The time was set two days later.

After a long while, I finally got up, gathered all my belongings from the bedroom, and called the housekeeper to have them taken away.

The housekeeper hesitated. "Does Sir Vincent know about this?"

I forced a bitter smile, and said, "I’m just decluttering. No need to tell him."

When the room was finally empty, I stood in the doorway, gazing at the hollow shell of what had once been my home. There wasn’t a single ounce of attachment left in my heart.

Just then, my phone rang.

It was my mother.

I pressed accept, only to be met with her cold, commanding voice.

"Get back home tonight. I don’t care what you’re doing—just be here."

And then, as if to hammer the point home, she added, "If you’re not back by five, deal with the consequences yourself."

Soon after, the line went dead with a busy signal.

I set my phone down, already knowing the reason for the call. It had to be about Louise.

—

By five o’clock sharp, I stood outside the Ainsworth family estate.

As soon as I pushed open the door, an ashtray came flying straight at me.

I didn’t move, and the hard ceramic struck my forehead with a sickening crack. Blood trickled down my face.

Silently, I bent down, picked up the ashtray, and walked over to my father. I placed it on the table and greeted them evenly, "Dad. Mom."

Louise clutched Vincent’s sleeve, feigning distress.

"Vince... I’m scared. Look, my sister is bleeding," she whimpered, but the satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable.

My mother glared at me, her face twisted with disdain.

"Oh, you’ve really learned a lot since getting married, huh? You’ve gotten bold enough to bully your own sister!"

She scoffed, voice laced with venom. "I should’ve never given birth to you. You’re nothing but a wretched curse!"

I couldn’t help but ask, "Did you really give birth to me?"

Immediately, a searing pain exploded across my right cheek as her hand landed on my skin.

I was too weak to withstand the force, and I crumpled to the ground.

For a brief moment, hesitation flickered in Vincent’s eyes.

Noticing this, Louise let out a laugh.

"Sister, really? Mom didn’t even hit you that hard. Why did you fall over so dramatically?"

On hearing her words, Vincent’s gaze darkened. The momentary flicker of doubt vanished, replaced by cold indifference.

My mother sneered. "Exactly! I barely touched you, and here you are pretending to be weak—trying to frame me now, are you?"

She crossed her arms and added, "What is it? Is the title of ‘Mrs. Milton’ not comfortable enough for you, so now you want to extort your own mother instead?"

I didn’t respond.

I merely picked myself up from the ground, my face expressionless.

My father’s glare bore into me, and he intoned coldly, "Kneel, and apologize to Louise."

I looked up at him, bewildered. "At least tell me why?"

Without warning, my mother struck me again, harder than the first. My cheek swelled instantly, my lips splitting from the impact, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

My mother’s voice dripped with hatred.

"You little wretch! You’re bullying your sister, and you still have the nerve to argue? You know she’s pregnant, and yet you’re jealous enough to want to harm her child?"

"I should’ve drowned you the moment you were born!"

Her words cut deep, but I felt nothing.

Not anymore.

I turned to my father, searching his face for even the smallest trace of fairness. Instead, he rose from his seat and swung down the cane in his hand.

A sharp pain shot through my left leg. I grunted in pain but didn’t cry out.

My father coldly spoke, "Kneel down and apologize to Louise."

A deep sense of desolation washed over me.

I turned my gaze to Vincent and asked, "Do you think I did it?"

Vincent responded coldly and distantly, "Apologize properly to Louise, and I won’t pursue this matter further."

I looked at them, my eyes filled with bitterness.

I suddenly felt like the past years had been a joke.

My parents never loved me, my husband never cared.

No one had ever stood by my side.

I inhaled sharply, and calmly said, "Fine, I’ll apologize."

Just as I was about to kneel, I paused.

Louise shot my mother a meaningful glance.

My mother immediately understood, swiftly grabbing two glass cups from the table and smashing them on the floor. Shards scattered everywhere.

She pointed coldly at the broken glass. "Kneel. Right here."

I stared at her in disbelief. "Are you really my biological mother?"

Her face faltered for a split second, but the flicker of guilt was quickly swallowed by rage. She raised her hand to slap me again.

But this time—I caught her wrist.

She struggled, eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you! Look at you! Are you really going to strike your own mother now?"

I let go of her hand and turned toward my father, my gaze steady and calm.

He must’ve been startled by the look in my eyes because his brows immediately furrowed with disapproval.

"What are you staring at me for? Kneel and apologize to your sister!"

"You're the older one—how can you be so jealous every single day? Learn a thing or two from Louise, will you?"

I couldn't hold back the sarcasm. "You mean like seducing her own sister’s husband?"

Louise’s expression turned sorrowful. She swayed as if about to collapse, and Vincent quickly reached out to support her.

He furrowed his brow and looked at me. "Sierra, that joke went too far."

"If you’ve done something wrong, apologize. Why are you still insulting Louise?"

I looked at the man who once swore eternal love to me, now holding another woman in his arms and defending her with righteous indignation.

A wave of cold sorrow washed over me.

