Chapter 3

Once outside, I was too scared to get a cab, so I ran through the back alley until I was completely exhausted.

I stopped at a payphone and dialed the number I had memorized last night. The phone rang for a long time before someone finally picked up.

"Hello, who is this?"

It was Dane's voice, calm and distant as usual.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

After a while, Dane said, "Hello? If you don't speak, I'm hanging up."

"Mr. Smith... It's me." My voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it.

The other end went silent. A full half minute passed before Dane spoke again, his voice barely shaking. "Ms. Jones? Is that you? Where are you now?"

My tears rolled down my cheeks. "Mr. Smith, I..."

I gave him the address, then crouched down on the ground and couldn't say another word.

Less than twenty minutes later, a convoy of black cars pulled up in front of me.

Dane got out of one of the cars and quickly walked toward me. When he saw the state I was in, his eyes reddened.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Jones. You must have gone through a lot."

I was taken back to the estate that had only ever existed in my "delusions".

My dad, Richard Jones, was waiting for me in the living room. When he saw me, he immediately got up. The pain and guilt in his eyes were overwhelming.

"You're home. That's… That's all that matters."

He wanted to hug me, but when his hands reached me, he pulled them back, as if he was afraid of hurting me. I knew he was blaming himself.

Three years ago, I had married Kyle and moved out to start our own life despite his objections.

At first, we stayed in touch frequently.

Later, Kyle said my condition was worsening and that I needed some quiet rest. Then, he cut off all contact between me and my family.

Dad had sent people to look for me, but Kyle blocked them with one excuse after another. He said I didn't want to see anyone. He said I was receiving treatment and shouldn't be disturbed.

Dad thought I was having post-wedding blues and didn't want to put too much pressure on me, so he transferred funds to my account every month instead.

He thought that as long as I could live without worrying about money, I would get better eventually.

He never imagined his precious daughter had been treated like a psychiatric patient by his son-in-law and imprisoned for three whole years.

"Dad, I'm fine."

I tried to force out a smile.

The family doctor arrived quickly and gave me a full examination. The results showed that my body was extremely weak, and the long-term use of a powerful sedative had damaged my nervous system.

"High doses of this drug can cause hallucinations, paramnesia, and even permanent brain damage," he explained.

The doctor's words were particularly devastating to me.

So, I was never sick. I had been poisoned.

My dad's expression turned frighteningly dark as he slammed his fist onto the table.

"Kyle Weiss!"

He gritted his teeth and forced out each word.

"I'll make him wish he were dead!"

That night, I moved back into the room I had left three years ago. The pink bed with frills, the wall covered with stuffed animals, everything was the same as when I had left.

Yet it all felt unbearably unfamiliar.

After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, I looked at myself in the mirror. My complexion was pallid, my eyes were hollow, and I was so thin I was almost nothing but a walking sack of bones.

Was this still the same Aria Jones who used to be so prideful and radiant?

I didn't want to look at this face anymore.

The next day, I had Dane bring in the best stylist and nutritionist.

I had my dry hair cut and changed it into something neat and short. I started working out and focused on getting myself healthy again.

I wanted to take back the three years I had lost, piece by piece.

A week later, I stood in front of the mirror and could already see traces of my old self.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number.

I answered, and Kyle's anxious, furious voice came through.

"Aria, where the hell are you?!"