Chapter 7

"Anne, stop hitting her." Bryce couldn't bear the sight of his younger sister, whom he held dear, being beaten so mercilessly. He wanted to step forward and intervene, but Hanna's sudden cry stopped him in his tracks. "Bryce, my chest hurts so much," Hanna exclaimed, her voice rising. "Don't worry about me! Go stop them already!" she urged. Her words froze Bryce where he stood, leaving Valery to endure the full brunt of Anne's fury. Valery’s body was riddled with bruises, her face swollen, and her lips bleeding. "Did you learn your lesson?" Anne sneered, gripping Valery's face harshly and forcing her to the ground like a dog. Valery's vision was blurred by the swelling around her eyes, leaving her barely able to make out shapes, let alone faces. But she knew Bryce was there, standing idly by, unwilling to help her. "I… I know I was wrong," Valery whispered, her voice trembling. It was a bitter pill to swallow, admitting fault for something she hadn't done. But she owed the Dobbs family—owed them so much that even if Anne demanded her life, she felt she had no right to refuse. "Ha! Valery, this is all you're worth," Anne laughed cruelly. Bryce glanced over and saw Valery, once so proud and self-assured, now lying battered and bloody on the floor. She had admitted her so-called mistake, yet he didn't feel any satisfaction. It must be an illusion, Bryce thought, shaking his head. He took Hanna’s hand and walked over to Valery. "Valery, I hope this is the last time." Turning to Anne, he added, "Send her to the hospital." Anne, however, showed no concern. She nudged one of Valery’s wounds with her foot, smirking as Valery groaned in pain. "Bryce, these are just minor injuries. I've had worse from my taekwondo classes. She doesn’t need a hospital—she’ll live. Let her find her own way back. Come on, let’s keep shopping." "But Valery's injuries are serious. Shouldn't we at least take her to the hospital?" Hanna interjected hesitantly. Anne scoffed. "Hanna, you're too soft. That’s why Valery takes advantage of you. Look at her—what does she think she is? Daring to dream of things far beyond her reach. These injuries are nothing. She's lucky this is all she got. She won't die, so what's the problem?" Her words cut deep, a sharp reminder of Valery's supposed transgressions. Bryce, feeling reassured, finally agreed. "Let her make her own way back." The three walked off, leaving Valery behind. The bodyguards dragged her out of the mall and dumped her unceremoniously outside. Valery had never been in such agony before. It felt like every organ inside her was screaming in pain. "What's wrong with her? Those injuries look serious. Should we call an ambulance?" "She looks young, but with those wounds… Maybe she got caught being someone’s mistress." People around her whispered, their words laced with malice and judgment. Valery gritted her teeth, determined to stand. But every time she tried to rise, she fell again, leaving streaks of blood on the ground. Finally, after countless attempts, she managed to get to her feet, forcing herself to walk despite the pain. The crowd trailed behind her, some out of pity, others out of morbid curiosity. A kind stranger handed her a piece of clothing to cover herself, and only then did she realize her own tattered attire. During the scuffle, Anne had torn her clothes, leaving her exposed and humiliated. Now, she looked no better than a stray dog—a defeated, abandoned soul. "Wait, young lady," an older cleaning lady called out as Valery neared the exit of the mall. The woman blocked her path, her face lined with displeasure. "I heard from those bodyguards that you got beaten up for being a mistress. You're young—why would you do something like that? And now, you’ve made a mess for us cleaners to deal with. Your blood’s all over the floor. Pay up for the trouble you’ve caused." It had been a day filled with scorn and humiliation, but this moment was the lowest of all. Valery stood there, stripped of dignity, unable to say a word.