Cold Betrayal Took Her, Warm Revenge Set Her Free

She should have never meddled.

In the end, a self-deprecating smile curled on Daisy’s lips as she turned toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her father’s voice, cold and seething with silent fury, stopped her in her tracks.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy spoke the words she had long steeled herself to say: “I’m cutting ties with the Johnson Family. I’m leaving.”

A collective shift in the room was palpable.

“Don’t even think about it!” her father growled. “If I have to beat you into submission today, I won’t let you disgrace the Johnson Family outside! Someone, bring the whip!”

A servant hurried forward with a horsewhip, the cold crack of leather snapping through the air.

Daisy was forcefully pinned to the ground and the whip lashed down, searing through her skin and leaving a trail of blood on her back. But the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation that gripped her.

Yet this scene of cruelty unfolded with no one stepping in to stop it. All eyes remained icy and indifferent.

By the end, her back was a mangled mess of raw flesh and she collapsed, her body succumbing to the excruciating agony.

How much time had passed, she wasn’t sure, but the cold air brought her back to consciousness.

Opening her eyes, Daisy saw Desmond sitting by her bed, his hands gentle as he applied medicine to her wounds.

In the dim light, his features were soft, calm and refined, but Daisy recoiled from his touch.

Desmond glanced up at her. “Does it hurt?”

Daisy remained silent.

Desmond reached out, brushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen over Daisy’s ear. "Daisy, there's only so much one can take. If you push too far, all you're doing is digging your own grave, don't you think?"

Daisy remained silent, her gaze distant, as though she could no longer bear to look at him.

She used to argue and push back because she still harbored some flicker of hope and some expectation for these people.

But now, those feelings had turned to ash. She no longer cared for their words, their lies.

Desmond had planned to speak with her and try to reason with Daisy. He wanted to tell her that if she continued down this path, her bitterness would only consume her.

He wanted to say that, despite the scars that marred her face, he would still see her for who she truly was. He wished she could return to the carefree, kind-hearted girl she once was.

He wanted to explain that Heather had feelings for him, that she had fallen into a dark place when he didn’t return them, but that he had always seen her as a sister.

Once Heather was well again, Desmond intended to marry her.

But Daisy remained as cold and distant as ever, her walls firmly in place.

"Don’t shut me out, Daisy!" Desmond's voice grew sharp, tinged with frustration.

Just as Desmond’s patience was about to snap, Heather entered the room. "Desmond, let me speak with my sister. The conflict between the two of you is all because of me. If we clear the air, things will be easier to fix."

Desmond paused, contemplating her words. After a moment, he conceded, realizing that her suggestion wasn’t entirely without merit. However, a lingering hesitation gnawed at him; he worried Daisy might lash out again.

"Don’t worry," Heather reassured him, "she’s been beaten to the point of exhaustion. What strength does she have left to hurt me?"

Once Desmond left, Heather wiped away her crocodile tears and turned to Daisy with a sinister smile. "I didn’t expect you to overhear the conversation between Dad and me."

"Surprised, aren’t you? Your real father actually wants you dead."

"I was just trying to figure out how to replace you when Desmond came to me. And now, he’s chosen me over you time and time again."

"Your mom is even more pathetic, favoring the daughter of the mistress over her own flesh and blood."

Heather’s fingers grazed the burn scars on Daisy’s face as she sighed. "I almost feel sorry for you."

"How about I help end your misery?"

Daisy’s instincts screamed in warning. "What are you doing?"

"I heard you have blood clots in your brain. One wrong move and you’ll be a vegetable again," Heather said, dragging Daisy toward the stairs.

Daisy realized what was happening, but she didn’t have the strength to resist.

Helplessly, she watched as Heather forced her down the stairs.

A deafening crash echoed through the stairwell.

Daisy’s head slammed against the floor and for a few moments, she was enveloped in a haze of nothingness, just like the lifeless state she had once known.