"And, Dad," Venice added softly, "you'll come back for my wedding with Adam, won't you?"

On the other end of the line, her father chuckled warmly.

"Venice, you're my only daughter. Of course, I'll be there."

He paused, then sighed. "But your call came a bit suddenly. I've still got work to finish here, so I probably can't fly out immediately. I'll land in Los Angeles in about seven days."

When the call ended, Venice finally exhaled, the tension in her chest easing slightly.

Her mother had died young, and her father was all she had left in this world.

But she knew Kevin far too well. His love had always been a kind of possession—deep, obsessive, and suffocating. He would never let her go easily.

If he suspected even once that she wanted to leave him again, he would lock her up without hesitation.

Her father was thousands of miles away. No one could protect her now.

So for the next seven days, she had to play her part perfectly—to remain the mute café owner trapped in the gilded cage Kevin had built for her.

Venice climbed back into bed, curling up with her little dog. Exhaustion finally pulled her under.

She didn't know how long she slept before a sharp noise downstairs jolted her awake.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a familiar silhouette standing at the doorway.

Stefanie.

The woman who had just been announced as Kevin's fiancée was now barking orders at the servants, pointing imperiously toward Venice's room.

"Move my things in here," Stefanie said with a proud tilt of her chin.

When she noticed Venice standing by the staircase, Stefanie sauntered over, her lips curving into a delicate smile.

"I'll be taking this room," she said sweetly.

Venice's gaze turned cold. She raised her hands and signed calmly, [There are plenty of guest rooms here. Pick another one.]

Stefanie leaned closer until her breath brushed against Venice's ear, her voice a silken whisper laced with venom.

"What's the problem? You're just Kevin's housekeeper, aren't you? A servant doesn't live in the master bedroom."

Her smile widened. "I'm Kevin's godsister—and his fiancée. You're a mute café girl. What right do you have to compete with me?"

Before Venice could even respond, Stefanie suddenly let out a shrill scream and tumbled backward down the stairs.

Thud!

Her forehead slammed against the railing, swelling instantly.

"Venice!"

Kevin burst in from outside, his eyes cold and sharp.

"Didn't you promise me you'd get along with Stefanie? You couldn't even last a day before causing trouble?"

Venice immediately began signing, [It wasn't me.]

But Kevin didn't even glance at her hands. His attention was entirely on the trembling woman in his arms.

"Kevin..." Stefanie whimpered pitifully, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Didn't you say Miss Robles was just your housekeeper? I only asked her to tidy up and make space for me. Was that so wrong?"

Her voice cracked. "Maybe I should just leave... Miss Robles seems so angry. I'm scared..."

Kevin tightened his hold around her, soothing her gently. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. I'll handle it."

Then he turned to Venice, his expression hard as steel. "When you make a mistake, you take your punishment. Take her to the cold storage."

Before she could resist, two bodyguards grabbed her, ignoring her frantic gestures. They stripped off her coat and shoved her into the freezing chamber.

The air was sharp as knives, and the temperature was negative twenty degrees.

By midnight, Kevin stood outside the frosted glass window, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. Through the haze of smoke, his eyes were still dangerously beautiful, but his words cut colder than the air.

"I told you to be patient. Why do you always have to disappoint me?"

Be patient.

The same words he'd whispered years ago, when his hand had brushed over the scars he'd left on her back, his eyes full of guilt and tenderness.

"Venice, I swear I'll never fail you."

Now, those same eyes looked at her as if she were nothing.

When they finally dragged her out, her limbs were stiff and numb, her skin pale as snow.

She could barely stand when she saw the next blow waiting for her—all her belongings had been thrown into the backyard like trash.

Stefanie stood beside the pile, smiling sweetly.

"Miss Robles, I'm so sorry. Your things were taking up too much space, and I may have accidentally cleared them out."

She tilted her head innocently. "How much were they worth? I'll compensate you."

She's the only daughter of the world's richest person. She could buy as much as she wanted!

Venice's fingers moved slowly. [Don't bother.]

But the moment she turned away, her eyes froze.

Dangling around Stefanie's neck was a pendant—a simple silver locket.

