Chapter 3

Hearing him say that, I didn't want to seem difficult. I suppressed my discomfort and tried my best to take care of his family.

During that time, they lived off me completely. His mother used my $500 La Mer cream as foot moisturizer. His father put out his cheap, smelly cigars right on my luxury leather sofa.

They even forced me to kneel on the floor every night, wash Justin’s dirty gym socks by hand, and give him foot massages. They claimed it was "preparation" for me to become a good wife.

I protested, but every time I raised my voice, Justin would shut me down with "family values" and "respecting elders."

I felt incredibly suffocated, but I didn't know how to fight back against his guilt-tripping. I could only swallow my tears.

On my way home one day, I saw a bakery selling delicious cupcakes and bought one.

Life had been so bitter lately. I just wanted something sweet to cheer myself up.

But the moment I reached my door, before I could even step inside, Brenda blocked my way, her hands on her hips.

She poked my forehead with her thick, dirty finger, staring at the cupcake bag in my hand with sheer disgust.

"Who allowed you to buy such expensive garbage? How much did this cost?!"

"It wasn't expensive. It was only eight dollars."

I was tired and didn't want to argue in the hallway, so I answered quietly.

But those words made Brenda explode. She lunged forward and slapped me three or four times across the face.

She grabbed my hair with one hand and slammed my head against the wall with the other.

As a woman who did manual labor in the countryside, she was incredibly strong. I couldn't break free.

My vision went black, and my ears were ringing.

Then, Brenda kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to drop to the floor.

"You worthless spendthrift! You'll kneel out here tonight and think about what you did!"

No matter how good-tempered I was, I couldn't take her abuse anymore. I stood up and started screaming back at her.

The noise brought Justin and his father out. After listening to Brenda's twisted, exaggerated version of the story, they both looked at me with cold, dark faces.

"The Miller family doesn't need an disobedient woman like you. Kneel down right now!"

I was going crazy. I looked at Justin, hoping he would say something reasonable.

"Justin! Whose apartment is this?!"

"Your entire family is living on my dime! I buy one cupcake and your mother acts like I committed a federal crime! Who is the one in the wrong here?!"

But Justin just stepped forward, grabbed me by my collar, and said with disgusting arrogance, "Once you marry into my family, not only does your money belong to me, but you do too! If you don't obey us, we'll beat you to death."

I was utterly shocked by his toxic, brainwashed mindset. Once I snapped out of it, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Go to hell! We are breaking up! I would never marry you!"

"Chloe Henderson, how dare you!"

In the heat of the argument, Justin lost his temper. He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and tumbled backward down the stairs.

My head slammed violently against the concrete steps. Warm, crimson blood began to pool around me.

Right before I lost consciousness, I struggled to look up at Justin.

He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at me. There was no panic, no regret in his eyes—only coldness and a smug smirk.

"An disobedient woman deserves to be taught a lesson."

Thinking back to that moment, I looked up at the smug Brenda, who had just slapped me. A cold smile crept onto my lips.

In my past life, my kindness made me a victim, and it cost me my life.

In this life, I am going to make you pay it all back with interest.

I immediately sent a Snapchat message to my personal bodyguards, telling them to come upstairs.

Then, under Brenda’s shocked gaze, I dialed 911. "Hi, I'd like to report a violent home invasion."

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