Stolen Body, Shattered Heart

Dorothy stood frozen and said, "I won’t!"

"You don’t get to refuse!"

Without warning, Kyrie rose, his hand curling into her hair as he forced her to her knees before Portia.

"Let me go!"

Dorothy fought against his grip, but Kyrie’s words struck her like a blow to the chest, draining all strength from her.

"Dorothy, don’t forget about your brother."

Her body went rigid, collapsing onto the floor like a lifeless doll.

Ivan Howell, her younger brother, lay in a hospital bed, battling both heart disease and leukemia. Each round of chemotherapy came with a bill she couldn’t pay.

She had no choice but to depend on Kyrie.

Kyrie knew Ivan was her only family and he used that fact to twist the knife, keeping her bound in a life of humiliation, forcing her to crawl like a dog.

Portia’s soft laugh filled the room as she casually poked Dorothy’s shoulder with her toe. "The hospital’s asking for more money, isn’t it? Or have you somehow managed to scrape together enough?"

Dorothy clenched her teeth so tightly that her palms bled from the force of her grip.

"I’ll put the socks on for you."

In the end, she chose to give in, lowering her head as she picked up the socks handed to her by a servant, her fingers trembling as she slid them onto Portia’s feet.

"Forget it. I don’t feel like wearing them anymore."

Portia kicked the socks aside carelessly, her gaze shifting to Kyrie with a soft whine. "Kyrie, I’m getting sleepy again. Stay with me. You can’t just leave this time because of some random person, okay?"

Kyrie picked her up effortlessly and kissed her forehead. "Don’t worry. I won’t leave you this time."

Dorothy’s hands tightened on the hem of his pants, her voice barely a whisper. "Kyrie, my brother’s chemotherapy fees…"

Before Kyrie could respond, Portia’s sharp and disapproving voice sliced through the air. "Who allowed you to call him that?"

"Who gave you the right to speak of him that way?"

Kyrie’s face darkened with anger as he kicked Dorothy aside, his voice low and menacing. "Don’t make me remind you again."

Fighting back the tears, Dorothy lowered herself even further, her forehead touching the cold floor. "Mr. Leonard, please…"

Portia giggled, her voice laced with cruel amusement. "How pitiful!"

Kyrie’s gaze turned colder, darker, as he fixed his eyes on Dorothy for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a sharp motion, he pulled out a black and gold card and flung it at her face.

"Take it and get lost!"

With that, he lifted Portia effortlessly and carried her into the bedroom.

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing in Dorothy’s chest like a heart shattering into pieces. The pain was a heavyweight, suffocating her, stealing her breath.

She wiped her tears away numbly, her fingers trembling as she carefully picked up the card and slipped it into her pocket. Without a word, she hailed a cab to the hospital.

Inside the VIP ward, Ivan lay on the hospital bed, his skin so pale he looked like a delicate glass doll, one that could shatter with the slightest touch.

The chemotherapy had taken his hair, leaving him looking even more fragile. Still, it hadn’t taken away the striking beauty in his features. His fragility seemed to add an almost ethereal purity to his appearance.

Dorothy looked at him, her heart aching, her eyes turning red. Her brother was the only one who had never turned away from her in the past six years.

When everyone else accepted Portia, only Ivan stood firm, his voice raw and fury. "You shameless woman! Give my sister back her body! What right do you have to steal her life?!"

"Sis!"

Ivan gasped suddenly, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. His eyes snapped open and when they found Dorothy beside him, they softened, a quiet relief washing over his face. "Sister, you're here."

Dorothy quickly wiped the corners of her eyes, her voice gentle as she leaned closer. "Are you feeling unwell today, Ivan?"

Ivan’s gaze dropped to her face, his eyes narrowing when he saw the fading red marks on her skin. His voice turned dark with anger.

"Did that bastard Kyrie hurt you again?!"

Dorothy lowered her head, her words soft and dismissive. "No, don't worry about it."

"Do you want some apples? I’ll peel one for you."