Five Years of Exile Taught Me Obedience

Jacob's POV

Three months after returning home, Derrick Carpenter won the National Boxing Championship.

Chelsea Herrera looked at the photo of Derrick holding up his trophy on her phone during the afterparty celebration, and suddenly noticed me in the corner.

She came up to me, her voice trembling slightly. "Jacob Archer. Why aren't you taking photos with Ricky since he won the championship?"

I didn't even look up when I heard her question and simply responded calmly, "I'm not worthy, Ms. Herrera."

She frowned, her sharp gaze sweeping across my face as she tried to find even the slightest hint of pretense or resentment, but I didn't give her the chance. I just continued vigorously cleaning the floor that was as spotless as a mirror.

Derrick then sauntered in through the door with an undisguised smug look on his face.

"Look at my new watch, Chels! Do you think it suits me?"

Chelsea instinctively glanced at me, but I bowed immediately, my tone carrying just the right amount of flattery.

"Of course, Mr. Carpenter. Your taste is naturally excellent."

Chelsea's brow furrowed even more.

I didn't have time to care about her suspicions. Dobey the Doberman's nourishing meat broth was still simmering in the kitchen, and I had to get it.

I turned and went into the kitchen, carefully carrying out the steaming pot of broth.

Derrick sat on the couch, his right hand seemingly casually reaching into Chelsea's shirt. She was looking affectionately at him, but the moment her eyes turned to me, they were filled with malice and iciness instead.

I carefully poured the meat broth into Dobey's special bowl and gently blew on it to cool it down.

Derrick only just seemed to notice me then, and he spoke in a condescending tone. "Come over and sit down to rest for a while after you're done, Jacob."

Chelsea also unusually agreed to it, placing the plate and fork down in front of me. "Thanks for taking care of Ricky and Dobey these past few days."

I lowered my eyes, a humble smile curving my lips. "It's my honor to serve Mr. Carpenter and Dobey, Ms. Herrera. It's no trouble at all."

Derrick smiled contentedly, raising his hand to rub circles into Chelsea's waist. "Jacob's being a lot more sensible and obedient now, Chels. Maybe you should consider giving him a little more pocket money."

I listened respectfully, recalling the last time Derrick saw her casually tossing an unwanted T-shirt at me some time ago, and then, Dobey suddenly went berserk that very night, biting me so hard that I bled profusely all over the place.

Those wounds were still throbbing as I thought of it.

I knew that this was Derrick's way of "disciplining" me, telling me to know my place.

After dinner, Derrick went for his daily boxing training. He liked using someone as a live punching bag, making sure every punch landed hard every time.

I simply put on my simple protective gear and stood in the boxing ring.

Powerful punches whistled through the air and landed on my cheeks, ribs, and abdomen.

I gritted my teeth, silently enduring the blows. I got up every time I was knocked down and quickly reassumed a defensive stance. Sweat mingled with blood as it streamed down my face, blurring my vision completely.

Chelsea sat in the audience's seat, elegantly sipping on her red wine and occasionally glancing up with a cold gaze.

It wasn't until after I was completely beaten and curled up in a corner, unable to get back on my feet anymore, that Derrick finally stopped. Panting, he looked at Chelsea with a smug expression on his face.

"How was my performance today, Chels?"

This time, however, Chelsea ignored him and walked to the edge of the boxing ring, watching me struggle to my feet.

"Are you an idiot, Jacob Archer? Don't you know how to stop the practice if it hurts?"