Chapter 3

I shoved Frank away and glared at him. "You fucking disgust me. I will never, ever marry you."

Once again, we parted on angry terms. Thankfully, when I got home, Al checked in on me, and we talked for a while. I was about to put my phone down when a video popped up on my social media feed.

Several men were going down on a single woman, and she looked like she was enjoying it.

New comments appeared with every refresh.

[Hoe-ly shit. Girl looked at reverse harem media and thought, why not all of them? And still it's not enough.]

[I know her. She's a painter! I bought one of her pieces last time.]

[Being an artist really is the job you take when you want to have lots of sex!]

I gripped my phone so tightly that my fingers turned white. That was a video of me being humiliated and tormented back then. They had drugged me before they did this to me!

I drew a deep breath to steady myself, then contacted someone I knew to have the video removed from the internet.

I had barely finished dealing with it when one of my maids rushed toward me in a panic, tears brimming in her eyes. "M-Miss Capra! Your artwork... Your studio! Mr. Leclerc... He... He brought his men and..."

My heart lurched.

I bolted out of my room and sprinted toward the studio as fast as my legs could carry me. My easels lay toppled in every direction, and buckets of paint had been dumped over the pieces I had spent countless days and nights creating.

Frank looked at Virginia with a gentle smile. "Do you feel a little better now? The baby's calmed down, right?"

"What the fuck, Frank?!" I bellowed.

His eyes hardened as they settled on me. "You almost caused a miscarriage. These paintings are just a small price to pay for Vivi to get even. I actually think it's a pretty light punishment."

Virginia smiled at me before dumping a bucket of paint over my largest landscape painting.

"No!" I shrieked as I lunged forward.

I was too late.

Frank intercepted me and wrapped his arms around me.

"C'mon, it's just a picture of some trees," he said casually.

For a moment, my heart stopped.

That painting he dismissed so casually was the only thing my mother had left behind.

Back then, he had shielded it with his own body and refused to let go, even when my stepmother ordered her lackeys to beat him.

He had told me it was worth protecting with everything we had because it was the only physical connection I had left to my mother. The back of the canvas had been stained with our blood as we defended it. It was a piece we had nearly traded our lives to protect.

Nothing could have made it clearer than this.

Those days, and the things that mattered to me, and therefore mattered to him, were gone. They had become nothing more than objects taking up space.

I shoved him away, snatched a wooden bat off the floor, and charged at Virginia.

Frank stepped in front of her and pulled her into his arms. The bat slammed into his back hard enough to make him yelp. The impact sent a jolt through my arm, leaving it numb.

I couldn't help noticing how he held Virginia the same way I had once held him to protect him.

He had been so small back then, with a strange allergy to girls. The other kids called him a freak and a weirdo, then bullied him relentlessly. One day, a group of girls cornered him and tormented him. He only got through it because I shielded him with my own body.

In return, he promised he would protect me for the rest of my life.

Yet reality mocked me with this twisted imitation.

It hurt so much.

Virginia let out a startled cry. "Why? Why are you doing this, Frankie?!"

He ignored her and slowly turned to me. His fingertips brushed my cheek as he murmured, "Do you feel better now? Please don't cry."

Only then did I realize tears were already streaming down my face.

My gaze fell on his red, swollen hand before I pointed at Virginia. "Did you know she posted that video of me being violated on the internet?"

Frank's face drained of color as he whipped around to look at her.

Virginia grimaced.

"W-What are you talking about? It wasn't me! Don't frame me!" she squeaked.

His expression softened.

"No. It can't be her. This has to be a misunderstanding." He looked back at me. "You really shouldn't blame her for everything, Freya."

"Are you blind?!" I shot back. "Look at her! She's doing a terrible job of hiding her guilt, and you still can't see it?!"