Christian Ashwood sat slumped in a chair inside Janverton Central Hospital, his face blank. In his hand was a freshly printed medical report that he clutched so tightly the paper had crumpled. On it was a string of words—severe heavy metal poisoning with levels massively above the limit.
His mind dragged itself back over the past three years since his reunion with the Ashwood family. He had grown up believing he was an orphan up until three years ago, when his biological parents suddenly appeared.
Christian had been overjoyed. Most kids in orphanages had an obsession with their birth parents; he was no exception. He'd followed his parents home in high spirits.
At 15, he thought he'd finally been saved. He never imagined that what awaited him wasn't the warmth of a family, but a prison. No—what he was trapped in was worse than a prison.
His birth parents and three older sisters were like the twisted inmates in a prison cell, always finding new ways to torment him. The family's adopted son was even worse. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing who framed Christian at every turn, setting him up again and again.
So, the people who shared Christian's blood had become his executioners, while the adopted son played the part of a perfect little angel.
Christian couldn't wrap his head around it. He was their biological son and brother. Why did they treat him like he was their enemy?
He had planned to cut ties with them after sitting for his high school finals, but they never gave him the chance. They'd gone straight for the root and made sure he'd never get that far.
Heavy metal poisoning.
Christian was certain the source was in the Ashwood family. As for who did it, the primary suspect was Victor Ashwood, the adopted son. Christian's return threatened him most, after all.
Killing Christian was a small price to pay in exchange for tens of billions in inheritance. He didn't doubt that Victor would stoop to killing any of the other Ashwoods if they stopped him from getting the family fortune.
The second suspect was Christian's second sister, Felicia Ashwood. Rare heavy metals like the one he'd been poisoned with couldn't be bought on the open market; it had to come out of a lab. Felicia happened to be a PhD student in a pharmaceutical research lab, so getting her hands on heavy metals would've been easy.
As for everyone else in the family… maybe they didn't know about this, or maybe they'd just watched from the sidelines. Either way, Christian no longer cared. He was done giving them the benefit of the doubt; he didn't mind assuming the worst of his family. Or rather, from this moment on, they were no longer family to him.
He sat there in a daze for a while longer before finally getting to his feet and stuffing the report into his backpack. According to the doctor, his condition would be hard to cure even with treatment, and the process would take a very long time.
The toxins had already fused into his body. If he didn't treat it, the poison would soon attack his brain and nervous system, leaving him in agony between life and death.
Honestly, Christian himself had no intention of seeking treatment. First, he had no money, and he didn't believe for a second that his so-called family would pay for it. Second, he was filled with hatred. As far as he was concerned, the only path left for him was to wait for death.
But before he died, he had debts to settle and grudges to repay. If he was going to die, he was taking someone with him.
Christian's fingers dug into the straps of his backpack so hard that red and white blotches mottled the backs of his hands. His body had already started to show all kinds of symptoms; he didn't know when he might simply collapse. That meant he had to move fast. Once he lost control of his own body, revenge would be impossible.
As for who had to die, there was no debate. It had to be Victor. The Ashwoods all doted on him, didn't they? Then Christian would destroy him. He would make years of careful grooming go up in smoke.
He left the hospital and found a small hardware store nearby. He used most of the loose bills he had to buy an eight-inch fruit knife. If he was going to kill someone, the blade had to be long enough to do it in one strike. He would deliver one stab straight to the heart, leaving them with no chance to resuscitate.
The blade was flat and polished, reflecting his own pale face like a mirror. Christian's features were chiseled and handsome, a perfect blend of his parents' genes. In fact, all four Ashwood children were good-looking. His three older sisters were well-known beauties and campus belles at their schools. They just had rotten hearts underneath.
A mocking smile tugged at his lips. He put the knife away and headed home.
The Ashwood residence was in the wealthy villa district of North Janverton, with lush landscaping and clean air. Anyone who could live there was among the city's elite, and even there, the Ashwoods stood out. Their villa alone sat on three acres of land, making it the largest and most luxurious in the entire neighborhood.
Christian forced himself to stay conscious through waves of dizziness and nausea on the way back. When he finally walked into the Ashwood residence, he saw his parents, sisters, and Victor all sitting together on the couch, chatting and laughing. He couldn't help but let out a bitter, self-deprecating smile.
His third sister, Lydia Ashwood, spotted him first and snapped, "Where did you run off to again? Do you not know your finals are right around the corner? Look at Vic—school's out, and he's still studying here at home. And you? You're useless."
Felicia merely shot him a look full of disgust and muttered something about him being a nuisance. His eldest sister, Hilda Ashwood, didn't so much as glance his way, as if he didn't exist at all.
His father, George Ashwood, wasn't as blatant as his three daughters, but he still frowned at Christian and said, "You ran off early in the morning to go mess around again, didn't you? Quit running around with those lowlife friends of yours."
His mother, Jennifer Zeller, didn't say a word. She just gave him a cool, indifferent look.
Christian took in every look on their faces and tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack. Even after three years of the same treatment, that naked disgust and cold indifference from his own parents and sisters still made his chest ache.
He bit down on the tip of his tongue, forcing himself to stay sharp through the waves of dizziness as he tried to figure out how to get Victor alone. The latter was seated between George and Jennifer, with the three sisters spread out along the couches on either side.
In his current condition, he would never overpower all of them at once. He needed to find a way to draw his parents away or lure Victor over on his own.
"I'm talking to you, you imbecile. Are you deaf?" George snapped when Christian didn't respond, his temper flaring.
Seeing his father lose it, Christian's eyes flashed. A plan was already taking shape.
