him into her arms.

"Neil, you're just too innocent. That's why he's always framing you, always hurting you. I believe you."

Neil sniffled pitifully.

"Actually... the little princess of the elite circle is so obsessed with looks. If we ruin his skin with boiling water, maybe that's a good thing? Maybe she won't want to touch him anymore. At least he won't catch any diseases from her."

Such an absurd suggestion, and Julia actually nodded in agreement.

"Neil always was the clever one."

I laughed—wild, unhinged laughter that brought tears streaming down my face.

"Julia, I was so wrong about you. You and Neil truly are two of a kind—a match made in hell!"

Julia's brow furrowed, her expression turning cold.

"Joseph, if you're angry and want to lash out at me, fine. But why do you have to attack Neil at every turn? He's done nothing but think of you. Don't be so ungrateful!"

"Neil's right—maybe this is a way to protect you. Besides, you owe him this!"

"Don't worry. Even if your body is covered in scars, I won't find you repulsive. The moment that Gilbert girl dies, I'll come get you myself!"

The words had barely left her mouth when an entire basin of scalding water was poured down my back.

The pain was beyond anything I'd ever known—searing, all-consuming. I couldn't move, couldn't escape. My body convulsed uncontrollably, tremors wracking through me.

My father rushed in, his voice urgent.

"Enough of this nonsense! The Gilberts have sent someone. Their young lady is fading fast—doctors say three days at most. Her dying wish is to marry and consummate the marriage before she goes, so she won't be a lonely ghost."

"The Gilberts want to take him now. They're holding a small ceremony at home so Miss Gilbert can die without regrets!"

When the butler tried to change my clothes, he froze at the sight of my back—a grotesque landscape of blisters that made him afraid to touch me, terrified of breaking them and causing infection.

When my father heard, there was no concern in his voice. Only reproach.

"I'm the one who sent Neil to get the sacred Madonna portrait from you. I never imagined you'd be so difficult about it—even going so far as to falsely accuse him. You never learn!"

I turned to look at him, hatred burning so fiercely I thought it might consume me.

So he was the one who told Neil about the painting.

"Don't look at me like that. What, are you regretting this now? Did you think getting yourself injured would get you out of the marriage?"

"Let me make this clear: the Gilberts have promised a generous gift once this is done. Even a small project from them would cover years of our company's profits. I've raised you all these years—it's time you repaid me. You will marry into that family today!"

My father told the butler not to bother with my injuries—just put me in the red ceremonial suit.

Red on red. No one would notice. As long as it looked presentable.

The blisters on my back burst one by one as the fabric dragged across them. The pain was so intense I could barely stand upright.

By the time I got into the car, the back of my suit was soaked through with blood.

Through the window, I saw Julia mouthing words at me silently:

"Joseph, hang in there. I'll come for you."

Three days later, Julia received word that someone in the Gilbert family had died.

She counted the days. It had to be the little princess of the capital's elite circles.

She rushed to the funeral home with Neil to pay her respects.

But when she approached to view the body, Julia froze.

The person lying in the casket wasn't some young heiress.

It was an elderly man with a full head of white hair.