"Arthur’s little sister, she’s the jewel of his heart. She’s pure and kind and Arthur dotes on her endlessly!"

That much was true. Isla was the same age as me, twenty-four, yet the way she spoke made her seem three or four years younger, drawing out people's instinct to protect her.

But despite this being our first meeting, she made it clear she didn’t like me.

When she administered my injection, I felt every deliberate misstep. Each misplaced needle sent a sharp sting through my skin, the pain intensifying with every prick.

Within moments, the back of my hand was bruised and swollen.

She looked at me with a faintly apologetic expression, yet not once did she utter a word of remorse.

In the end, it was a passing nurse, unable to watch any longer, who found an excuse to send Isla away. Only then was I finally able to receive my IV properly.

Even so, the unease in my chest refused to settle. I insisted she apologize.

Isla was unwilling, her lips pressing into a tight line. But under Arthur’s quiet pressure, she finally relented, muttering three reluctant words.

"I'm sorry."

As soon as the words left her lips, her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned on her heels, fleeing without a second glance.

Arthur didn’t go after her. Instead, he offered me a warm smile, his voice gentle as he reassured me it was nothing.

Yet, in the next breath, he shattered me.

He plastered my most intimate photos across the internet just to soothe Isla’s wounded pride.

Before this, he had held my hand so tenderly, whispering, "Once you meet Isla, we’ll arrange for our parents to meet and talk about marriage."

But if he truly wanted to marry me, why would he do this?

Had it all been a lie? Had every I love you he whispered over the past four years been nothing more than empty words?

Then, a drunken conversation resurfaced in my mind, one of Arthur’s friends laughingly slurring out a truth I had been too blind to see:

"If Arthur didn’t have to pretend Isla was his sister, do you really think it’d be your turn to be called our sister-in-law?"

A sharp pain spread through my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

I didn’t know how I made it out of that hotel. As soon as I stepped outside, I felt the sharp, judgmental stares filled with ridicule.

Shame pressed down on me, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my trembling form like a second skin. My fingers shook as I dialed my parents' number, my last lifeline.

Because of their work, they left every three years for classified research abroad, unreachable by anyone.

But today, of all days, their experiment had just ended.

The moment the call connected, their familiar voices broke through my fragile composure, shattering the dam I had desperately tried to hold.

I cried until my chest ached and my sobs turned silent. Then, with trembling fingers, I wiped my tears away.

"Mom, Dad... I’ve made my decision. I want to join you in your research. I want to do something meaningful with my life."

Before, I had let Arthur’s whims dictate my choices. A simple complaint, a careless "I don’t want you too far from me. I’d be miserable without you." and I had abandoned my dream without hesitation.

But now, I was done sacrificing myself for a love that never existed.

I had convinced myself that as long as my relationship with Arthur remained steady, it wouldn’t be so bad to build a future with him.

But I had been a fool.

He never loved me.

Someone who truly loved me would never stand by and let me be humiliated, reduced to nothing more than a passing joke for others to sneer at.

I had been blind and naïve.

But at least I still had a way out.

I numbly made my way back to my apartment. The moment I stepped inside, the cold emptiness hit me; Arthur hadn’t been back.

The smart home system detected the harsh glare of the outside light and without hesitation, the curtains slid shut. Shadows swallowed the room, deepening the exhaustion pressing down on me.

I sank onto the carpet, my body heavy with weariness.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came.

Then, a sharp ringtone shattered the silence.

I glanced at the screen. Arthur.

I answered.

"Where are you?"

I parted my lips, but my throat was so dry it burned.

"Home."

"Isla is hosting a gathering and insisted that I bring you along. Are you free? Get ready; I’ll pick you up."

Before I could refuse, Arthur hung up.

He arrived quickly. Even when he saw I hadn’t changed, he only let out a soft sigh.

"I saw the photos online. Don’t overthink it. I believe you, okay?"

As he spoke, he pulled a dress from the wardrobe, one that cinched at the waist, designed to flatter.

"Be good, change into this. It’s not polite to keep everyone waiting."

As he reached out to remove my coat, I suddenly lifted my hand, catching his wrist in a firm grip.

"What exactly do you believe?"

I thought of what I had overheard at the hotel. My voice came colder this time.

"Arthur, how are you planning to play this act with Beatrice?"

Arthur didn’t respond, but suddenly, his phone played Isla’s voice.

"Of course, we’ll make everyone, including her, question whether she was actually being indecent. As for you, Arthur, you’ll step in as her savior when she’s at her lowest. That way, your relationship stays intact and I get my revenge. Arthur, is that okay?"

A long pause followed before Arthur answered, his tone indulgent.

"Okay."

Soon after, my private photos spread across the internet, labeled as promiscuous.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"What is it that you believe?"

I yanked the dress from his hands and tossed it aside, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

"I’m not going. Go enjoy yourself."

Arthur frowned, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face, as expected.

"Beatrice! Stop being so difficult!"

"Isla saw what happened online. She planned this gathering to help you relax. She also wants to take the opportunity to apologize to you properly."

His fingers brushed over the bruises on the back of my hand.

"This is Isla’s kindness. Don’t be ungrateful."

In the end, I was dragged out the door.

Just before stepping out of the car, I reached into my pocket for a mask, but Arthur stopped me.

His gaze was steady and gentle, like a savior reaching out to the abandoned.

"You don’t need it. The innocent has nothing to fear. I believe you, so believe in yourself, too, okay?"

Before I could react, he tossed the mask out the window and pulled me out of the car.

