Conrad stood there for a long time, staring at the bite mark on his hand.
This woman really knew how to dish out a slap and then offer a sweet reward.
Lillian quickly rummaged through her suitcase but couldn’t find the bottle of birth control pills she had left on her nightstand.
A wave of anxiety washed over her. There was no convenience store anywhere near the Taylor Mansion, and asking someone to go out and buy them was out of the question.
She practically turned her suitcase inside out but still came up empty-handed.
“Why aren’t you in the shower yet?”
Lillian jumped, turning to find Conrad standing behind her, his gaze sharp and piercing, as if he could see right through her.
She opened her mouth but hesitated. “Oh, I just realized something’s missing. Is everything from my suitcase here?”
“What are you looking for? I’ll ask someone to check.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s not that important,” she replied quickly, not daring to tell the truth.
She stood up, grabbed her change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom.
Not long after she went inside, someone came upstairs.
“Mr. Conrad, the pills in this bottle have all been replaced.”
“Switched with vitamins?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give it to me.”
Conrad took the small bottle, casually tossed it into Lillian’s bag, and left.
When Lillian came out of the shower after washing her hair, she couldn’t let it go and decided to search her bag again.
In a corner, she found the bottle.
Relieved, she immediately opened it, shook out two pills, and swallowed them.
But as soon as they hit her tongue, something felt off.
This wasn’t the taste of her usual birth control pills.
It was slightly sour-more like vitamin C.
She examined the bottle carefully. It was definitely hers.
“What’s wrong? Found your pills but think they taste strange?” Conrad’s cold voice came from behind her.
Lillian froze, turning stiffly to face him.
Conrad sneered at her reaction. “Why are you looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“I’m not. I just think they might’ve expired,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Then throw them out. I’ll have someone get you a new bottle,” he said smoothly.
Conrad walked up to her, plucked the bottle from her hand, and tossed it into the trash can without a second thought.
Lillian didn’t dare ask if he knew anything.
She didn’t dare confront the underlying tension, choosing instead to believe the pills had simply gone bad.
But Conrad suddenly scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
She pulled the blanket over herself, but Conrad showed no interest in lying down with her.
“You sleep,” he said. “After you finish paying your respects to your father, you should start thinking about where your focus in life ought to be.”
Lillian fell asleep that night filled with doubt and fear.
This time of year always left her feeling restless.
Memories from the past flooded her mind.
She thought about the day she returned from training, only to find out her father had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital. By the time she arrived, countless sympathetic eyes were already on her.
The nanny who had taken care of her since she was little wept as she prepared to leave.
“Miss, take care of yourself,” the nanny said tearfully.
Everything her family owned was seized and sealed.
The gifts her father had given her? She couldn’t take a single one.
The only things she managed to leave with were her personal documents and a suitcase full of clothes.
On her first day living with her uncle’s family, she couldn’t eat a bite, and her aunt scolded her for it.
In her dreams, Grace’s twisted, vicious face appeared.
“Our family isn’t here to support freeloaders. You still think you can go to college? Where am I supposed to get the money for that? Don’t blame me for being blunt. This family only has so much to give.”
It was her first time living in such a tiny room, with only a sliver of light coming through the skylight.
She watched dust particles dance in the sunlight as she placed her father’s photo on the cabinet.
That was when Fanny burst in, grabbing the few pieces of clothing left in her suitcase.
“You don’t want to freeload in my house, do you? Do my homework for me. I’m going out with my friends later. If my parents ask, just tell them I’m at the library.”
She started from scratch, learning to do laundry and house chores. When she got things wrong, she was slapped or had her hair yanked while being scolded.
After her grandmother fell into a coma, this house no longer held a place for her at all.
Every time a creditor called the house, Grace would punish her harshly.
For a long time, just hearing the landline ring was enough to give her nightmares.
She used to have beautiful, silky long hair, but Fanny chopped it into uneven pieces.
It wasn’t until one day, when her uncle, John, brought guests home for dinner and caught the leering gaze one of the men directed at her, that he forbade Grace and her daughter from bullying her anymore.
He even bought her a set of skincare products.
After all, if he wanted to sell her for a good price, he had to present the “goods” properly.
In the garish glow of the private room’s lights, surrounded by grotesque, overweight men with malicious smiles and eyes inspecting her like merchandise, she felt utterly exposed.
She ran down the empty corridor, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor.
Behind her, countless hands twisted grotesquely, clawing out from the shadows, reaching for her from the dark mist.
She knew if she stopped, she would be swallowed by the darkness entirely. Those sharp, skeletal claws came within inches of grabbing her ankles, ready to drag her back.
The stench of thick, black blood filled the air, mingling with the reek of alcohol and nicotine.
She ran and ran, barefoot, until her feet were bloody. She ran until she had no strength left, collapsing on the floor as someone grabbed her ankle and began pulling her back.
Then, a pair of leather shoes appeared in front of her.
Desperate, she grabbed onto them as if clinging to a piece of driftwood in an endless ocean. Her fingers dug in so hard that the tendons in her hands stood out.
She clutched at the sharply creased pant legs, which hugged long legs clad in tailored suit trousers. Looking up, she met his gaze, her disheveled appearance colliding with his field of vision.
The shadows grew darker and more oppressive as long, sculpted fingers gripped her tightly.
It felt as if she had signed a contract with the devil. She handed over not just her body, but her very soul.
His powerful arms wrapped around her, squeezing the air from her lungs.
He adorned her in luxurious jewelry and beautiful dresses, placing her on a pedestal like a crucifix, with chains binding all her yearning for freedom.
Thorns wound around her legs, her blood watering those eternal black roses.
Whenever she longed for sunlight, the man, like a demon, would unfurl his immense, shadowy wings behind her, sinking sharp fangs into her neck.
“You’re mine… You can never leave me.”