The "compensation" Kurt promised never happened.

These past few days, he stayed glued to Olivia's side.

If he wasn't "helping her get a new ID," he was "accompanying her to school to handle paperwork."

Every day they came home together looking like an ordinary couple.

And every evening, he would hand me a small cake—a token apology, a prop to placate me.

He hadn't called me "little sister" in a long time.

But these days, he said it constantly, avoiding words like "baby" on purpose.

I noticed every change.

My heart stung a little, yet my determination to leave grew firmer by the day.

I prepared the supplies I would bring to Africa.

Using my own savings, I bought a house in a city far away from him.

I even went back to the old house I once vowed never to return to... and dug out the surveillance footage I'd spent all my money to obtain back in high school—the video of Kurt pushing my father down the stairs.

While I was drawing out my path to freedom step by step, my phone suddenly rang.

The caller was one of Kurt's friends, his voice shattered with panic. "Daniella! Come quick! Kurt is drunk—he's allergic to alcohol! If you don't come, something will—"

Before I could respond, he hung up.

I froze.

My heart clenched so tightly it hurt to breathe.

After all, we had depended on each other for more than ten years.

I couldn't truly let him destroy himself. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, "...Just one last time."

I carried my plane ticket in my bag and rushed to the private room.

But the moment I pushed open the door, I stopped dead.

Kurt was sitting neatly on the sofa, clothes spotless, expression calm. His hands were steady.

There were no wine glasses on the table. Only juice.

The people around him all stiffened when they saw me.

Their eyes looked at me like I was some joke they had summoned for entertainment—surprised, uncomfortable, impatient... and threaded with a pity that cut deeper than disgust.

I understood instantly.

I had been played.

My chest felt like it had been struck by a blunt weapon.

I stepped back, ready to leave.

But just then, someone spoke up. "So this is Kurt's little sister? Wow, you've grown."

I forced a polite smile.

If this were before, I would've run over happily, chatting with them like old friends—because I used to believe they were just like Kurt, that they treated me as family.

But now—I could feel it clearly: hidden beneath their gazes was an unmistakable layer of disdain.

Some looked at me with emotions barely restrained: contempt, suspicion, wariness—as if I were some troublesome stray dragged in from nowhere.

They believed Olivia's story about being "bullied."

They thought I had inherited my parents' "violent genes."

They looked at me like I was a walking problem.

Needles pricked all over my skin.

Worse still—I couldn't explain.

Not yet.

Not until the truth came out in three days.

Right now, I had to pretend I knew nothing of their hostility. So I swallowed every ounce of injustice, as if swallowing burning stones.

A senior who had always treated me kindly pulled me over. "Since you're here, sit with us."

Her motions looked natural, but I could feel her grip was tighter than before—as if she feared I might suddenly cause trouble.

Kurt added gently, "Sit. We're just about to eat."

His tone was the same as always, but his eyes... his eyes were distant, veiled with something unreadable.

Different from before.

I realized he must have heard from Arturo that I was planning to leave.

I tugged the corner of my lips and let the senior guide me to a seat.

The room was filled with laughter, and his classmates talked around me as if I didn't exist.

"Back then, Kurt and Olivia really were a great match."

"They almost ended up together, right? Too bad her parents were against it."

"I heard she messed up her college entrance exam around that time..."

My knuckles whitened as I clenched my hands under the table.

They weren't even lowering their voices.

Each sentence sliced into me like a blade.

The more I listened, the clearer the truth became.

After Olivia "confessed," she and Kurt only grew closer. Teachers and classmates practically treated them as a couple. Until her parents stepped in and tore them apart.

They even spoke to Kurt personally. Only then did he distance himself from her.

After that, she failed her college exams and went abroad...

At this part, some of their expressions turned complicated.

Their eyes swept over me with barely hidden resentment.

I knew exactly what they were thinking, "If Olivia hadn't been bullied, she wouldn't have failed her exams."

"If not for this little sister, those two would've been together already."

"She's the cause of everything."

They didn't say the words, but their eyes had already hurled every accusation at me.

Under the bright lights,

I sat there like a criminal on trial.

A waiter brought out a plate of salted egg yolk pumpkin, gleaming golden under the light.

My favorite dish.

In the past—whether at home or out—the moment it appeared, Kurt would wordlessly serve me a piece.

Today, he picked up his chopsticks as usual.

But halfway through, he changed direction and placed the pumpkin into Olivia's bowl.

She lowered her head shyly and thanked him.

The people around them cheered, teasing her into drinking.

She refused a few times, and then Kurt suddenly took her glass.

"She can't drink. I'll drink for her."

But he was allergic to alcohol— even a sip would leave him flushed, gasping for air.

I knew he was doing it on purpose.

He knew I wouldn't watch him trigger a reaction.

Because I couldn't watch the only family I had die.

My eyes burned. I snatched the glass from him and downed it in one gulp.

"Daniella—"

For some reason, panic flashed across his face.

He reached toward me as if to stop me, but Olivia held onto his arm, and he couldn't get a word out.

The alcohol scorched down my throat into my stomach.

Someone whistled, calling me bold, calling me loyal.

