We Had Three Babies, He Killed Them for My Sister

Rylee’s POV

“No!”

I screamed, thrusting my hand into the fire but still couldn’t grab it.

The necklace vanished into the flames.

Guests turned their heads toward me at the sound of my scream.

They watched in disbelief as I, like a madwoman, risked burns and pain to reach into the fire.

Dad immediately barked orders to the bodyguards beside him.

“Pull her up! She’s screaming like a lunatic—so embarrassing!”

The bodyguards immediately obliged and yanked me to my feet.

Dad gave me a disdainful glance.

“Throw her in the basement!”

With that, I was dragged away.

When Vlad carried Madeline past me, he didn’t even spare me a glance.

I struggled and screamed, but it was useless. I felt like a broken doll being tossed around at someone else’s whim.

I watched the bonfire blaze, and the last flicker of hope in my heart shattered completely.

Raging anger surged through my chest, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

They threw me into the dark, damp basement, the air thick with the smell of mold.

I curled up in a corner, shivering, my heartache intensifying until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I’m afraid of the dark; I have claustrophobia. And Vlad knows this better than anyone.

My consciousness started to blur, and uncontrollable memories flooded my mind.

I remembered the time I was trapped in the attic for a full day and night, just as dark and damp.

I was so scared that my whole body shook, crying until I lost my voice.

It was Vlad who, like a man possessed, found me and held me, whispering gently.

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

After that, he installed lights in every corner of the villa.

During storms and heavy rain, no matter where he was, he would rush home and hold me, telling me not to be afraid.

Suddenly, I snapped back to the present. My heart was pounding wildly, sweat soaking my body.

Darkness enveloped me, only fear pressing in from all sides.

I don’t know how much time passed before the basement door finally opened. The blinding light made me squint instinctively.

I stumbled, leaning on the wall, and slowly made my way out.

My parents stood there, their faces still dark despite the backlight.

“Rylee, will you admit your mistake now?”

I looked at them, a faint smile tugging at my lips, and shook my head.

“I did nothing wrong.”

Without another glance at their expressions, I turned and went back to my room.

The warm water from the shower thawed my freezing body, but it couldn’t wash away the pain and hatred embedded in my bones.

No sooner had I finished than my bedroom door was kicked open.

My parents stormed in, faces twisted in rage, impatience written all over them.

“What are you dawdling for? Maddie is crying in pain at the hospital! You better go apologize to her!”

Dad grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the door with enough force to feel like he might crush my bones.

“Stop pretending! Hurry! Luckily, Maddie’s fine. If anything happened to her, I’d skin you alive!”

I had no strength to resist. They shoved me into the car, speeding toward the hospital.

The entire way, they muttered over and over, worried about Madeline’s condition, without a single word about my injuries or whether I’d been fed in the basement.

When we arrived at the VIP ward on the top floor, a nurse suddenly rushed out of Madeline’s room in a panic.

“Miss Madeline has a sudden drop in clotting function. We urgently need Rh-negative blood, or it could be dangerous!”

Through the half-open door, I saw Vlad anxiously holding Madeline.

At that, Mom panicked, pushing me toward the doctor with urgency.

“Doctor, take her blood! It can be used!”

Dad chimed in, “Yes, take as much as you need!”

I stood frozen, my blood seeming to congeal in my veins.

I looked at my biological parents, and all I saw in their eyes was concern for Madeline—not a trace of care for me.

Even though I knew they were always like this, hearing it firsthand still hurt.

The doctor frowned, examining my pale face, then sighed.

“Let’s run some tests first.”

I was pushed into the examination room and assessed.

Once the doctor learned I had recently had a miscarriage, his expression turned grave, and he moved to refuse my parents’ request.

“She just had a miscarriage. She’s too weak. Drawing her blood now could be life-threatening.”

But my parents didn’t care, cutting him off.

“Impossible! She’s tough!”