I Was the Foolish Heiress. Now I’m the Executioner

Nadine stumbled forward, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. With her vision obscured, she misstepped, her foot catching on the edge of the flowerbed, nearly causing her to fall.

Victor sprang into action like a reflex, rushing in to catch her and wrapping her gently in his arms.

"Nadine, this isn't your fault," he said, voice soft and reassuring. "The doctor said lavender helps calm your nerves and supports vision recovery. As for Selena… she'll be fine, as long as she keeps up with her allergy meds."

Then he turned toward me, his voice trying to sound reasonable.

"Selena, your father and Aunt Marilyn aren't young anymore. It's hard on them, trying to look after Nadine. Her staying here doesn't really affect you, right? You're the older sister. Can't you be a little more understanding?"

I nearly laughed.

The Victor I knew? He never would've called my stepmother, Marilyn, 'Aunt' in front of me. Not in a million years.

He was the butler's son, a man who climbed his way up through charm, grit, and sheer shamelessness—supported at every turn by my mother's generosity and my own blind loyalty.

I still remember how he used to parade his flavor-of-the-month girlfriends right in front of me, each one more desperate than the last, trying to get my reaction. He was obsessed with making me jealous—all that effort, to see if I cared.

And out of all those eight flings?

He ended up falling for Nadine.

It was unreal.

In the end, both Nadine and the lavender stayed.

And me? I broke out in full-body hives. The rashes itched so severely that they made my skin feel like it was on fire.

That evening, I went downstairs to find allergy meds. I wasn't trying to snoop, but when I passed by the study, I heard Victor's voice. Something in his tone made me stop in my tracks.

"Mr. Blackwell," his assistant said, voice uneasy, "your father-in-law only asked that Miss Selena be sent to a standard rehab center overseas to cool off. Why did you send her to that place and have them rough her up for three years?"

Victor's response was calm and almost casual.

"Nadine got hurt because of her and almost ended up disfigured. If I didn't make Selena pay for it, how could Nadine ever be happy? Selena's always been too proud. Too entitled. She thinks she's invincible just because she's the legitimate daughter. She never once took me seriously. The only way to fix that was to break her down, piece by piece."

Then, casually, like he was talking about the weather, he chuckled.

"I promised I'd marry her, sure. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up Nadine. The past three years with her have been peaceful. Now that Selena's finally obedient, I can marry her without all the drama."

I didn't stick around to hear another word.

I turned and quietly walked back to my room.

Once inside, I found the pill bottle, took out one, and let the tablet dissolve on my tongue. It was bitter. Fitting.

The dim light caught my reflection in the mirror. The scars across my skin twisted like black worms, raised and ugly.

Each of them had a story. Every scar showed what I already knew deep inside—that I'd been abandoned.

When they whipped me with red-hot rods, the smell of burning flesh filled the air, thick and nauseating. They laughed through it all.

"Don't expect Victor Blackwell to come save you," they told me. "To him, you're not even worth the dirt on his shoes."

Turns out they weren't exaggerating.

If I'd known all that back then, maybe I would've poured the acid down their throats a little more slowly. Let them feel it.

My phone buzzed suddenly, snapping me out of the memory. I answered without checking the number.

"Miss," a voice said on the other end, low and crisp, "the renovation is almost complete. I'll bring the team to pick you up tomorrow night."

"Good," I said evenly. "Once I retrieve what I need, we'll begin the plan."

Three years.

For three years, Victor didn't visit me. Not once.

While he and Nadine lived in their made-up fairytale, the monsters he sent to "reform" me became real ones—twisted, half-human things that rotted from the inside out.

The place that broke me?

It belonged to me now.

And everything they did to me—all the pain, all the humiliation?

I'd return it.

Dripping in blood.

. . .

Half an hour passed, Victor opened the bedroom door and entered, carrying a basin of steaming water. The way he moved almost seemed familiar, as if the past hadn't happened.

He kneeled, just like he used to when we were kids, and reached for my feet.

I raised an eyebrow and kept my tone flat. "Mr. Blackwell, you're a big shot now. A man of success. Why are you doing a servant's job?"

Victor gave me a faint smile. "Even if I became king, you'd still be my Miss Selena. Serving you is only right."

Eyes drifted down to my feet, where the cigarette burns still marked my skin. Victor's gaze softened with what looked like guilt, though I knew better.

"Selena, you suffered these past three years. I didn't know they went that far. I swear, I'll make them pay for what they did to you."

I looked right at him, straight through the fake concern, the sugar-coated voice, the rehearsed expression.

"When you sent me there," I said calmly, "you already knew exactly what I'd be walking into. If you actually cared, you would've come for me a long time ago, wouldn't you?"