When the footsteps outside finally faded away, I let out a breath of relief and began to think back on the events of 2002.

Lena, my father's mistress. You might wonder how I found out.

My mother told me, just before she passed away. She grabbed my hand and said, "Clara, I'm so tired. I might just fall asleep and never wake up. Your father has someone else, a woman named Lena. I don’t know how long they’ve been together, but she’s pregnant now. Your father plans to marry her. I’m scared they’ll hurt you. I’m so sorry for what I've put you through. Please, make sure you live well, okay? Mommy loves…"

Before she could finish the last word, her heartbeat flatlined. After that, all I heard was the beeping sound of the machines and a flurry of doctors rushing in to try to save her.

When I got the death certificate, I completely broke down. From that moment on, I would never have a mother again.

Even when my mother was laid to rest, that bastard, Silas, didn’t show up.

To this day, I can’t bring myself to remember the image of my mother crying as she spoke to me. Her hot tears fell onto my hand, and the pain felt like someone had taken a knife and ripped open my heart.

I knew she wasn’t ready to let go, and neither was I.

Maybe it was pity from fate for my mother that gave me this chance.

I would hold onto this opportunity with everything I had, ensuring that the abusive bastard would never stand again.

My thoughts snapped back from the past as I looked at my bruised arms and the scars crisscrossing my legs. Tears involuntarily streamed down my face. The countless marks on my skin told me that Silas had been hurting my mother for a long time.

"Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were suffering like this. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure I take back every ounce of pain you endured," I said, lifting my head, hoping she could hear me.

I leaned against the wall, struggling to stand. The discomfort from my head and neck shot through me, making my heart race.

Slowly, I moved toward the bathroom.

Standing before the mirror, I stared at the face I hadn’t seen in a while. My nose tingled, and once again, the tears fell.

The red marks from being choked were still visible on my neck, my face was ashen, and my hair was a mess.

But my mother wasn’t like this before I left. She always had a smile on her face back then.

I reached up and touched the spot on my face where my mother’s smile used to be. I silently vowed to destroy that abusive man.

After a quick wash, I went to my room and flipped through the calendar.

December 1st, 2002.

At that point, I was already in school. My third year of high school had kept me so busy that I rarely came home, but I knew everything that was happening at home, and I made sure to call my mom every day.

Looking at the timeline, I knew what would come next.

Soon, Silas would try to steal my mother’s dowry to invest in a game hall in town. Naturally, he would lose it all and even owe tens of thousands of dollars. When my mother found out, she had a heart attack and ended up in the hospital. Even then, Silas didn’t give up; his addiction to gambling was insatiable, and he borrowed hundreds of thousands in high-interest loans.

The only way to deal with such a scumbag was to deliver a crushing blow right when he thought everything was going well, making sure he could never recover.

My mother was a proud woman, so even when Silas hit her, she would silently endure, never willing to show weakness.

But that wouldn’t work. If I kept being stubborn, my plans would fall apart. I would have to swallow my pride for now.

I knew Silas only respected weakness, so if that was what he wanted, I would give it to him in full.

At six in the afternoon, the sound of the door unlocking reached my ears. I knew Silas was home.

I had been waiting by the door, a smile on my face. As soon as I saw his figure, I quickly walked over to take his coat, my voice sweet as I said, "Honey, you're home. I just made dinner and have been waiting for you."

It seemed Silas really enjoyed being pampered, as for the first time, he smiled at me. He casually wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned close to my ear, his mood clearly lifted as he said, "Honey, I love the way you are now."

The warm breath near my ear made my skin crawl. It was disgusting.

Though the distance from the door to the dining room was only a few steps, it felt like I had walked for an hour, enduring every second.

"Honey, I love your cooking. I want you to make me meals for the rest of my life," Silas mumbled through a mouthful of food.

The damn idiot still wanted to eat the food I made. I silently cursed him a thousand times in my head, but on the outside, I kept the sweet, obedient daughter image.

I picked up a piece of pork rib and placed it in his bowl, still smiling, my voice dripping with sweetness. "Hehe, if you like it, Honey, I'm happy."

I had to admit, my mom's voice was a gift—soft, a little breathy, the kind of tone that could make anyone's heart flutter.

"If you're this obedient, I won't hit you anymore," Silas said, his eyes narrowing, his gaze lingering on my chest, desire practically dripping from his eyes.

The sight of this greasy, piggish man staring at me made me feel sick. I had no appetite to continue eating. But Silas seemed unsatisfied, as he ordered me to get him some wine.

