Chapter 3

She waved a hand, signaling to begin, and an intense scream tore from my lips.

The knife sliced through my skin with a sharp chill, and I felt the warmth of blood slide down my face, trailing along my cheek before dripping onto my clothes and the floor below.

The thick, metallic scent of blood filled my nose.

One cut, then another, and another… I lost track after a while.

Rachel spoke up, her voice shaky. “Marion, aren’t we going too far? What if Mr. Johnson finds out?”

“What are you talking about?” Anya snapped, smacking her on the head. “This is Marion! She’s Mr. Johnson’s most trusted person. Even if he knew, he’d never do anything to her.”

Marion stood there, arms crossed, her chin raised defiantly. “I’m the only woman Mr. Johnson has ever really looked at. He even got rid of his old secretary for me. A little mistress like her? She’s nothing!”

I could no longer pinpoint where the pain was coming from. Everything just throbbed together into one agonizing blur.

I prayed Dad would come soon. If he didn’t, they were really going to kill me.

Marion seemed to enjoy watching me cling to life, but apparently, it wasn’t enough.

Her voice turned cold. “Alright, two of you, come over here. Cut off her hands!”

My legs were already injured, and now she wanted to take my hands, too.

I mustered my remaining strength to spit out, “Marion, right? I’ll remember you!”

“Oh, you still dare to talk back? Who do you think you are, calling Marion like that?” Anya sneered, eager to prove herself in front of Marion.

I gritted my teeth, my whole body trembling. “I’m telling you all. You’re going to pay for this.”

Mom died giving birth to me, and I've missed her every day since. Now, this woman had the nerve to use my mother’s face to get close to Dad, trying to worm her way into our family.

That was never going to happen.

As long as I survived today, they would all pay!

“Oh, still threatening us, are you?” Marion picked up a knife from the floor. She dragged the blade across my face, cutting a fresh line of pain.

Then, without a second thought, she raised the knife and brought it down, severing one of my hands.

The pain was overwhelming, worse than any of the cuts on my face.

I nearly blacked out, half-collapsing onto the floor as my vision blurred with red. Through the haze, I could just make out the sight of my hand lying in a pool of blood nearby.

I whimpered, the agony pulling me under, while Marion looked down at me with satisfaction, exhilarated by my suffering.

“Now for the other one.”

With both my hands severed, Marion finally seemed satisfied, pausing to savor the sight of my tear-streaked face.

Anya and Rachel, beside her, fawned over her. “Congratulations, Marion. Now no one will dare to challenge you for Mr. Johnson’s attention.”

“Marion, you should really take a picture of this scene. Show it to any woman who dares come near him in the future!”

Marion grinned and nodded her head, unable to hide her pleasure. “Good idea. Let’s take some photos. We’ll see who’s brave enough to try to take my place.”

She spent a while snapping pictures of me, humming as she scrolled through them, clearly enjoying every moment.

Then Dad walked in.

He strode into the room, his voice booming with fury. “What’s going on?!”

He glared around the courtyard, his eyes like knives, surveying the bloody scene now crowded with people trying to block his view.

I was barely conscious, too weak to open my eyes. However, I could still hear Marion scramble to pick up one of my severed hands, rushing to meet him with a smug expression.

“Mr. Johnson, I caught a spy sent by a rival company.”

Dad’s gaze drifted over the hand she held, his expression barely changing. Marion quickly added, “This was the hand she used to steal your files. I took care of it.”

She batted her lashes and purred, “Mr. Johnson, I went through so much trouble to find this spy. Aren’t you going to praise me just a little?”

At last, Dad gave a curt nod. “Well done.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson!”

Marion took out her camera, flipping through the photos of me in a blood-soaked heap. “See, Mr. Johnson? These are all of the spy. Now no one will ever dare to steal from your company again!”

The pictures showed me, lying broken and disfigured, my face mangled beyond recognition. Dad couldn’t tell it was me.

After all, as a hard-nosed businessman, he didn’t get to where he was by showing mercy.

“Good. Make sure those photos get around. Let everyone know what happens if they mess with my company!”

He narrowed his eyes, always quick to act with ruthless precision.

Dad, it’s me!

I could feel the bitterness rising as I listened to their voices discussing their plans. Marion, thrilled by Dad’s response, said eagerly, “Absolutely, Mr. Johnson. I’ll make sure they see.”

“Hel…” A small, strangled sound escaped from my throat—a final attempt to call for help.

Dad stopped in his tracks, frowning. “What was that sound?”