Chapter 3

Chaos. Screaming. Bang—the sound of chairs being knocked over.

"You monster!" Dad's roar pierced my eardrums like needles.

I was still floating in the darkness of hypnosis, but the world outside was collapsing.

"Dad! No! It's her hallucination!" Seraphina shrieked. "She's lying! She's always been lying!"

Lying? I wanted to laugh.

"Lying?!" Mom's voice was hysterical. "We saw it! We all saw it!"

"That video... the one you edited..." Adrian's voice was soft, but every word cut like a blade. "We saw that too."

Yes, you finally saw it.

"It's a hallucination! She made it up!" Seraphina kept struggling.

"Lying?" Dr. Cross's icy voice cut through. "Miss Sterling's neural feedback data indicates this is a real memory, not imagination or dreams."

He clicked the screen, projecting complex physiological curves:

"When the brain recalls traumatic events, amygdala activity reaches 85%—this is the physiological signature of genuine trauma. Metabolic traces of gamma-hydroxybutyric acid can still be detected in brain tissue memory three years later. This drug response curve doesn't lie."

I wanted to laugh.

Yes, scientific data doesn't lie.

But three years ago, did you believe me?

Seraphina's voice turned into a scream: "No! She made it up! She's lying!"

But no one looked at her anymore.

I felt Adrian approach the treatment chair. His hand landed on the armrest, fingers trembling.

He said nothing, just stood there.

Seraphina's crying turned into whimpering. She collapsed in her chair, her whole body shaking.

She finally knew.

Three years of carefully woven lies were being stripped away, layer by layer.

The treatment room's lights gradually dimmed.

The chaotic sounds began to fade, as if being pulled underwater. My consciousness sank again, plunging into the abyss of memory.

Dr. Cross's voice echoed in the darkness: "Vivian, after the party, what did Seraphina do to you?"

No... I don't want to go back...

But memory didn't obey my command—it surfaced on its own.

A new scene appeared—the Sterling mansion, sunset falling, dappled with light and shadow.

But that light never shone into my room.

I curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The bruises on my wrist were from struggling three days ago.

It was over. It had passed.

"Knock, knock, knock."

The knocking made my whole body flinch.

Seraphina walked in, holding a long wooden ruler. She wore a gentle smile, but her eyes were ice-cold.

"Sister, Mom and Dad asked me to teach you some high society etiquette. Are you willing to learn?"

No. I wasn't willing.

But I couldn't say it out loud.

"I... I'll learn properly..." My voice was barely above a whisper.

"Very good." She sat down by the bed. "First, posture. Stand up."

I struggled to stand. My legs were trembling—three days without proper food, I could barely stand steady.

"Back straight."

I tried to straighten my back.

"Such terrible posture!" She suddenly stood up, grabbing the ruler. "Hold out your hand!"

I instinctively hid my hands behind my back.

"I said, hold it out!"

I slowly extended my right hand. There were still scabs from scratching three days ago on my palm.

"Smack!"

Searing pain exploded instantly. I bit my lip as tears streamed down uncontrollably.

"Why are you crying?" She sneered. "That's just the first one. The rule is fifty strikes. Count them!"

Fifty strikes? My hand already hurt like this...

"One..."

"Smack!"

"Two..."

"Smack!"

"Three..."

Each strike felt like a blunt knife cutting flesh. My palm went from red and swollen to broken skin, from broken skin to bleeding.

"Fifteen..."

"Twenty-three..."

"Thirty-six..."

My voice went from clear to trembling, from trembling to barely audible.

"Forty-eight..."

"Forty-nine..."

"Fifty..."

Blood dripped from my fingertips onto the carpet.

"Very good, sister." She put down the ruler, her smile sweet. "We'll continue tomorrow."

Tomorrow... it would continue?

A few hours later, the dinner bell rang.

I sat carefully at the dining table, my right hand wrapped in gauze, blood still seeping through.

The long table was laden with truffle lobster, wagyu beef, foie gras. The crystal chandelier's light was warm and glaring.

I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten properly in three days.

I tried to hold the fork with my left hand, but my hand kept shaking.

"Clang—"

The fork fell to the floor. Everyone looked at me.

"Mom, sister's table manners are so poor, the guests will laugh at us." Seraphina said with "concern."

Mom frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry..." I lowered my head.

"Don't eat tonight. Starve for a day and learn your lesson." Seraphina's voice was as gentle as if she cared about me.

"Yes, let her reflect." Dad didn't even look up.

The servant took away my plate.

I looked at the table full of food, my stomach was growling. I wanted just one bite, just one...

"Go to your room." Mom waved her hand.

I stood up and fled the dining room like an unwanted pest.

They were sitting right there... but no one looked at me.

At 11 PM, I thought I could finally sleep.

But the door was pushed open.

Seraphina walked in with a bag of coarse salt and poured it directly onto the hardwood floor.

"Sister, your tone when speaking to the servants today was wrong. Kneel down and reflect for two hours."

"Sera, I'm really tired..."

"Call me Miss Seraphina! Kneel down!"

The coarse salt grains dug into my knees like countless needles. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound.

The clock ticked. 11 o'clock... 12 o'clock... 1 AM...

My knees went from numb to painful, then from painful back to numb. Tears soaked my pajama collar.

How much longer... how much longer...

This was just the first night.

A few days later, in the dead of night, I was dragged from my sleep.

"Sister, you embarrassed the family in front of guests today." Seraphina dragged me to the balcony. "Stand outside and cool down."

"No... please..."

"Bang!" The balcony door closed, followed by the sound of locking.

I was only wearing thin pajamas. San Francisco in December, temperature near freezing.

The cold wind cut my skin like knives. Then, a bucket of cold water was splashed on me.

"Don't even think about sleeping warm tonight." Her laughter came through the glass door.

I curled up in the corner, teeth chattering.

Would I die... would I freeze to death here...

Footsteps. It was Dad and Mom.

Save me! Please!

I pounded on the glass door, but my throat was too frozen to make a sound.

"What is Vivian doing now?" Dad's voice.

I'm here!

"Dad, sister said she was too hot and wanted some fresh air on the balcony." Seraphina's voice.

"In this cold weather? She's not right in the head." Mom said.

The footsteps faded away.

I watched their backs. Just a few more steps... just a few more steps and they would see me...

Why didn't they look at me once?

The last glimmer of hope in my eyes went out.

The days after became an endless nightmare.

Hand strikes, kneeling on salt, starvation, freezing on the balcony... Every day, it repeated.

Until...

Suddenly, a sharp alarm tore through the memory.

"Beep beep beep beep—"

I felt myself falling, my body convulsing uncontrollably. The whole world was spinning, shattering.

No... I don't want to see anymore... please...

Dr. Cross's voice came from far away: "Her heart rate is dropping! Blood pressure's falling too!"

"Her body is rejecting these memories!"

And Dad's voice: "Vivian!"

Too late... you're too late...

I heard Seraphina saying: "I just... just wanted her to know... she doesn't belong here..."

Right... I don't belong here...

I never belonged here.

Then Dr. Cross's voice, cold and heavy: "Her body is at its limit. If we continue the hypnosis, she might not make it."

"But we have to see it through," Dad's voice was hoarse. "We need to know... what she went through these three years."

Mom was crying: "We owe her the truth."

The truth?

You finally want the truth now?