"Don’t worry, it’s a very small request. You’ll definitely agree," Sheena flatly said.

Stephen was about to retort, but Amanda stopped him.

Though her health wasn’t the best, the entire Brooks family had risen from her parents’ legacy, and even now, all the children carried her surname. As a result, her words often carried more weight than Christopher’s, her husband.

Looking at her daughter, who had grown so unfamiliar, Amanda felt a pang of bitterness in her heart.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "As long as you’re willing to go in Jasmin’s place, I’ll give you whatever you ask for."

Hearing what she said, Sheena mentally scoffed. So, all these years, the family love she had desperately sought had been nothing but a cruel joke.

Biting her lip, she said nothing more and quietly left the room.

Jasmin was successfully rescued.

For a short time, the room was filled with sobs and words of comfort.

Even Christopher, who was usually stern and composed, hurried to Jasmin’s bedroom after seeing off the guests, his face full of concern for his beloved youngest daughter.

When he bumped into Sheena at the corner, he didn’t spare her a single glance.

Caught off guard, Sheena lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her ankle quickly swelled.

The evening breeze stung her skin, and Sheena couldn't help but inhale sharply.

"Sheena, are you alright?"

Travis suddenly appeared in front of her, reaching out to help her up.

As he leaned closer, Sheena caught the faint scent of gardenia perfume on him—Jasmin’s perfume.

Gardenias had once been her favorite.

Travis had always gone out of his way to find all sorts of gardenia-themed gifts for her. But shortly after returning to the Brooks family, Jasmin had managed to break all those gifts with various excuses.

When Sheena angrily confronted Jasmin, Travis stopped her. "Jasmin didn’t mean to do that. In the end, those were just trinkets. If you like, I can get you more."

At that time, Sheen believed him but she never received anything else from him.

Instead, not long ago, Jasmin flaunted a bottle of gardenia-scented perfume in front of her. "Sheena, you’re so useless! Your family doesn’t want you, and now even your fiancé doesn’t want you!"

Sheena felt a pang in her chest and stepped back, forcing herself to stand without Travis’ help.

His hand hung awkwardly mid-air, and his face turned sour. "Sheena, I know you’re upset about going to the Wilson family for Jasmin’s sake. But I’ve already promised to marry you. What more do you want?"

"Jasmin is your sister. What’s wrong with helping her? Do you have to be so narrow-minded?"

Sheena felt a surge of anger that she couldn’t suppress. Her voice turned sharp as she retorted, "Being forced to act as a scapegoat and take her punishment—am I supposed to be grateful for that?"

Hearing this, Travis raised his voice as well. "Jasmin didn’t do it on purpose! And besides, it’s just a trip to the Wilson family. What’s the big deal?"

"If it’s no big deal, then why can’t Jasmin go herself?" Sheena clapped back.

Travis fell silent, his face growing even darker. "You’re being unreasonable. There’s no point in talking to you anymore!"

In the end, Sheena returned to her room alone.

Calling it a "room" was generous—it was worse than the servants’ quarters.

Compared to Jasmin’s bright and spacious princess-style bedroom, hers was a stark contrast.

She stayed in a damp, dark basement, surrounded by cement walls with no windows. The bathroom was so far away that every night, she had to carry a flashlight and nervously traverse a long, unlit hallway just to relieve herself.

Because her swollen ankle hurt so much, Sheena walked slowly all the way back to her small bed, and only then did she finally wipe away all the tears from her face.

In the dim light, Sheena carefully packed up everything in her room.

When she was done, she realized just how little she owned: a few pieces of clothing, a handful of books, a family photo, and a necklace.

The family photo was taken before Jasmin came to live with them. Her parents had brought her and Stephen to a sunflower garden for the photo. In it, Sheena’s small figure nestled in her mother’s arms, her tiny hands tightly wrapped around her mother’s neck, radiating deep attachment.

Her father stood to the side with his usual stern expression. Stephen, however, smiled with arched brows, posing like a knight protecting her. His right hand, half-hidden, was cheekily tugging at the corner of her dress.

It was the only thing Sheena had taken with her when she was sent to the countryside.

For years, this photo had been her token, the proof she clung to in order to convince herself that her parents and brother still loved her. Someday, they would be a happy family again, just like in that picture.

But now, that dream was utterly shattered.

Sheena took the photo out of its frame, ripped it into tiny pieces, and tossed them into the trash.

As for the necklace, it was a gift from Travis. A small, unremarkable trinket from a village market. The pearl had long since faded, and the chain was tarnished and dull. Yet Sheena had treasured it like a precious heirloom.

She held onto it because when Travis gave it to her, he had declared with unwavering conviction, "This is our token of love. Sheena, wait for me. I promise to make you the happiest bride in the world!"

