The hands held onto me more firmly now, but there was no violence in it only control, only certainty. I was being pulled away from the edge of something I had already chosen, and I hated that part of me that still struggled against it.
I was lowered gently onto someone's lap.
Warmth hit me instantly. Real warmth. Not the cold, cruel kind I had learned to expect from everyone in my life, but something steady, something almost… human.
For a moment, my mind cracked open with a painful illusion.
Mother.
My lips trembled as I tried to focus on the face above me. "Mother, look at the monster you turned him into..." I whispered, barely audible, as if saying it too loudly would break the illusion.
My vision blurred, not just from pain but from something deeper, something I had buried so long it hurt to even recognize it.
But then.
Cold water.
It hit me suddenly, shocking my body into a violent gasp. I jerked upright, coughing, blinking rapidly as reality snapped back into place. The warmth was gone. The illusion shattered, the day shone brighter now and i was still here.
Still alive.
That realization didn't feel like relief. It felt like punishment.
I tried to move immediately. My body refused at first, trembling violently under its own weight, but I still pushed myself up. My mind locked onto one thought only.
Run. Escape. The cliff. Finish it.
I turned, dragging my legs forward with one hand, nails scraping against the dirt as I crawled in desperation toward the direction of the edge.
But I didn't get far.
A sharp pull yanked me backward, followed by a brutal slap across my face. The impact echoed through my skull as I collapsed face-first into the wet garden soil, breath knocked out of me.
"That's enough, Darling."
The voice cut through everything.
Not my father's.
I froze.
Slowly, I lifted my head.
A woman stood at the edge of the garden.
She didn't belong here. Not in this house. Not in this world of rot and cruelty.
She was young, Early thirties at most according to her facial features. but her presence carried something heavier than age.
Something commanding without effort. Her brunette hair fell softly over her shoulders, catching the faint light like silk.
Her blue eyes were sharp, but not cold. Not like them. And her lips red, calm, unreadable, curved in a way that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking.
She looked like someone who had never been broken.
And that alone made her terrifying in a different way.
Father's entire posture changed the moment she appeared. The anger, the dominance, the monster I had just endured, everything shifted. He sighed, like a man forced to step out of character.
"Darling?" I heard myself think, confused and disoriented. The word didn't belong in my reality. Not with him. Not with her.
Who was she to him?
Why was she calling him that?
My stomach twisted.
Father was too old for her. Too cruel. Too everything.
And yet he didn't resist when she walked straight up to him.
"Let's go," she said softly, taking his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And he followed.
Just like that.
No questions. No rage. No explanation.
They turned and walked back into the mansion together, leaving me behind in the dirt like something forgotten.
I stayed there for a long time after they disappeared.
The garden felt colder now. Not because of the air, but because of the silence they left behind. My body ached in ways I couldn't even name anymore. Pain had become so constant it no longer felt like an event. Just existence.
A bitter sound escaped my throat, half laugh, half broken breath.
If I could run away… where would I even go?
There was nowhere for me. No one waiting. No version of the world where I wasn't already ruined.
Death had always felt like the only honest escape.
But even that… had been taken from me.
Because someone stopped me.
The memory returned suddenly and intrusively.
That moment at the cliff.
The arms that pulled me back.
The strength that didn't hurt me, even while stopping me from leaving.
Someone had saved me.
But I couldn't see her face. Only fragments. Only warmth.
Who was she?
And why did it feel like she had decided I wasn't allowed to die?
My chest tightened painfully.
I forced myself up eventually, dragging my broken body back into the mansion like a ghost returning to its own grave. The house was too quiet. Too clean. Too pretending-nothing-ever-happened.
I made it to my room and shut the door behind me.
Then I went straight into the shower.
The water hit my skin hot and relentless, and for a moment I just stood there, letting it blur everything, pain, memory, humiliation, the taste of blood still lingering in my throat. I didn't cry. I had learned that crying didn't change anything. It only made you weaker in a place that already wanted you gone.
If my mother had stayed… would I have been different?
The thought came and went like a ghost.
She hadn't stayed.
No one ever did.
When placed my ear on the doors, the house had already reset itself. Layla and Marcus were gone.
The silence felt intentional now, like the mansion was holding its breath.
A knock came at my door.
A maid entered carefully, carrying hot water and a towel.
"This will help you heal faster," she said gently.
I frowned slightly. "Did Father send you?"
Even as I said it, I already knew the answer.
No.
Of course not.
"No, ma'am Ivy," she replied. "The new madam sent me."
Something shifted in my chest.
New madam.
That woman.
I accepted the towel slowly, my fingers unsteady around it. For the first time in a long time, something wasn't cruel. It wasn't punishment. It was… care. Real care. And I didn't know what to do with it.
I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about it.
But I couldn't settle.
Because the door opened again.
And she walked in.
No hesitation. No announcement. Just presence.
Graceful. Certain. Like she belonged everywhere she stepped.
I shot up instantly in bed, my body reacting before my mind could even catch up.
She didn't rush toward me. She didn't demand anything. She simply walked closer, sat beside me like she had done it a thousand times before, and studied me in silence for a long moment.
Then she reached out and gently tapped my cheek with the towel.
"Why would a young girl like you try to take her own life?" she asked softly.
Her voice wasn't judgmental.
It wasn't cruel.
It was almost… curious.
And that broke something in me.
Because I recognized her now.
Fully.
It was her.
The woman who had saved me.