Chapter 3

Cyrus' POV

After I jumped into the ocean, they pulled me out not long afterward. The water was freezing, and I was shivering uncontrollably as I stood there, dripping wet.

Marissa's pretty face was twisted with anger.

"Cyrus, are you insane? Why would you jump into the ocean in the middle of winter? Do you have a death wish?"

I kept my head down, avoiding her gaze as I used the towel in my hands to dry my hair. In a low voice, I asked, "Are you going to keep your word?"

Her anger only seemed to intensify. With a sharp sweep of her arm, she knocked the wine glasses off the table, sending them crashing to the floor.

"Fine. You really are something. I'll give you exactly what you want."

…

Marissa kept her promise. She showed up at Elena's birthday dinner, but she brought Damian with her.

Elena was furious, and whispers immediately spread among the guests. Countless eyes turned toward me, filled with contempt and disdain. I kept my expression calm, but my tightly clenched hands trembled slightly beneath the table.

I couldn't help thinking that Marissa truly hated me. She never missed an opportunity to humiliate me and drag what little dignity I had left through the dirt.

After dinner, Elena summoned me to the backyard of the villa and ordered me to kneel. She was furious with Marissa, but now that her daughter had grown strong enough to stand on her own, she couldn't punish her the way she used to.

So instead, she punished me, using my humiliation as a warning to Marissa.

What Elena didn't know was that Marissa didn't care about me in the slightest. In fact, every outrageous thing she did was deliberate. She wasn't trying to hurt me just for the sake of hurting me. She was provoking her mother, knowing that every time she crossed the line, Elena would take her anger out on me instead.

My knees were pressed against the hard, uneven gravel, and the pain had already faded into a dull numbness. Worse, after spending the afternoon soaked in freezing seawater, I could feel a fever coming on.

My head grew heavier by the second, and my vision kept fading in and out.

That was when Marissa walked over and stopped in front of me, looking down at me with barely contained anger.

"Cyrus, do you really have no dignity?"

I let out a bitter laugh and looked up at her. "Isn't this what you wanted? You wanted me to live like some pathetic animal with no dignity. Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

My vision was so blurry that I could barely make out her face, but I could still feel the fury radiating from her.

Her eyes seemed to cut into me like blades as she snapped, "Yeah. Someone as shameless and money-hungry as you doesn't deserve any dignity. Aren't you my mom's most loyal lapdog? As long as there's money involved, you'd do anything."

Her words were vicious, each one striking straight into my heart. I dug my fingernails into my palms until beads of blood seeped between my fingers, but I barely felt the pain. The ache in my chest was so much worse.

I gave her a bitter smile.

Of course, I wanted to have some dignity. But what good was dignity when it couldn't put food on my table or keep me warm? What good was pride when I couldn't even afford to survive? In the end, dignity was useless.

Marissa hated me because she believed I had betrayed her once. She always said the same thing: "Someone who betrays you can never be forgiven." But the truth was, I had never betrayed her.

During the second semester of our sophomore year of high school, Marissa and I went on a school-organized summer camp trip. Somehow, our whereabouts got out, and enemies of the Caldwell family took advantage of the opportunity to kidnap us.

They locked us in a dark, damp basement where rats and cockroaches scurried through every corner.

Marissa had always been in poor health, and it didn't take long for her to develop a high fever. Her face burned with heat, her breath came out scorching, and she drifted in and out of consciousness.

Eventually, she curled up in my arms, tears welling in her glassy eyes. "Cyrus, am I going to die?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

I held her tightly, using my own body heat to keep her warm. Leaning close to her ear, I whispered firmly, "No. You're going to be okay, Marissa. You're going to live a long, healthy life. I'll make sure you're safe."

The next day, desperate to get help for her, I called out to the man who brought us our food and asked him to come inside.

The moment his guard dropped, I grabbed a loose piece of stone from the wall and slammed it against the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. I didn't waste a second. I hoisted Marissa onto my back and hurried out of the basement, carrying her as far away from that place as I could.