Perhaps because the necklace was so old and cheap, it was the only thing that Jasmin hadn’t bothered to destroy. But now, Sheena didn’t want it anymore.

She slipped the necklace into her pocket, thinking that no matter how worthless it was, it was still a gift from Travis. Since she didn’t want it anymore, she should at least return it to him before leaving.

With that thought in mind, Sheena fell into a restless sleep.

When she woke up, Stephen’s furious face was looming over her. "Sheena, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?"

Her leg had throbbed all night, leaving her with a splitting headache. She had no energy to deal with him.

Her silence only fueled Stephen’s anger. He grabbed her and dragged her out of bed, pulling her all the way to the dining room.

Once he roughly threw her to the floor, he shouted again, "Look at what you’ve done!"

Sheena glanced at the empty dining table, utterly baffled as to what he was so enraged about.

Just then, Jasmin walked in wearing a pretty princess dress, covering her mouth in a mock surprise, "Sis, why didn’t you make breakfast for us?"

'Ah, so that was it.' Sheena thought.

In the past, Sheena had bent over backward to please the Brooks family. She had carefully observed everyone’s preferences, waking up three hours early every morning to prepare breakfast for them.

But today, she hadn’t done it.

Jasmin pouted, pretending to be upset. "But I love the breakfast that sister makes the most."

While comforting Jasmin, Stephen turned his fury back on Sheena. "You know perfectly well that Jasmin loves the breakfast you make, yet you deliberately didn’t cook today. How could you be so cruel?"

So it was all about breakfast—something entirely inconsequential to anyone else.

Suddenly, Sheena couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh? But in five days—no, four now—I’ll be sent to the Wilson family to bear their punishment. Will you drag me back from there just to make breakfast for you?” Sheena indifferently retorted.

At that instant, the dining room fell into a sudden, oppressive silence.

After a moment, it was Jasmin who broke the quiet, her voice trembled as she sniffled. “Sis, you’re not skipping breakfast because of the Wilson family thing, are you? If that’s the case, then I’ll go take the punishment instead!”

With that, she turned to run outside.

Stephen hurriedly grabbed her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “If someone has to die at the Wilson family, it should be Sheena! How could it be you?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Stephen froze, stunned at his own cruelty.

'She’s my sister too...' he muttered inwardly.

Instantly, Sheena’s eyes turned ice-cold, as if looking at a sworn enemy. “Stephen, I will never waste another ounce of emotion on someone as vile as you for the rest of my life!”

Her words shattered the fleeting guilt in Stephen’s heart. His face twisted in anger. “Fine! Sheena, you’re really something!”

He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the storage room, slamming the door shut.

Before locking it, Stephen spat out his final words, his voice trembling with rage, “Sheena, you can stay there until you come to your senses and agree to make breakfast. If not, then rot in there for all I care!”

With that, he stormed off, taking Jasmin with him. Before leaving, he sternly instructed the servants. “Don’t let her out until she admits she was wrong and cook breakfast!”

What Stephen didn’t know was that Sheena was already running a high fever.

Her sprained ankle, untreated from the night before, had swollen grotesquely. On top of that, her skin had scraped against the rough ground as she was dragged, leaving raw, bleeding wounds.

The searing pain on her scalp from having her hair yanked was now the least of her worries.

At first, Sheena banged on the door and screamed for help. But before long, her strength gave out, and she collapsed unconscious.

The servants, following orders, ignored her silence and they didn’t open the door.

It wasn’t until Amanda casually asked about her that the truth came to light.

Since losing her youngest child, Amanda had suffered from chronic headaches, which had only worsened over the years. But things had slightly improved after Sheena returned from the countryside.

Although Sheena was cautious and distant in the Brooks household, Amanda noticed her daughter often stealing glances at her.

When Sheena discovered her mother’s headaches, she began secretly learning massage techniques during her spare time. Without access to professional instructors, she studied online tutorials instead.

She filled up four or five notebooks with detailed notes and practiced late into the night for two months straight.

To ensure her skills were effective, she tested the techniques on herself repeatedly before shyly suggesting she could help relieve her mother’s pain.

Looking at the daughter she had barely raised, Amanda couldn’t bring herself to refuse and reluctantly agreed.

By sheer luck, Sheena’s massages actually eased her mother’s headaches.

When she saw her mother’s furrowed brows relax, Sheena’s joy was beyond words.

From that day on, she faithfully massaged her mother every evening.

But two days had passed without Sheena showing up.

Suspicious, Amanda sent someone to find her.

They discovered Sheena locked in the storage room, her entire body burning with fever. By the time they carried her out, her breathing was faint and uneven, as if she were clinging to life by a thread.