Chapter 3

I never met my mother.

Not really.

Growing up, whenever I dared to ask about her, the housekeepers would shuffle nervously, muttering vague excuses before quickly changing the subject.

It wasn’t until I was seven years old that I learned the truth.

I wandered into the basement by accident one day and saw her.

She was chained to the wall, a rusted dog collar wrapped around her neck like a noose. Her red dress was torn and filthy, clinging to her skeletal frame. Her skin was ghostly pale, the kind of sickly white that comes from years without sunlight. The air reeked of mildew, blood, and something worse—something rotting.

She sat slumped against the wall, combing her brittle, thinning hair with a broken comb. Her bony fingers moved mechanically, and every now and then, she’d hum a tune or let out a soft, eerie laugh.

Her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes made her look like a corpse, but even then, I could see it—the faint resemblance between us.

That’s when she noticed me.

A little girl clutching a doll, chubby and wide-eyed.

“Are you… Lila?” she croaked, her voice raspy and strained.

Before I could answer, she lunged at me. Her bony hands grabbed my arm, her grip so tight it left five bloody scratches.

“You’ve grown so much,” she whispered, her face inches from mine. “I’m your mother, Lila. I’m your mother!”

I froze, too scared to move, but then her eyes dropped to my bare feet.

Her expression twisted into something monstrous.

“You walk around like that in front of your father?” she screamed, her voice shrill and hysterical. “You little whore! You think you can seduce him, don’t you?”

Before I could react, her hand shot out and struck me across the face.

I was sick with a fever for a month after that.

The next time I saw her, Luke—my father—had brought her to my bedside.

She stood by my bed, her posture stiff and submissive. Her trembling fingers brushed my hair as she leaned down to whisper, “Lila, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have hit you. Can you forgive me?”

Her apology felt hollow, her voice shaking with every word. She kept glancing at Luke like a frightened animal, her whole body trembling whenever his shadow crossed hers.

I forgave her, of course.

I was desperate for a mother. I’d longed for her my entire life.

From then on, I shielded her from everything.

When Luke whipped her, I threw myself over her body, letting the lashes tear into my back instead.

When he drained her blood, I held the knife myself, matching each cut on her skin with one on my own.

When he forced her to eat rotting meat, I swallowed bite after bite until I was retching and sobbing, just to spare her the pain.

Eventually, Luke’s affection for me faded completely.

“You’re just like her,” he said one day, his cold, sharp eyes boring into mine. “Stupid and weak. It’s in your blood, Lila. You inherited her pitiful, filthy nature.”

From that moment on, he stopped trying to mold me into his perfect heir.

No more lessons in etiquette or business. No more late nights learning foreign languages or memorizing the weaknesses of his corporate rivals.

When Anna heard, she was overjoyed.

“Finally, he’s letting you off the hook!” she said, her laughter bubbling like champagne. “Girls don’t need to learn all that nonsense. What, does he think you’re going to inherit the company? How ridiculous.

“Your job is to grow up pretty and happy. Find a good man to marry. That’s all that matters. Come, let me teach you how to make men adore you…”

I sat there, confused, her words gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

She’s my mom, I told myself. She wouldn’t hurt me.

Would she?

When I turned eighteen, I was accepted into a university overseas.

That summer, Luke left town for a business meeting. The moment he drove off, I ran to the basement, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

“Mom,” I whispered, fumbling with the lock on her chain. “We’re leaving. I’m getting you out of here.”

The collar fell away, clattering to the floor. For the first time in eighteen years, she was free.

“Dad’s gone,” I told her, my voice shaking with excitement. “I already bought tickets. We’re flying to a new city. I’ll go to school, and I’ll take care of you. I’ll fix this, Mom. I’ll fix everything.”

Anna blinked at me, her eyes flicking to the chain on the floor. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.

“Okay, Lila,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “Let’s go.”

The plane was in the air when I finally allowed myself to breathe.

It was over.

We were free.

I turned to share my relief with her, but she was staring at me, her expression unreadable.

And then she smiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile.

The intercom crackled.

“Attention passengers, this flight will be making an emergency return to the airport. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

My stomach dropped.

Ten minutes later, the plane landed. The other passengers were ushered off, leaving just me and Anna.

Luke was waiting for us at the gate.

Anna ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, “Luke! You stopped a plane for me! You love me that much…”

She looked like she might faint from the joy of it all. For her, it was a grand romantic gesture, proof that no one could ever come between them.

She turned to me, her expression hardening.

“She forced me,” Anna said, her voice trembling. “She wanted to send me away so she could have you all to herself. She’s jealous, Luke. She’s always been jealous of us.”

I was dragged back to the basement, my neck chained to the wall where hers had been.

Luke tilted my chin up with his foot, sneering.

“You’re useless,” he said. “Just like her. But at least she’s entertaining. You? You’re nothing.”

He turned to Anna, his voice softening.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve adopted a son. He’ll take over the company someday. You don’t have to think about her anymore.”

From that day on, I became Anna.

She thrived.

The life of a wealthy socialite brought color back to her cheeks. She draped herself in diamonds and pearls, smiling down at me like a queen visiting her subjects.

“Lila,” she said one day, letting a box of pastries fall to the floor. “Luke only does this because he loves you. You should be grateful. No man will ever love you as much as he does.”

When Luke demanded my blood, she wielded the knife.

When he forced me to eat rotting meat, she shoved it down my throat.

When he set his wolfdog on me, she handed me a knife and told me to fight.

She laughed as I bled, her voice as bright and clear as a bell.

“She’s more dog than the dog itself!” she said, grinning at Luke.

The night I killed myself, she cried.

“Lila,” she sobbed, clutching my lifeless body. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone with him. I need you…”

But I was already gone.