Chapter 3 The Outcast

I patted Melody on the shoulder, whose face was pale with fear, and walked into the room. Hannah followed closely behind.

Ethan sat at his desk, his expression as cold as a winter's day, eyes sharp with suppressed anger.

People used to say that despite him and I sharing the same womb, we only looked alike in the eyes—that sharp upward tilt that gave us both a natural, aloof chill.

Neither of us had ever been much for smiling. And after I turned five, he never smiled at me again.

"Emilia." He called my name with a frown. "How could you let your assistant insult Hannah? Is cruelty just part of your nature?"

I turned and met Hannah's gaze.

Her eyes, slightly red and glistening with unshed tears, sparkled with the innocence she had perfected so well, making her look delicate and fragile. It was a skill I could never master.

"Are you even listening to me?" Ethan snapped, losing patience as I stayed silent.

He hurled a folder from the desk at me, and its sharp edge sliced across my cheek.

Blood immediately beaded along the cut.

He froze, his lips parting, eyes widening in something close to surprise as he instinctively said my name, softer this time, "Emilia, you—"

"I'll resign and apologize to her," I interrupted, my tone steady, each word deliberate. "Is that enough to make you happy?"

He was taken aback; his fury momentarily paused before roaring back like a wildfire. "Emilia! Are you a child?" His voice rose, filled with disdain, as he gritted out, "Throwing a fit like this… You don't have the right!"

I knew that already. I had known for a long time. Only children who were cherished could afford to throw tantrums.

"I'll go to HR myself." With that, I shut the door behind me, leaving his angry shouts muffled on the other side.

On the way home, a sudden, sharp pain knotted in my stomach.

Curled up in the backseat of the cab, I felt the ache spread, yet my mind remained clear, replaying every look of disgust Ethan had thrown my way.

It hadn't always been like this.

Once, there was some faint warmth between us. He still resented me, but back then, there were fleeting moments when he showed me concern.

I thought that if I could just be good enough, if I could prove myself, we could be family again.

But everything changed in junior high, the day Hannah came home crying, claiming I had bullied her at school.

After a pause, he struck me without hesitation, a hard slap that stung long after the moment passed. The disgust in his eyes was unmistakable as he spat out, "You're nothing but trouble—a born devil!"

That night, he left me outside in the bitter cold.

I huddled in the corner of the porch, the reality sinking in slowly and painfully. My brother, my only family, despised me with a hatred that ran to the bone.

…

Night had already fallen by the time I returned home. My front door was wide open, light spilling onto the street.

My heart raced as I stepped inside, only to be met with a scene of complete chaos.

My belongings lay scattered across the floor, overturned and broken, while the landlord directed a few men to haul everything out.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, anger surging through me.

The landlord glanced back at me with a smirk. "Ah, you're back just in time. Go on, gather your stuff. You're moving out tonight."

"Why?" I shot back, the fury tightening in my chest. "You have no right to barge in and touch my stuff without permission—"

"Look, it's nothing personal." He raised a hand, cutting me off with a sigh. "Your brother, the chairman of Perry Holdings, paid me to kick you out. With money like that, what choice do I have?"

His words stuck like a thorn in my throat as he shrugged and left with his crew, calling back, "Pack up quickly, yeah?"

I stood amid the wreckage of my home, breathing hard to keep the pain from showing, and dialed Ethan.

Hearing the reason for my call, he scoffed. "Come back and apologize to Hannah, or I have a hundred other ways to make your life miserable."