"Sister, I don’t need your apology anymore," Louise said suddenly, stepping forward with a tragic expression. She bent slightly, as if preparing to kneel.

"All I ask is that you stop using that witchcraft against me—for the sake of the child I carry."

The moment those words left her mouth, the room fell into stunned silence.

Vincent was the first to explode.

"Sierra! I never imagined you could be so cruel! What has Louise ever done to deserve this? Resorting to dark sorcery to harm her and the baby?!"

My mother’s voice shrieked through the room.

"You heartless wretch! I raised you, clothed you, fed you—and this is how you repay us? Harming your own sister? Do you even have a conscience left?!"

My father’s face turned grim.

"Sierra, I’m truly disappointed in you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

I laughed bitterly. "Even if I told you the truth, would any of you believe me?"

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then, without warning, he lifted his cane and struck the back of my knee.

Pain shot through my leg, and before I could react, I collapsed forward.

My knees slammed directly onto the shattered glass.

Agony bursts through my every nerve.

Darkness flickered at the edges of my vision.

As I tried to push myself up, a heavy hand shoved the back of my head, slamming my forehead down onto the shards with a sickening crack.

The room spun.

Through the haze of pain, I looked up—and saw Vincent wiping his hands with a sanitizing wipe, calm and detached.

Not even a trace of affection in his eyes.

"Sierra, this is how you apologize properly. I’m doing you a favor."

"Now get rid of that dark magic, or if anything happens to Louise, I won’t forgive you."

"I told you—I never used any kind of sorcery!" I shouted, and clenched my fist so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Louise stepped in, her voice soft and trembling. "If Sis says she didn’t do it, then I believe her... Vince, please don’t be angry. I’m sure she didn’t mean it."

She played the part of the peacemaker—but every word she spoke twisted the blade deeper into my back, pushing me further toward the abyss, all the while wearing the mask of innocence.

I looked at each of them one by one, and suddenly—everything I’d done over the years felt like nothing more than the pathetic performance of a clown.

Every time my parents were sick, it was always me rushing around, doing everything I could, even fainting from exhaustion on several occasions.

When Vincent’s company faced a crisis, I desperately tried to pull in business partners, even drinking so much I ended up with stomach ulcers more than once.

And as for Louise—my parents spoiled her endlessly all these years. I never tried to compete, never fought her for anything. Yet she always wanted to take what was mine.

I took a deep breath, feeling something in my chest quietly shattered and slipped away.

There was no place for me in this family.

There never had been.

Or perhaps, I never had a family at all.

As I faced their accusing glares—like I was some murderous criminal—I felt nothing but a cold numbness rise within me.

"Are you all satisfied now?" I asked calmly, looking directly at Louise.

Wasn’t this exactly what she had wanted?

Vincent snapped, "Sierra, what kind of attitude is that?! Louise is kind and innocent. She’s done nothing wrong—why are you treating her like this?"

"Can’t you stop being so jealous? The Milton family doesn’t like women who are overly jealous."

I looked at him with distant eyes. "Do you think I need your approval?"

'Vincent, your so-called love is worthless.'

He probably didn’t expect that the usually obedient woman would actually start to argue back. The discomfort this caused him was evident.

My father cleared his throat. "Alright, this matter ends here. Today is a family dinner day, so behave yourself."

In other words—let it go. Pretend nothing happened.

I clenched my fists. When my eyes met the same cold, detached gaze from my father that I'd known all my life, I couldn’t bring myself to say another word.

At the dinner table, Vincent sat beside Louise. I was seated across from the two of them.

He seemed flustered for a brief moment when he noticed my gaze, perhaps intending to explain. But before he could, Louise spoke first with her usual delicate tone, "Sis, my boyfriend is away on a business trip overseas. He and Vince are best friends, so I asked Vince to take care of me. You don’t mind, do you?"

I almost laughed. There was no such overseas boyfriend.

She said that just to show off—to provoke me.

And Vincent played right along. "Yes, Sierra, don’t take it the wrong way. Louise’s injured and still recovering—of course I’d help out, as her boyfriend’s brother."

I looked at him, trying to keep my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "So everything you’ve done for her up to now—that was all out of brotherly duty to your friend?"

Before he could respond, my mother yanked me up and threw me to the floor, screaming at the top of her lungs, "You damn girl! Have you no shame?! Are you trying to turn the whole house upside down?"

"If Louise weren’t so kind and forgiving, do you think we’d even let you sit at this table after the awful things you've done?"

I lowered my gaze, an overwhelming sense of sadness filling my heart.

When I walked in earlier, I noticed the dishes on the table—every one of them was something Louise liked.

As for me?

There was nothing.

They didn’t know what I liked—or maybe they never cared.

And now my father chimed in again.

"That’s enough. Vince and Louise don’t come back often. Must you be the one to ruin every family gathering?"

I stood up and met my father’s direct gaze.

Suddenly, I understood. He was talking about me.

I let out a bitter laugh in my heart.

Who was the one who truly ruined this family?

Did they really not know the answer?