He Promised Me Forever, Then Took My Eyes for Her

The ice-cold water slammed against my skin, jolting me awake. Before I could react, a pair of rough hands yanked me out of the doghouse. In the dim glow of the courtyard light, I saw the face of Wendell.

"What do you want?" I asked, voice hoarse from the cold.

He sneered, his expression twisted with cruelty. "Did you really think bringing you back meant welcoming you into the Weber Family?"

He wrapped a metal chain around my neck, pulling it tight. I stared at him, not struggling—only watching him with quiet confusion.

"You used to follow me like a shadow," I said. "Why the sudden betrayal? Was it Diane’s return that turned you?"

He laughed coldly. "I followed you because you were favored by Andrew. But when Diane came back, you were discarded like trash. That’s the real world, Geneva. In a family like ours, being obedient gets you nowhere."

His grip on the chain tightened, choking my breath. "In your next life, learn to beg properly. And don’t cross paths with Andrew again."

My vision blurred. As darkness crept in, I reached for the dagger hidden in my sleeve. But before I could strike, a sharp gleam flew through the air and embedded itself in Wendell’s foot.

He screamed and released me.

"You’ve got guts," a cold voice said from behind him.

Andrew stood at the top of the stairs, a long robe wrapped hastily around him. The scent of desire still clung to him—he had come straight from Diane’s bed.

Wendell dropped to his knees, clutching his foot. "Sir Andrew, I don’t understand why you’re keeping her alive. Why not just take her eyes and be done with it? Why pretend to marry her?"

Andrew's expression didn’t waver. "You dare question me?"

A beat of silence. Then his voice dropped, deadly calm. "If you interfere again, the next blade will pierce your heart."

Wendell scrambled away.

I clutched the bruises on my neck and crawled toward the doghouse, but before I could reach it, a hand gripped my chin hard. Andrew crouched before me, face cold, voice colder.

"Starting tomorrow, you won’t live in the doghouse. We’re getting married, and you’ll receive the ‘treatment’ you deserve." He paused, his thumb pressing into my jaw. "But don’t get any ideas. The only thing I value about you is your eyes. No matter how devoted you are, you’ll never have a place in my heart. Understand?"

I nodded, eyes lowered. "I understand."

But deep inside, a memory surfaced—seven years ago, on a rain-soaked night. I had carried Andrew, half-dead, from a mound of corpses. He had touched my cheek with a bloodied hand and whispered, "You saved me. My life is yours now."

He had grown up and learned to walk again—but the first thing he did as a man was cast aside the crutches that held him up.

That night, he took me back to the villa. As I turned to find a guest room, his voice stopped me.

"Don’t bother. Just keep watch outside my and Diane’s door. Wasn’t it your specialty to serve me?"

The cold of the corridor bit deeper than the winter winds. I curled up like a stray mutt at the threshold of the room where he now lay tangled with another woman.

I’d stood watch for him once, through fevers and wounds. Now I guarded his pleasure.

But it was still better than the mental hospital. At least here, I wasn’t being electrocuted or starved.

I drifted into sleep—until the sharp pain of something crushing my face woke me.

A high heel.

Diane stepped on me as if I were trash on the ground, her expression innocent.

I clenched my fists but said nothing.

“Geneva, I remember how good you used to be. After I was done with Andrew, you’d come in and clean everything up. Five years in that asylum, and you’ve forgotten the rules?”

She leaned close, smiling sweetly. “From start to finish, you were never anything more than the Weber Family’s loyal dog.”

I bowed my head and apologized softly. Around me, the room’s details swirled—familiar. Too familiar.

The soft ivory palette, the delicate patterns on the wallpaper, the curve of the armchair—I had chosen it all. Even the clothes in the closet—agile, elegant—were pieces I had custom-made. But none were in my size.

He had been preparing for Diane’s return long before I ever suspected.

While I had been dreaming of becoming Mrs. Weber, he had been plotting to make me the dressmaker for someone else's wedding.

I glanced at the calendar. The wedding date loomed like a knife.

"Why are you staring at it?" Diane’s voice came from behind me. "Excited? Counting the days until you die?"

A flash of silver—her butterfly knife came at me fast. I jerked aside, but not fast enough. A shallow cut opened on my cheek.

She blinked in surprise. "You dodged?"

Then her smile turned cold. "You’ve been pretending to be obedient, haven’t you?"