On the first day I reunite with the wealthy Holloways, as soon as I step into the villa, I'm instantly whisked into a car with tinted windows.

The fake heiress, Kate Holloway, cuts my ID and bank card with a pair of scissors right in front of my biological parents. She grins smugly at me the whole time.

"You see, Rosalie, I've offended that one person who must not be offended at all costs in Ravenfield. You should go kneel in his estate for a few days. Think of this as your way to repay the Hollways for giving birth to you in this world."

My heartless parents even tell the driver, "Make sure that she doesn't escape. It all depends on her whether or not our family will be able to survive this crisis."

The journey to the mysterious man's estate is bumpy. But the scenery outside the window becomes more familiar as time passes.

Finally, the driver stops right outside a well-guarded estate. He reports in a frightened tone, "W-We are here to deliver the girl to Mr. Whitethorn."

Mr. Whitethorn?

As in the powerful man who is prone to mood swings and can easily make families such as the Holloways go into bankruptcy with just a twitch of his finger?

Wait, isn't that Dominic Whitethorn, my adoptive father who has doted on me since I was a little girl?

The Holloways have chosen to make me the scapegoat in order to protect Kate. They probably never would've thought that the fearsome Mr. Whitethorn, who's capable of determining their survival, has scoured the entire city for me because I didn't come home last night.

"Ugh! What a piece of trash! Do you really think you're one of the Holloways? You're nothing but a stray they keep outside. Getting to die in place of Ms. Kate is the kind of luck your miserable life could never earn, no matter how many lifetimes you live."

Inside the cramped van, the bald, scar-faced man spat a thick glob of phlegm right next to my foot. The thugs behind him stared at me as if I were a dead man walking.

I finally understood.

It was no wonder that three days ago, the Holloways had gone all out with their search for their missing daughter.

I thought I was loved. As it turned out, I was just being sold off. They were trading my life for Kate Holloway's. What a truly heart-stirring display of parental love.

"Let me go! Whatever the Holloways are paying you, I'll pay you ten times that!" I yelled.

"Ten times?" Scarface smacked my cheek with the flat of his knife. "With what? With these flea-market rags of yours? Or do you mean…"

The lewd look in his eyes was unmistakable as he brushed his hand over my face, a sleazy grin spreading across his lips.

"Or are you going to let us have some fun first?" he asked, cackling.

Suddenly, he clamped a hand around my throat. "Behave! The person your family crossed is Mr. Whitethorn. If he's pissed, the entire Holloway family will be wiped off the map of Ravenfield, let alone just you."

"Whitethorn? Dominic Whitethorn?" I confirmed, pretending to be terrified. "The person Kate crossed is Dominic Whitethorn from Ravenfield?"

After all this fuss and commotion, they had abducted me to offer me up to my own adoptive father?

In that case, they were truly finished.

The thought made me tremble uncontrollably—half from excitement, half from terror. Excitement because these idiots were marching right toward death's doorstep, and terror because I knew how insanely possessive and cruel Dominic—Dad—could be.

The last maid who'd stolen a pen from me? He had personally torn out her hand and foot tendons and turned them into displays. Even now, they were still displayed in a corner of his study.

And another lackey who had criticized me behind my back, saying that I was "useless and uneducated"? Dad had cut out his tongue, sewn his mouth shut, and left him to starve to death slowly in an iron cage in the underground fight club.

I swallowed a mouthful of coppery-tasting saliva. "Let me go now, and I'll pretend none of this happened."

If the Holloways had shown me even the slightest shred of kindness, then Dad—out of consideration for me—might have spared them.

But now…

Scarface's eyes grew even more vicious as he spat again.

"Fuck! You still have the nerve to negotiate with me? If I let you go, how the hell are my brothers supposed to get their payment?"

Just then, a call came in for Scarface.

"Rest assured," he replied. "We've already 'taken care' of things exactly as you instructed. I guarantee Mr. Whitethorn will never see through it."

After hanging up, they dragged me out of the van like I was roadkill. My hands and feet were secured tightly together with rope, and I was then tied to the rear bumper of the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

Seeing the empty stretch of highway in front of me, a chill ran down my spine. "It's against the law to kill people!"

"To hell with the law!" Scarface snarled, kicking me squarely in the chest. "We're getting paid to do a job. Even God himself couldn't stop me now."

Amid the searing pain, my eyes caught the familiar tattoo of a black dragon on his arm, and a spark of hope ignited inside me.

That was the symbol that I'd designed for Dad's underground organization, the Blackscale Syndicate, when I was eight years old.

The Whitethorns' empire was massive, stretching across the globe and crossing both sides of the law, and the Blackscale Syndicate was in charge of handling the dirty, messy work behind the scenes.

"You're with the Blackscale Syndicate!" I exclaimed.

"Well, well, well, this chick knows her stuff. You even know about us Blackscales, huh?"

"I'm Rosalie, Dominic Whitethorn's daughter. Your leader, Whitefang, is my personal bodyguard. That symbol? I was the one who drew it. Now untie me, and I'll spare your lives!

"Otherwise, you won't be able to handle the Whitethorns' wrath."

The burly men froze for a second, then erupted into raucous laughter.

"You're nuts! Mr. Whitethorn's beloved daughter is Ms. Rosalie Whitethorn. She's as priceless as the moon in the sky. Who the hell are you to impersonate her?"

"I am Rosalie Whitethorn!"

"Aren't you fucking Emilie Holloway?" Scarface spat, looking at me as if I were an idiot. "Still trying to lie to me when you're on death's door? You must have gotten tired of breathing!"