The moment we stepped into the bar, the air shifted.

The music throbbed, but conversations faltered. All eyes turned to me.

Drunken gazes swept over me, crawling like filth against my skin.

Low whispers slithered through the crowd, unfiltered, venomous.

"Look, look! That’s her, right? She acts all cold and elegant, but who knew she was such a slut behind closed doors?"

"Yeah, that’s her! I’d recognize that face anywhere. Damn, she really looks the part, an absolute whore."

Laughter exploded around me, sharp and cruel.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. But I locked my spine, forcing myself to stand tall.

Arthur’s grip tightened as he pulled me into a private room.

The moment we stepped inside, Arthur let go of my hand.

I dropped my gaze, staring at the tips of my shoes, my heart hammering against my ribs. I searched for a sense of familiarity, for anything to ground me.

But there was nothing.

The eyes in this room were worse, sticky, shameless, suffocating.

"I don’t feel well. I want to leave."

I turned, desperate to escape, but a hand clamped around my wrist.

A rough thumb brushed against my skin, slow and deliberate, sending a sickening wave of goosebumps across my body.

I looked up straight into the leering face of one of Arthur’s friends. The same one who had been the loudest when mocking me at the hotel.

His gaze was brazen, shameless.

"Leaving so soon, sis-in-law? We finally got together; how could you not stay and have a little fun with us?"

The implication dripped from his words, thick and vile.

My stomach twisted violently. The air felt thinner. It was getting harder to breathe.

Isla peeked out from behind her; her smile was pure, innocent and deceptive.

"What are you guys doing? You’re scaring my future sister-in-law!"

With a forceful tug, she yanked me from the doorway, dragging me into the center of the private room. The overhead light bore down on me, harsh and unrelenting, making me feel even more exposed.

I lifted my gaze straight to Arthur.

He sat in the corner, absentmindedly swirling the wine in his glass, his expression unreadable. His eyes skimmed lazily over the scene unfolding before him, detached, indifferent.

For a fleeting second, our eyes met.

And he smiled.

Soft. Familiar. Just as gentle as ever.

Yet it was this very man who had turned me into a rat, scurrying through the streets, drowning in disgrace.

A glass of wine appeared before me, cutting off my line of sight.

Isla’s bright smile was fixed on me, syrupy sweet, yet it sent ice through my veins.

"Sister Beatrice, about yesterday. I was careless with the injection and made you uncomfortable. I want to take this chance to apologize. If you drink this glass of wine, let’s call it even, okay?"

I let out a slow breath, my fingers curling at my sides.

"And what about those indecent photos online...?"

She feigned innocence, her delicate fingers scrolling across her phone screen before tilting it toward me. Her soft voice carried a deliberate hesitation, every word dripping with careful malice.

"By the way, sister-in-law, is this really you? If it is, then who took these photos…? You wouldn’t have done this behind my brother’s back, would you…?"

"But it doesn’t matter. I believe you and I’m sure my brother believes you too! Come on, drink up, Sister Beatrice. A drink can wash away all worries!"

The room burst into laughter, filled with whistles and jeers. Her carefree act had worked, stirring them up with ease. Even Arthur finally spoke, his voice tinged with helplessness but also amusement.

"Isla, don’t drink too much. You’re a nurse. You should know alcohol is bad for your health."

She pouted, eyes gleaming with amusement as she pushed the glass toward me once more.

"In that case, Sister Beatrice, please drink on my behalf."

The room quieted, every gaze landing on me, expectant.

I opened my mouth to refuse, but Arthur beat me to it. His voice was smooth, composed, yet absolute.

"Go ahead and drink. Consider it a sister-in-law covering for her little sister-in-law."

I froze.

The one being toasted was now drinking on behalf of the one making the toast; how laughable.

At last, I saw Arthur’s true face in this relationship.

All those moments when he seemed to put me first had never meant anything. He had never truly cared. That was why he never argued, never refused. It wasn’t a consideration. It was indifference.

Swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat, I took the glass.

"If I drink this, can I leave? I'm tired. I want to go home and rest."

Arthur hesitated, but at Isla’s quiet cough, he gave a nod.

The liquor burned as it slid down, scorching its way through me. My stomach twisted in protest, but I set the glass down and turned toward the door.

No one stopped me.

Fingers brushing the handle, I barely had a second to react before my body buckled, collapsing without warning.

The room erupted. Cheers, whistles, a frenzy of voices closing in around me.

A suffocating wave of discomfort crashed over me, my limbs trembling, my vision blurring at the edges. Even my breath came in ragged, uneven gasps.

Realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. Through the gaps in the crowd, my gaze locked onto Arthur, calmly peeling an orange for Isla as if nothing was amiss.

"You… you drugged me with them?"

A man crouched beside me, his presence suffocating. He took a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling a thick ring of smoke into my face.

The cold metal of his lighter tapped against my cheek, once, twice. A taunting reminder of my powerlessness.

"This little concoction is called ‘Obedience Water.’ As the name suggests, once it’s in your system, you’ll follow every order given to you. Arthur went through quite the trouble to get it, all to make Isla happy."

His smirk deepened.

"After all, whose fault is it that you were blind enough to cross Isla? How many times have we warned you? Isla is Arthur’s most treasured person. But you just wouldn’t listen. You even had the audacity to make her cry and expect an apology from her?"

A sneer curled at the corner of his lips.

"Did you really think you deserved to hear an apology from Isla? You brought this on yourself. Now, let’s see just how obedient you can be… Sister-in-law."