Three Years Stolen — Basement Prison

Crash—

The crystal trophy slipped from Sophie’s hand and shattered on the ground.

“Oh no, sorry, sister, my hand slipped.”

She laughed, cruel yet innocent.

“But it doesn’t matter. You won’t be needing it anymore.”

Her actions completely ignited my fury.

I leapt to my feet and tore the contract in half.

“I will not sign it!”

I shouted at my parents.

“Even if you beat me to death today, I will never sign!”

“Courting death!”

My father, enraged beyond reason, ripped off his belt again and swung it at me with no restraint this time.

The belt cracked through the air before slashing into me.

The wounds that had just been treated split open again, leaving raw flesh exposed and bleeding.

I curled up on the floor, my consciousness blurring from the pain.

“Stop!”

My mother suddenly spoke.

For a fleeting moment, I thought she had grown a conscience.

But then—

“Don’t beat her too much. If she’s broken, how will we deliver her to the Dawson family tomorrow?”

My heart turned completely to ash.

“I’ll handle it.”

From the doctor’s medical kit, she pulled out a syringe.

“This is a sedative. Beating you isn’t working—it’ll make you more obedient.”

Terror gripped me as I realized my own mother intended to drug me.

I struggled desperately, but after the savage beating, my body had no strength left.

My father and Sophie pinned me down from either side.

I felt the cold sting of the needle pierce my skin.

Before darkness swallowed me whole, I caught one last sight: Sophie clutching my hand, pressing it onto the contract, leaving my fingerprint as a seal.

…

When I woke again, it was already midnight.

I had been moved to a bedroom. My entire body ached as though it had been torn apart.

From outside came the sound of laughter—my parents and Sophie. Along with it, the acrid smell of burning paper.

Dragging myself to the door, I peered through the crack.

They were huddled around a brazier, feeding the flames with every last one of my business plans and the legal documents from my overseas company—burning them sheet by sheet.

Three years of blood and sweat, my carefully prepared safety net—destroyed before my eyes.

They were determined to erase me completely.

I couldn’t even muster the strength to scream stop.

Sensing movement, my mother strode toward the door.

It swung open roughly. She looked down on me as if I were nothing but trash waiting to be disposed of.

“The wedding dress will arrive tomorrow morning.”

“This is your final contribution to this family.”

“After the wedding, the Bennett family will have only one daughter.”

“She will be the Bennett family’s only daughter—Sophie Miller.”

She turned and left, as if even one more glance at me was revolting.

The door locked behind her.

Moments later, Sophie’s voice floated through the wood, sickly sweet.

“Thank you for making this possible, sister. From tomorrow on—your parents, your room, everything that was yours… it’ll all be mine.”

At dawn the next day, the door burst open.

Several burly maids entered, holding a blood-red wedding gown in their arms.

I sneered. Clearly, they had chosen ones strong enough to subdue me.

“Miss, it’s time. Put the dress on and come with us.”

“Don’t waste words. Just force it on her. She’s no young lady anymore.”

“Miss Sophie gave orders—whoever can subdue her the fastest will be rewarded. Let’s go!”