Then more glasses appeared in front of me.

I took them mechanically.

Drink after drink, I gulped down everything.

Kurt frowned, lips parting as if to speak—but his classmates teased him for being "too protective," calling him a "sister-obsessed fool."

Laughter drowned him out. He lowered his head awkwardly, unable to say a thing.

Still playing the role of "helpless," aren't you?

I laughed—and tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes.

The alcohol surged through my veins like a rising tide, flooding my awareness until I could barely stay conscious.

Before they could force another drink on me, I let my body go limp and collapsed on the sofa, pretending to be completely drunk.

The noise around me quieted.

Kurt leaned in, gently patting my cheek. His voice dropped low. "Hey... you okay? Feeling sick?"

His palm was cold, while my face was burning.

I couldn't stop myself—habit made me nuzzle lightly into his hand.

That tiny movement made him freeze.

His eyes wavered—hesitation, guilt, something almost soft. But the moment shattered as one of his classmates snorted.

"I knew it. She's just a loyal little lapdog. Whatever Kurt tells her to do, she does. He really trained her well."

Laughter broke open around us.

"Tomorrow will be a show! When she finds out the truth, she's gonna lose her mind."

Olivia tugged lightly on Kurt's sleeve, her voice soft and fragile. "Maybe... we shouldn't. Isn't this too much? She's still your sister."

Her eyes were perfectly red—enough to look kind, not enough to look fake.

Kurt's classmates immediately chimed in.

"Olivia, you're way too softhearted! After what she did to you back then, you still pity her? No way."

"I won't be soft," Kurt said suddenly.

He pulled Olivia into his arms, shielding her. His tone was colder than I'd ever heard.

"Evil should be repaid with evil."

My nails dug painfully into my palm.

Another voice joined in, sounding almost excited. "Good thing we got that tip from Crown Prince's side early. Otherwise she wouldn't suffer enough. If she doesn't hit rock bottom, how will she realize how good Kurt is to her?"

Someone else added, "And the stuff in the drinks should be working by now. It's about time to send her to the room."

A violent ringing exploded in my skull.

So the drinks... were drugged.

I thought forcing alcohol on me was already the worst they'd do. I didn't expect the alcohol to be spiked.

Their plan was simple yet cruel. They would send me to a hotel room alone, let some "pervert" walk in and destroy me. And at the last second, Kurt would burst in and "save" me.

They wanted me terrified, broken, dependent—unable to leave him ever again.

This was their revenge.

Planned. Calculated. Perfectly orchestrated.

I tried to stand, but my limbs were turning heavy, my head swollen, my stomach twisting with a metallic sourness.

I wanted to vomit but couldn't.

The drug was taking full effect.

My whole body trembled, but I didn't dare move.

Tears slid down my temples, and I couldn't even lift a hand to wipe them.

I could only watch.

Watch Kurt hold Olivia in his arms. Watch him walk step by step toward the door. Watch his silhouette grow farther and farther away—leaving me here to be used, plotted against, thrown into hell.

When the door closed, my heart dropped like a stone into a bottomless pit.

A large man was already waiting beside the bed.

When they pushed me inside, he stepped forward in one giant stride, his shadow swallowing half the room.

I tried to retreat, but my legs were soft as sand.

He reached for me.

I screamed for help—my voice echoing through the room before being smothered by the thick walls.

No one came.

Not a single person.

The man looked down at me, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Relax. At first I was only supposed to put on a show. Someone else would kick the door down later, carry you out, and you'd know who your 'savior' is."

He paused. Then his lips curled. His voice turned disturbingly casual.

"But too bad—you offended someone you shouldn't have. I've been told not to act anymore. So... I'll just cooperate."

A cold numbness shot down my spine.

It was... Olivia.

She wanted to destroy me completely. Only now did I realize how thoroughly I had been trapped.

The man's thick fingers grabbed my collar.

I heard fabric tear.

The sound was like the last shred of my dignity being ripped apart.

"No—!!" My scream tore out as my hand brushed against something on the nightstand—a heavy glass ashtray.

I didn't think, didn't hesitate. I grabbed it and slammed it into his head with everything I had.

There was a dull thud, and the man staggered.

It was my only chance.

I scrambled—almost crawling—toward the window.

My hands shook violently as I forced the latch open.

Cold ocean wind blasted into the room, sharp as knives.

Outside the window, the balcony hung suspended.

Below it—the dark sea churned under the night sky.

I stepped out.

And then I let myself fall.

Fortunately, the hotel staff arrived in time. I was dragged out of the water and saved.

Kurt rushed over almost immediately, pulling me into a tight embrace. His eyes trembled with lingering panic.

"Daniella, you scared me to death! Why would you do something so stupid? If something happened to you, what would I do?"

My throat burned from the seawater I choked on, tears leaking uncontrollably as a reflex.

I listened numbly as Kurt rambled through his explanation—that I'd gotten drunk, they lost track of me for a moment, and some drunken stranger dragged me away.

They had searched everywhere for me. So he said.

I pushed him away, my voice cold and firm. "The hotel has surveillance. I'm reporting him."