Her pendant.

Venice's pupils contracted sharply.

That necklace wasn't expensive, but what was inside it was priceless—a small vial of her mother's ashes.

Her hand shot out, grabbing Stefanie's wrist, trembling with fury.

[Where did you get that necklace?!]

Stefanie's eyes lit up as she pulled her wrist free and leaned forward, showing off the necklace around her neck.

"I found it in your room," she said smugly. "When Kevin heard I liked it, he gave it to me right away."

She tilted her head, her smile was sweet. "Tell me, Miss Robles—does it look good on me?"

Venice froze, her entire body going cold as if she'd fallen into an ice pit.

That necklace... Kevin knew it was hers—one of the few things she cherished most. And yet he'd given it away so casually.

Her face went pale, but she forced herself to stay calm, her fingers moving in deliberate, sharp gestures.

[That's mine. Please give it back.]

[You can have everything else, but not that necklace.]

Stefanie chuckled softly, the corners of her lips curving in mock pity.

"Oh? But Kevin already gave it to me. It's mine now." Her tone turned playful, cruel. "If you want it back... beg me for it."

Their eyes locked for a long second. Then Venice slowly lowered her head.

She took a step back and bowed deeply, her trembling hands spelling out the words.

[Please. I'm begging you. Give it back.]

Stefanie's smile widened. "No. I think I'll keep it. It suits me."

Something inside Venice snapped. She lunged forward, her fingers tightening around Stefanie's throat, desperate to retrieve the necklace.

"What are you doing, Venice?!"

Kevin's voice thundered across the hall as he strode in, instantly pulling Stefanie behind him.

She buried her face against his chest, feigning fear, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing.

"Kevin... Miss Robles tried to snatch the necklace you gave me... She got so angry... Maybe I should just return it to her..."

Kevin's gaze turned sharp, his tone icy. "It's just a necklace. I gave it to Stefanie—what's the problem? Venice, must you always be this petty?"

Venice stared at him, disbelief flooding her chest.

[Kevin, you know that necklace—my mother's—]

"Enough!" he cut her off impatiently.

"If you want it so badly, name a price. I'll buy it from you."

He tore a check from his book, scribbled a number, and thrust it toward her. "This should be enough to buy an apartment in Los Angeles. With what you earn selling coffee, could you ever afford a necklace like that?"

Each word drove another nail into her heart. Venice took the check, stared at it blankly, and tore it to shreds.

Kevin frowned. "Fine. You refused it yourself. Don't come crying to me later."

Her eyes were red, her body trembling violently.

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—maybe guilt, maybe irritation, but he quickly smothered it.

"Come here," he ordered coldly. "Apologize to Stefanie."

Venice froze. [You want me to apologize to her?]

"I won't say it again. Apologize," Kevin repeated.

[No.] Her hands moved with defiance. [What will you threaten me with this time? My dog? My cat?]

He didn't even glance at her. "Take her outside," he ordered the guards. "Teach her what happens when someone forgets their place."

Two towering bodyguards seized Venice by the arms and dragged her out into the courtyard.

One kicked the back of her legs, forcing her down—straight onto burning coals.

The sound of sizzling flesh filled the air.

She opened her mouth to scream, but a harsh slap struck her face, cutting the sound short.

Her ears rang; the world tilted.

In the haze, she remembered another time.

When someone had caused trouble in her café, Kevin had stood before her protectively. "Venice, don't be afraid. I'll protect you for life. No one will ever hurt you."

Another slap landed.

Then another.

By the time the ninety-ninth blow fell, Venice's consciousness was fading, her skin was scorched, her cheeks swollen beyond recognition.

She no longer felt pain—only an empty, echoing numbness.

From somewhere distant, she heard Kevin's voice. "Stefanie, how do you feel now? Is your anger gone?"

Stefanie let out a delicate laugh, pounding lightly on his chest. "Make it an even hundred."

Seconds later, the final slap landed.

A dark trickle of blood slipped from Venice's lips—and the world went black.

When Venice opened her eyes again, the blinding white hospital lights stabbed at her vision.