Taking on two people might be beyond him, but if he could isolate just one, he still had a chance. And with a knife in hand, they would have to think twice before pouncing on him. If he could goad George into pulling him aside to teach him a lesson, that might give him the opening he needed.
Having made up his mind, Christian said lazily, "I'm not deaf, but you might be blind."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the whole family froze. Christian had always been quiet and obedient—dull, even. He'd never talked back, let alone insulted George. Had he lost his mind?
Everyone in the Ashwood family knew how much George prized his authority at home. Even Hilda, who held a top executive position in the family's company, never dared contradict him under this roof.
For a second, George was stunned. His own son had just cursed him out. In all these years, no one besides Jennifer had ever openly defied him. For a brief moment, he was at a total loss.
Victor, on the other hand, was secretly delighted to see Christian's defiance. If Christian wanted to dig his own grave, Victor was more than happy to hand him a bigger shovel. He sprang to his feet and chided, "Chris, how can you talk to Dad like that? He's scolding you for your own good. Hurry up and apologize, and this will blow over."
"It's none of your damn business. Get lost," Christian shot back without even looking at him. He strolled toward Victor with feigned nonchalance, still clutching his backpack.
George snapped out of his daze, and rage surged back. "You imbecile! You ungrateful wretch! Bring me the whip!"
That last sentence was roared at Lydia. She flinched at his bellow and scrambled off to fetch it.
When George pushed himself up from the couch, Christian felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. Jennifer was still frozen in shock, and Victor was too busy enjoying the show to think straight.
By now, Christian was only a few steps away from Victor. George was striding toward him, intent on dragging him off for a beating. Christian knew he couldn't wait any longer.
He yanked the knife out of his backpack in one swift motion. Before anyone could process what was happening, he lunged forward, looping one arm tight around Victor's neck from behind and pressing the knife hard against Victor's throat with his right hand.
"Nobody move!" he shouted, his voice raw. "Move, and I'll kill him."
Everyone had barely recovered from Christian's outburst when this exploded in front of them. For a long moment, they were frozen in shock.
Christian used those precious seconds to drag Victor off the couch with a sudden burst of strength, hauling him backward across the room toward the living room wall.
"C-Chris, what are you doing? Don't scare me like this!" Victor shouted, his voice shaking with genuine terror.
Jennifer was the first to snap out of it. She lunged toward Christian, shrieking, "What do you think you're doing, you monster? Let Victor go!"
"Stay right there. Don't you dare move!" Christian barked, driving the fruit knife straight into Victor's thigh.
Victor screamed as the pain ripped through him. His legs buckled, and blood spilled down to soak his pants a deep red.
Hilda, Felicia, and Lydia were completely petrified. They'd only ever seen knife attacks in movies and TV shows. Seeing it in real life was a brutal, visceral shock. Their minds went blank; their legs felt like they were made of cement.
"Stop!" George yelled when he saw the knife buried in Victor's leg.
Jennifer had gone rigid with fear. She didn't dare rush in again.
Christian stared at his parents and sisters, his expression ice cold. "None of you would listen when I tried to talk to you nicely. You just had to make me resort to violence. Are we calm enough to have a conversation now? If not, I can give him another stab."
No one answered. The five Ashwoods could only stare at him helplessly. The only sound in the room was Victor's ragged sobbing.
"You'd better keep your mouth shut if you don't want another hole in you. One more sound, and I'll stab you again," Christian hissed into Victor's ear.
Victor's cries died in his throat. He had no choice but to endure the pain, trembling violently. He pressed his lips together hard, not daring to make another sound.
"Good. Looks like you all know how to behave after all. Funny—you always met me with glares and contempt when I tried to have proper conversations with you guys before. Anyone who didn't know better would think I was your worst enemy," Christian said.
He paused as a fresh wave of vertigo washed over him. He bit his tongue again to clear his mind.
"Where should I start? Maybe with my life story. I grew up in an orphanage, and I've wanted a family my whole life. When you showed up and told me you were my parents, I was overjoyed. I'd always thought I was just some unwanted stray; I never imagined I actually had parents out there."
He let out a bitter laugh. "I thought once I had a mom and dad, I wouldn't get bullied anymore. No one would call me unwanted or an orphan again. But in reality, nothing's changed. You're supposed to be my family, yet you've done nothing but abuse me.
"I kept asking myself whether I really was related to you guys. How is it possible for parents not to love their children? For three years now, you've beaten me, screamed at me, locked me up, and starved me. Am I some unforgivable sinner? Why don't you answer that? Am I a monster or your nemesis?"
His gaze swept over George and Jennifer, his eyes like ice.
"You've got some nerve complaining. If you weren't always stealing, running around with those punks, and ganging up on your brother, would we treat you this way?" George bellowed.
Christian gave a hollow little laugh. "Stealing? Running with punks? Bullying Victor? Did you ever see any of that happen with your own eyes? Think about it—didn't you only hear about it from Victor every time something happened? You believed every word out of his mouth. Did you ever bother doing any fact-checking yourselves?
"And don't feed me another line about how Victor's always been such a sweet, well-behaved boy. Normal siblings in normal families will fall out over 10 or 20 grand, let alone your massive family fortune. This family is the top of the food chain in Janverton.
"If I fall out of favor, who benefits the most? Don't tell me you can't think of the answer. Or maybe you already know it, and you're just choosing to look the other way. What is he, Dad, your love child?" Christian asked coldly.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" George barked. "I have four kids, and that's it. There's no love child. As for everything you're accusing him of, I'll look into it. But first, put the knife down and let your brother go."
Masuk
4
Lapor