I understood that, at their level, they never had the standing to meet me in person. All they knew was that the Blackscale Syndicate had a "princess" whom they absolutely couldn't afford to offend. And everything I had on me that could prove my identity had been destroyed by Kate.

I never imagined that the members of the Blackscale Syndicate would be this fanatically loyal to an outsider. It seemed that Whitefang was getting far too lax in his management.

I stared Scarface right in the eyes. "Whitefang, the leader of the Blackscale Syndicate… His real name is Joshua Whitethorn."

The smile on Scarface's face froze instantly.

The leader's true name was the highest-level secret known only to the elders. Scarface himself had only discovered this out of sheer luck after taking a bullet for Joshua once.

"Give me your phone," I said coldly.

"If you're lying to me, you're dead," he snarled, before handing the phone over hesitantly.

The air inside the van grew suffocatingly tense. Everyone held their breath.

I dialed the number that had been etched into my very bones.

It rang for a long time. Just before it was about to go to voicemail, someone finally picked up.

"Dad, it's me, Rosie! The Holloways abducted me! I'm on Kingspire Highway right now. Come save me, quick!" I yelled.

"Hello?"

But there was only dead silence on the other end of the line.

"Dad?"

A woman's voice, babbling in Jetulian, came through, and I froze. Why was our Jetulian maid answering Dad's phone?

Scarface snatched the phone from me, his expression contorted with fury.

"You bitch! How dare you play us!"

I struggled desperately. "I didn't! My dad really is Dominic Whitethorn—"

He grabbed me by the hair and slapped me repeatedly. Stars exploded before my eyes, and my mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

The rough asphalt road scraped and ground against my back and legs like a giant file. Large patches of my skin tore open and peeled away, leaving behind a horrifying trail of blood.

"Let me go! I'll die if you keep going!" I screamed. "You dare treat me like this? Dominic and Joshua will tear you all into a thousand pieces!"

The van screeched to a halt, and the immense inertia flung me forward like a broken, bloody ragdoll.

Scarface crouched, looming over me. "You're still talking back? It looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet!"

That was when Scarface noticed the way I instinctively protected my hands.

"No! Don't!" I screamed.

His boot came down hard on my fingers. The sharp, sickening crack of bones breaking rang out clearly, making my scalp crawl.

He ground each finger under his heel, as if he were crushing ants.

"I was wrong… Please, I'm begging you… Let me go…"

As a painter, my hands were everything to me.

"Too late," he said, sneering.

He grabbed my hair and started dragging me toward the tires.

Just as total despair swallowed me and I thought I was going to be crushed into pulp, a blinding set of headlights appeared behind us, followed by a sharp, urgent honking that cut through the silence.

The person who stepped out of the car was none other than my "dear big brother", Callum Holloway. He was followed by Kate, who was smiling ever so sweetly.

A big, fawning grin immediately appeared on Scarface's face.

Kate snuggled into Callum's side and cooed sweetly, "Cal, what if Mr. Whitethorn thinks her face doesn't look quite like mine and sees through it? I'm really scared… Why don't we make sure she can never speak again, and her face can never be seen by anyone again… That would be the safest thing to do."

Callum's brows furrowed tightly before he nodded.

"You're right, Kate," he said, his voice icy and without a trace of warmth. "That face is indeed a liability. In that case, destroy it."

He drew a dagger and walked toward me, step by step.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm your real sister, Callum!" I screamed with the last of my strength, trying to awaken his conscience.

"Real sister?"

He laughed mockingly as he stomped down on my bleeding hand, grinding it viciously. "The only sister I have is Kate. You? You're just a stray mutt meant to shield Kate from harm.

"Did you really think we brought you home so you could live the good life? Stop dreaming! If Kate hadn't needed this life of yours, you wouldn't even be worthy of stepping through our front door!"

My heart instantly froze into shards of ice.

Callum advanced toward me, his expression dark, while Kate stood behind him, her grin smug.

My body trembled uncontrollably, but more than anything, I couldn't help the quiet, inward sighs.

The last person who had accidentally scratched me… had been killed eight years ago.

It had just been a small nick on my finger, but Dad had ordered someone to hack the man's limbs off and turn him into a human pig to be tortured for three days and three nights. Only when the offender was on his last breath was he tossed into the open sea.

Dad loved me as if I were his own life. At the slightest injury to me, he would lash out at whoever was in charge of taking care of me, killing or maiming them. My hands bore the blood of countless innocent people.

That was exactly why I had both respected and feared him for the past 20 years.

If he found out that the Holloways had been tormenting and humiliating me all this time, then they would…

My breath caught.

This was getting way out of hand. The Holloways were done for.

Trembling, I warned them one last time. "My father really is Dominic Whitethorn. You're all going to die! Every single one of you will be wiped out without a trace!"

The next second, Callum ordered someone to pin me down. Without the slightest hesitation, his knife sliced across my face. The tip carved freely from my brow bone all the way down to my jaw, spilling blood across the ground.

The agony stole my voice. I felt like I was suffocating.

Kate gleefully pulled out her phone, filmed my bloody, mangled face up close, then quickly uploaded it online.

The caption was sensational.

"Shocking! The Ravenfield Holloways finally reclaimed their real daughter—only to discover that she's a junkie, ready to drag the whole family down just to survive!"

In the video, she painted me as a deranged drug addict who had angered a powerful figure, attempted to threaten my family but failed, and ended up harming myself instead.

In less than three minutes, the comments section exploded.

"How evil! She couldn't save herself, so she's dragging her whole family down with her?"

"Goodness! People like that deserve to be ripped to shreds! Poor Holloways!"

"She deserves to be disfigured! Let her die!"