Chapter 3

The car pulled up to a massive house.

It looked somewhat familiar, but I dared not acknowledge it.

The walls here were too white, like a hospital.

The lights here were too bright, like fire.

Servants stood at the door, covering their noses at the sight of my grimy state.

Julian threw me onto the living room carpet.

"Clean her up. Don't let her soil my carpet."

A few maids approached, roughly dragging me into the bathroom.

The faucet hissed open. Scalding hot water sprayed out, steaming.

"Ah!" I shrieked, shrinking into a corner.

"Fire! It's fire! Don't burn me!"

The hot water pouring over me felt just like the searing flames on the cruise ship that night.

I clutched my head, trembling all over, my teeth chattering.

The maids impatiently held me down.

"Ma'am, stop pretending. It's just water."

I struggled with all my might, my nails scratching one maid's arm.

"Slap!" The maid slapped me backhand.

"Crazy lunatic!"

When Julian burst in, I was huddled in the corner of the bathtub, like a drowned rat.

My clothes had been ripped off.

The vast, grotesque patch of burn scars on my back, twisting like tree roots, was exposed to the air.

Julian's pupils contracted sharply.

He seemed to want to reach out and touch the scars, but his hand stopped halfway.

"You really went all out for this act, didn't you?"

He gritted his teeth, his voice a mix of sarcasm and something else I couldn't decipher.

"Julian?" A sweet, delicate voice drifted from the doorway. Seraphina walked in, wearing a white ballet dress.

She was so clean, like a white swan.

And I, I was a rat in the gutter.

Seraphina saw the scars on my back; a flicker of disgust crossed her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with an expression of concern.

"Elara, what happened to you? Julian is doing this for your own good, how could you scratch the maid?"

I caught a whiff of her perfume.

I sneezed, pointing at her.

"You smell bad."

Seraphina's face stiffened, her smile almost faltering.

Julian immediately shielded Seraphina behind him, looking at me with cold fury.

"Elara, apologize to Seraphina!"

I didn't understand.

She was the one who smelled bad, why did I have to apologize?

I stubbornly pressed my lips together, saying nothing.

Julian lost his patience.

He turned to a cabinet and pulled out a red box.

Inside, nestled perfectly, was a pair of red ballet shoes.

Three years ago, they were my most treasured possession.

But now, seeing them, I only felt the aching in my legs.

My broken leg bones throbbed faintly.

"Didn't you love to dance?"

Julian tossed the ballet shoes in front of me.

"Put them on. Dance for me."

"I won't dance..."

I shook my head frantically, shrinking backward.

"My legs hurt... fire... don't burn me..."

He thought I was protesting this way.

"You won't dance?"

He scoffed, picked up the shoes, and strode to the fireplace.

A fire crackled within the hearth.

"If you won't dance, then you'll never dance again!"

He let go, and the ballet shoes tumbled into the flames.

The fire instantly consumed the red satin.

"No!"

I stared at the inferno, and something snapped in my mind.

The fire.

The cruise ship.

My broken leg.

I lost control of my bladder on the spot.

A warm, yellow liquid streamed down my thighs, filling the air with a pungent, sour smell.

Seraphina gasped, covering her nose and recoiling into Julian's embrace.

Julian looked at the puddle on the floor, his face turning ashen.

He finally realized.

The proud Elara Vance, once radiant like a peacock.

She was truly shattered.