Chapter 8

I lay alone in a pool of my own blood. The agony from my hand was so intense I kept blacking out.

Just when I thought I might actually die there, the butler, taking pity on me, called a private doctor.

I was rushed to the hospital for surgery. When I woke up, the doctor told me, "The fractures are severe. You'll need to rest it completely. Otherwise, you might not be able to perform any strenuous activities with it again..."

I clenched my left fist. "I understand," I managed to say.

My plan had been to endure one more day, then leave this hellhole for good.

But Laura had other ideas. She posted on Instagram: "My Painful Childhood - The Truth About My Sister's Bullying."

I skimmed the post, every word a knife to the heart.

"My whole life, I've lived in fear. My sister Alessia was jealous of the attention I got from our father, so she would bully and threaten me when no one was around... And her mother, the so-called 'political heiress,' used her family's power to steal my mother's fiancé, forcing my kind mother to accept a lesser role. Now her daughter is doing the same, pushing me into fountains, throwing me down stairs..."

The post included a photo of Laura with a bandage on her head, tears streaming down her face. Anyone would think I was a monster.

I could have ignored all of it. But I could not, would not, let her slander my mother.

I scrolled to the comments. A tidal wave of hate washed over me.

"Why is this bitch still alive?"

"Like mother, like daughter. A family of homewreckers."

"How can the Schroder family accept a woman like this? It's a disgrace!"

"Doxx her! Make her pay!"

Soon, my private address was leaked. Even the location of my mother's grave was posted online.

My front gate was splashed with red paint, with words like "GET OUT OF CHICAGO" and "BITCH" scrawled across it.

The rage was a firestorm. I lost all reason.

Ignoring my newly operated-on hand, I got in my car and sped off to find Laura.

She was at a café, sitting with five or six reporters, dabbing her eyes as she recounted her "tragic story."

"I'm so scared, but I choose to forgive her... she's my sister, after all..."

I shoved the door open. The café went silent.

When Laura saw me, her face went white. "Alessia? What are you..."

I marched straight up to her. In front of everyone, I swung my left hand and slapped her, hard, across the face.

SMACK! The sound echoed through the room.

Laura clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. "You... you actually..."

"I'm telling you," I didn't hesitate, hitting her again. "If you ever insult my mother again, I will make you pay a thousand times over!"

The reporters scrambled, cameras flashing. This was the kind of drama they lived for.

"Everyone, do you see?" Laura immediately switched into victim mode. "This is who she really is! She'll hit me in front of all of you. Imagine what she does at home..."

I was about to tear into her when I heard a familiar, deep voice from behind me.

"That's enough!"

Edmund strode into the café, his face a thundercloud. His eyes flickered between me and Laura, finally landing on her red, swollen cheek.

"Edmund..." Laura looked at him, tears welling up instantly. "I was just trying to clear the air, but sister, she..."

"Out!" Edmund grabbed my arm, his grip so tight it sent a shock of pain through me. "Get out with me, now!"

He dragged me out of the café, the sound of flashing cameras and Laura's sobs following us.

In the car, Edmund finally exploded.

"Are you out of your mind? Hitting her in front of reporters? Do you have any idea what kind of mess this will make for the family?"

"She insulted my mother!" I screamed back. "I won't let anyone drag my mother's name through the mud!"

"That's no excuse to resort to violence in public!" His eyes were full of disappointment. "As the future Mrs. Schroder, you are expected to have a certain amount of class and composure, not act like a common street thug!"

"Mrs. Schroder?" I laughed coldly. "It looks like you've already found your perfect candidate for that role. Why do you still need a 'street thug' like me?"

My words left him speechless. After a long moment, he said icily, "From now on, you're not going anywhere. You will stay in your room until the wedding day."

Back at the mansion, Edmund had his men guard my door, making me a prisoner in my own room. Before he closed the door, he looked at my cold, defiant face, and his tone softened slightly.

"I'll take care of the press. You just focus on being my bride."