But before I could take a step, Kurt blocked me.

He wrapped me back into his arms, coaxing softly, "Daniella, that man is the son of the city's richest tycoon. We... can't afford to offend him. When I have power one day, I'll get justice for you, I swear."

I closed my eyes, tears spilling like snapped beads, my heart filling with an icy hopelessness.

I almost died, and even so—Kurt would rather protect his own lie than make the man who almost assaulted me pay.

"Come on, let me take you to Disneyland, okay? Didn't we say we'd go together when we grew up?"

"Trust me. Soon, we won't have to live like this..."

He clumsily changed the subject. Before he finished, one of his friends rushed over.

"Kurt, Olivia fainted from the shock!"

Kurt's expression instantly shifted.

Without thinking, he shoved me into the arms of a hotel staff member.

"Daniella, I'll take you to Disneyland tomorrow. Go with them for a checkup—I'll come find you later!"

"Kurt!" I couldn't help shouting his name, but all he did was drop a perfunctory kiss on my forehead before rushing away.

I watched his disappearing figure—and finally vomited all over the ground.

A cruel realization twisted in my chest:

If the one assaulted had been Olivia, Kurt would've torn the world apart to make the perpetrator pay.

I closed my eyes, ripped off the amulet we'd bought together, and threw it into the ocean where it vanished.

And the so-called "compensation trip" to Disneyland?

It wasn't just the two of us.

He brought Olivia.

"Olivia is not feeling well. I can't leave her alone. She'll just tag along a bit—she won't bother us."

"Then I'm not going."

I turned to leave, but Kurt grabbed my arm. His brows tightened with irritation.

"What are you angry about now? Why are you being so unreasonable?"

"Olivia just came back today and wants to get along with you. She's trying. Why can't you?"

Before I could even respond, he pulled me toward the door with a force that made me freeze.

It reminded me of Arturo—and instantly extinguished all my resistance.

In the car, both Olivia and I sat in the backseat.

But she suddenly shrank back, looking up at me with tear-filled fear, like I might hurt her.

Kurt paused only one second before opening the front passenger seat.

"Olivia, sit here."

She glanced at me once, her eyes gleaming with smugness, then obediently slid into the seat.

My fingers clenched quietly in my sleeve.

When Kurt bought this car, he tossed me the keys with a gentle smile. "The front passenger seat is only for my Daniella, okay?"

But now even that belonged to someone else.

I blinked my numb eyes and turned to the window. I agreed to come to Disneyland because when we were kids, Kurt said he'd take me there someday—that it would mark a new beginning.

I'd held onto that promise for years.

But now... if I couldn't refuse, then I would treat today as our final goodbye.

The park buzzed with people, laughter everywhere. But I felt like I was trapped behind a glass wall, only watching the silhouettes of Kurt and Olivia walking ahead.

All the way, they stayed side by side.

"What do you want to play first, Olivia?" She pointed; he bought the tickets immediately.

Whatever she wanted to eat, he queued without complaint.

I followed behind, like a piece of air tagging along.

A staff member saw them standing together and smiled warmly.

"You two have such a lovely relationship. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!"

Kurt stiffened. His gaze flicked toward me. But in the end, he said nothing.

Only when Olivia went to the restroom did he walk over.

"She's a foreign worker. She doesn't understand. No need to explain."

"I know."

He frowned, like he finally noticed I wasn't tailing behind him as usual.

It seemed being ignored made him uncomfortable. He even had the ridiculous illusion that I was like a kite—and if he loosened the string for even a second, I'd fly away.

He opened his mouth to speak—but Olivia emerged from the restroom, calling sweetly, "Kurt, I want ice cream."

"Okay, I'll buy it." He swallowed whatever he meant to say and walked off, leaving me alone with her.

Olivia studied me for several seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"Daniella, confused, aren't you?" She leaned close, voice dripping with malice. "Wondering why your brother is hot and cold with you?"

I stayed silent.

She didn't mind. Her tone turned almost playful. "Because he thinks you inherited trash genes and wants to 'fix' you. To you, he's probably the most important person in the world, right?"

"But to me? Kurt is just one of the men around me. If you kneel and kowtow a few times, I might even return your precious brother to you."

She watched my face eagerly, waiting for it to break.

She hadn't changed since high school—she still delighted in ripping away what others treasured most.

My eyes flickered. My voice was steady. "Kurt is just one of your men?"

She laughed lightly. "Of course. What else? He's just a decent-looking orphan. In high school, I teased him a little—pretended to turn myself in to help him—and he treated me like his savior. He never knew I was the one who orchestrated his bullying. He still thinks I was brave to stand by him."

She paused, then smirked. "Oh, and do you know why he believed your child wasn't his? Why he forced you to abort it? Because I told him I saw you sleeping with Arturo at a hotel. I said it casually, and he believed it. Isn't that hilarious?"

"You—!" My vision blurred red. I lost control and grabbed her collar in a tight fist.

That innocent child's death was my lifelong wound.

I could endure her destroying me—but the fact that my baby died because of her casual lie...

Olivia's grin sharpened like a blade. "So what? It was just a lump of flesh. A puddle of mud."