The air reeked of disinfectant—cold, sterile, and painfully familiar.

She tried to move her fingers, just slightly, but even that small motion startled the man slumped beside her bed.

Kevin's eyes were bloodshot, his face weary and haggard. It looked as though he hadn't slept all night.

When he saw her awake, a heavy breath of relief escaped his lips. "Venice, you're finally awake."

His tone softened, gentle, coaxing.

"I know you're angry," he murmured, "but no matter what, you shouldn't have laid hands on Stefanie. I need the Cervantes family's support—Stefanie is a important part of that plan."

Then, in a voice that tried to sound tender, he added, "But remember this, Venice. No matter what I do, I only love you. Everything I'm doing is to help you enter the McAuliffe family sooner."

Venice stared up at the white ceiling, silent. The words reached her ears but not her heart.

Just as Kevin was about to say more, his phone rang sharply.

Through the receiver came Stefanie's delicate, tearful voice. "Kevin... I think I'm having an allergic reaction. My skin is all covered in rashes..."

[Go take care of her.] Venice's eyes were hollow as her fingers formed the words.

Kevin hesitated only a second before standing.

"I'll have one of the maids come and look after you," he said softly. "Rest well."

But no one came.

For days, Venice lay alone in the ward, enduring the pain that clawed through her body.

Every night, her knees throbbed and itched with unbearable intensity. And every morning, the nurse would peel open her scabbed wounds to apply new medication without no anesthesia. She fainted more than once from the agony.

Worse than the physical pain were the photos that arrived every single day.

Stefanie's messages came like clockwork—each one more taunting than the last.

Kevin feeding her soup, peeling her apples, pressed her against the hospital bed, kissing her neck.

Venice scrolled through them one by one until her heart stopped hurting entirely.

Then she typed a single message. [You don't need to show me these. Kevin is yours now. Keep him.]

Almost instantly, another message came through.

[Still want the necklace? Come and get it.]

Without wasting another next second, Venice got out of bed. She didn't even bother with her coat and just ran out.

Every step tore at the stitches in her legs, but she didn't care.

She sprinted through the sterile corridors, blood seeping through her bandages, until she reached the top floor's VIP ward.

When she burst through the door, Stefanie was already waiting, lounging gracefully on the sofa.

"Miss Robles," she greeted sweetly. "You made it."

Panting hard, Venice still forced herself to stay composed, signing, [Where is it? Give it back!]

Stefanie dangled the necklace in her palm, the silver charm gleaming faintly under the light.

"Relax. It's safe," she said with a smirk. "But that's no way to ask for a favor, is it?"

Venice's nails dug deep into her palms. Her chest rose and fell as she fought to stay calm.

[What do you want?]

"I'm craving seafood porridge," Stefanie said lazily. "From that shop on Wilshire Blvd."

Venice's lips tightened. After a long pause, she nodded and turned to leave. The porridge shop on Wilshire Blvd had a two-hour line.

Her leg wound hadn't healed, and the gauze soon turned crimson again. But she gritted her teeth and endured it—she had to get her mother's ashes back.

The first time she brought it, Stefanie wrinkled her nose. "Not fresh enough. I want pickled vegetable porridge instead."

The second time she said, "Too salty. I want century egg porridge."

The third time, she smiled slyly. "Oh, I forgot—I'm allergic to century eggs. Bring me noodles."

...

By the tenth trip, Stefanie sighed theatrically. "Actually, let's go back to the seafood porridge."

By then, Venice's legs were soaked with blood. Still, she limped all the way back to the VIP ward, clutching the steaming bowl.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, laughter drifted out from inside.

"Kevin, did you really make this porridge yourself?"

Kevin's deep voice replied, warm and indulgent. "Yes. I cooked it for two hours. My princess, have a taste."

Venice heard the sound of him blowing on the spoon, feeding it to her.

The bowl in her hands slipped and shattered with a sharp clang.

The smell of seafood filled the hall, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

She stumbled back, her knees buckling—and a passing doctor caught her just in time.

One glance at her, and the color drained from his face.

"Young Miss?!" he blurted in shock. "What on earth are you doing here?"