He Promised Me Forever, Then Took My Eyes for Her

I was about to head upstairs to my old room to rest when I was intercepted by Beatriz—my so-called best friend. She stood in my way, her arms folded, looking me up and down like I was some stray mutt who’d wandered into the wrong house.

"Still clinging to your past glory as Miss Geneva, shining by Mr. Weber’s side?" she sneered. "Now that Diane is back, it’s time you learned your place."

I kept my voice calm. “Then where’s my room?”

She lifted her chin, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. Around us, the crowd that had once praised me now laughed behind their wine glasses. I turned slowly to see where she was pointing.

In the far corner of the courtyard stood a weathered wooden shack—its walls splintered, paint chipped, covered in deep bite marks. A Rottweiler stood guard beside it, panting heavily, its chain taut with tension.

“There,” Beatriz said sweetly. “That’s your new room. And that’s your new roommate.”

Laughter erupted.

I glanced at Andrew, but he remained silent, unmoved, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. My former follower, Wendell, chuckled cruelly.

“Go on. You’re lucky to share a room with the guard dog. After all, you’re just a lunatic. What right do you have to be in the Weber Family’s house?”

“Better hope it doesn’t tear you apart in your sleep,” another added, snorting. “Bit a bodyguard to death last month.”

“A madwoman and a mad dog—what a perfect match!”

More laughter.

I pushed open the gate to the backyard. The Rottweiler let out a bone-chilling growl and lunged, stopping just five centimeters from my leg. The iron chain snapped tight, clanging violently against its post. One step further and I would have been torn apart.

“Geneva, don’t bark,” a soft voice called behind me.

The dog stilled immediately and lowered itself to the ground. Diane approached slowly, leaning on a cane, her expression cloaked in gentle pity. She smiled, holding out a piece of raw meat, and the dog licked her hand obediently.

“Sorry—did I scare you?” she asked sweetly. “This is Geneva. Andrew and I raised him together. Funny, right? Same name as you.”

Yes. Just like the dog, I had bled and labored for this family. And now I was being fed scraps.

“Diane, careful,” someone warned behind her.

She moved closer, eyes hidden beneath gauze, and whispered in a voice only I could hear:

“Did you really think you could walk back into the Weber Family like nothing happened? I won’t let that happen.”

Her words were ice against my spine.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you back then. I didn’t expect you to survive the mental hospital. But this time... you won’t be so fortunate.”

She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

“The night before your little wedding, I’ll make sure there’s not even a body left to bury.”

And then I knew—she wasn’t blind at all.

The gauze was a lie. A trap. Everything had been planned so I could die without suspicion.

She straightened, the picture of elegance. Between her fingers was a small, barely visible scrap of paper—dosed with stimulants.

Before I could react, her cane struck me hard in the back. Pain exploded through my spine and I collapsed. The next moment, white-hot agony pierced my ankle.

The Rottweiler had sunk its teeth into my leg and was dragging me across the courtyard like a rag doll. I barely registered the gasps or the sound of my own blood soaking into the garden soil. I reached out instinctively, searching for something—anything—to hold onto.

My eyes darted around in panic. Through the blur, I saw Andrew rushing toward Diane—not me.

“Diane, get inside! Don’t let the dog hurt you!”

“What’s wrong with this dog today? Why is it attacking people all of a sudden?”

The servants kept their distance. No one dared step forward. Inside the villa, the rest watched through the glass, sipping wine and laughing like it was a circus performance.

“I haven’t seen a dog fight in ages. Think she’ll bleed out before it finishes?”

“I’ve got ten grand on the dog. Anyone betting?”

In their eyes, I was less than human.

Andrew’s gaze finally landed on me. A flicker of worry—not for me, but for the condition of my eyes. Would the damage affect the transplant?

The Rottweiler, now twitching from the drugs, growled again—its eyes bloodshot, its jaws snapping toward my throat.

But I was no longer the obedient canary they remembered. Years of torment in the asylum had taught me one thing: how to survive.

Silently, I reached into my sleeve. My fingers found the dagger I always kept hidden.

“Kill her!” someone shouted.

The dog lunged.

I raised my arm to shield my face. Its teeth tore into my flesh, blood erupting from the wound. Pain threatened to blind me, but I grit my teeth, twisted my body, and plunged the blade into its abdomen.

A howl pierced the courtyard. The dog staggered back, whimpering, then collapsed.

“What the hell?” Andrew barked. “Why isn’t it moving?”

Two bodyguards rushed over to check.

“Sir Andrew... it’s dead.”

Silence.

Everyone stared at me, stunned. Disbelief twisted their faces. They hadn’t expected me to fight back, let alone win.

Diane burst into tears, collapsing into Andrew’s arms.

“My Geneva… How could she be so cruel? I’m blind now. Andrew, you’re just going to let her kill our dog?”

Andrew’s eyes flicked back to me. I knelt in the blood-soaked snow, covering my mangled arm and ankle, looking up at him with practiced innocence.

“I didn’t kill it,” I said softly. “There was a sharp stone on the ground.”

His gaze narrowed. For a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then he sighed.

“You promised to donate your eyes. I’ll let this go.” His voice dropped. “From now on, you sleep in the doghouse. Don’t set foot in the Weber Family’s main house again. Understand?”

I nodded meekly.

That night, wrapped in a thin cotton blanket inside the cold wooden shack, I watched snowflakes fall silently through the slats above. The cold pierced my skin, but I’d known worse. The hospital was colder. Lonelier. In there, I was whipped, shocked, humiliated—broken until I became something else.

Outside, through the frost-covered glass, I saw Diane and Andrew’s shadows moving close together—laughing, drinking, embracing.

That used to be my place.

I curled into myself, holding the blade in my hand.

In the dead of night, I heard footsteps crunching in the snow.

I gripped the dagger tighter.

The door creaked open.

Then—splash.

A basin of ice water crashed down on me.