I obeyed, handing him the wine as instructed.

Just as I was about to pull my hand away, I felt his greasy touch on my skin. Silas had kissed my hand with that piggish mouth of his. Seeing I didn't resist, he took it further, using his other hand to grope my ass.

I was horrified, and I quickly pulled away, stumbling back a meter. As I looked up, Silas' eyes were narrow, veins bulging from his forehead, and he slapped me across the face with all his strength.

The force of the slap made me stumble to the ground. My face, already pale, throbbed with sharp pain. I touched the swelling on my face, tears welling up in my eyes, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling a sense of defiance.

"Honey, why did you hit me again?" I looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, my voice trembling with feigned innocence.

"I see you won't listen unless I hit you. I told you to stay still, so don't move. Now get over here, right now," Silas spat, his face twisted with rage.

He threw his bowl at me, the shattered pieces of porcelain cutting into my arm as they hit the ground. The pain shot through me, but I lowered my head and smiled quietly, making sure he didn't see it.

By the window, the newly purchased hidden camera was still there, the red light blinking, signaling that it had recorded the entire scene.

The cameras, which I bought earlier in the morning, were strategically placed in places where he would never find them—one here, one in the bedroom, and one in the living room. Once everything was done, I would personally send him straight to hell.

"Are you deaf? I told you to crawl over here. If you don't, you're going to get another beating," Silas said, sitting on the chair, his voice calm but cold.

I knew he was watching me, enjoying the show, confident that I wouldn't dare to crawl.

Looking at the broken shards scattered on the floor, I hesitated. I didn't want to crawl, and I didn't want my mom's body to be scarred further.

"Well, if you don't crawl, you're going to get punished," he taunted.

Without waiting for me to respond, he walked outside and returned with a cane, standing in front of me.

The pain in my body made it impossible for me to straighten up. I had to lie there, looking up at him with pleading eyes. But this ruthless man was beyond mercy. He swung the cane with full force, one blow after another, each one intending to leave me with lasting marks.

I wanted to fight back, but I didn't dare. I couldn't overpower him. All I could do was be thankful for the cameras. At least they would capture everything. It was only temporary, though—I kept telling myself that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Silas stopped, grabbed his coat, and left.

The pain was unbearable. Every part of my body hurt, and even though I wanted to stand, I couldn’t gather the strength.

I crawled to the dining table, clutching the leg of the table, trembling as I sat down.

I was wearing the fleece sweatshirt I had bought for my mom. It was the one I had found hidden in the corner of the closet. When I took it out, it was still new, and I knew my mom must have been too hesitant to wear it.

At least the weather was cold these days, and I was wearing something thick. Otherwise, my skin would have been raw from the beating.

After cleaning up a bit and taking a shower, I climbed into bed.

As for that abusive bastard, I couldn’t care less. I had no intention of asking him anything. His carefree time was running out.

That night, after he left, Silas didn’t return for two whole days. Those two days were the most peaceful I had experienced in a long time.

Every day, I would eat and sit outside in the yard, zoning out, imagining what life must have been like for my mom. I now realized how much more peaceful life was without Silas. When my mom was being abused, I was at school, but now, it was different. I had to give my mom peace of mind from above, make sure she was at rest, and give her a good reason for everything.

Speaking of which, I realized I hadn’t introduced my family yet.

My mom was Fiona Shaw, and we lived in the town, which is why we had a big yard in front of the house. As for why I didn’t live at home, my mom sent me to study in the city for a better education, and since it was far, I stayed in a dorm.

That night, a soft rustling noise woke me up.

I cracked open my eyes and, by the moonlight, saw Silas rummaging through the closet.

After a moment, he pulled out a red box. I knew it was my mom’s dowry.

The moment he opened it, he quickly turned his head to stare at me. I was startled by the movement, but I forced myself to remain calm and closed my eyes, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing.

"Ha," I heard Silas sigh deeply in the dark, as if he had found a lifeline.

Luckily, the cameras had caught everything.

Stealing—it wasn’t a minor crime, though not huge either.

The door clicked shut, but I didn’t move. I knew there was a face outside the window, a face that could kill me at any moment, watching me. I knew this kind of person loved to strike when you least expected it.

Even though I hadn’t seen his eyes, I could feel them drilling into me, and I broke out in a cold sweat. It was terrifying.

The feeling of being watched didn’t disappear for quite some time.