Chapter 3

I woke up from the searing pain. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was still in the basement.

"You're awake?"

Christina stood over me, holding an empty basin as she looked down at me.

"Just one basin of salt water and you're already awake? This feeble act of yours is too fake, Dylan. It's been three years, yet you still haven't learned to behave. How disappointing."

The pain left me gasping for air. My wounds were no longer just painful—they were turning white and showing early signs of infection.

Christina's gaze scanned over me, her brow deeply furrowed in disgust. "You think pretending to be on the verge of death will make me feel sorry for you?"

I struggled to look up at her—her expression cold and indifferent. Bitter and furious, I braced myself against the wall and slowly pushed myself to my feet.

She looked at me as if she'd seen something filthy.

"Put this on," she snapped, flinging a piece of clothing at me.

I recognized it as a housekeeper's uniform and looked up at her. Her eyes darted away, but Roland smiled and answered instead.

"My apologies, Dylan. I've already thrown out everything that belongs to you in this house. Chrissy said it was unlucky to have it lying around.

"We were planning to replace them once you got discharged, but… we haven't had time to do that yet. So, just make do with this for now. You don't mind, right?"

He picked up the uniform and dressed me in it, deliberately pressing his fingers into my wounds while he was at it.

Trembling violently from the pain, I abruptly raised my hand and dug my fingers into his shoulder.

"Of course… I don't mind."

Roland cried out in pain and shoved me away, clutching his shoulder as he stumbled backward.

Christina immediately steadied him. Seeing the deep nail marks carved into his flesh, her eyes reddened with distress.

"Dylan Nielson!"

Enraged, she picked up the leather whip, soaked it in more salt water, and rained blow after blow on me.

"Roland was being nice, helping you dress! How dare you hurt him!"

I staggered back from the whipping until I was backed into a corner with nowhere left to go. I stared at her in despair.

For the past three years, I had endured inhuman treatment in the psychiatric hospital. Six of my ribs had broken and healed repeatedly, now permanently set wrong. My left eye was blind, clouded a dull gray-white, rotting in the socket and giving off a constant stench.

But Christina had never shown a trace of concern. If anything, she instructed the staff to go harder on me.

I had merely pinched Roland, and she exploded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on—hissing and striking to kill.

The basement door hadn't been shut tight, so the commotion drew a large crowd of household staff. Dozens of heads crowded the doorway, watching me being whipped, yet no one dared intervene.

I laughed bitterly.

Christina froze, her voice cold and hard. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing because you're blind, mistaking trash for treasure. Do you think Roland returned to your side because he actually loves you? He only came back because you're a CEO now. Yet you treat a murderer as—"

A harsh slap cut me off. Christina's expression was as dark as a brewing storm.

"I won't allow you to insult Roland! He's not that kind of a person!"

I sneered. Not that kind of person?

Three years ago, Roland had been wearing clothes from the clearance rack. Now he was dressed head to toe in designer clothes, wearing a million-dollar watch on his wrist, and driving a car worth tens of millions of dollars.

Meanwhile, I—the former CEO of Ashmore Group—was now wearing a housekeeper's uniform.

I suddenly remembered the time I had risked my life to rescue Christina from a business rival, who had kidnapped her to threaten me into giving up land rights. Back then, I had seen Roland standing there next to that rival as a hired thug.

At the time, I had no idea he was the first love Christina couldn't forget.

Later, when Paige had her accident, and I saw him again, I never got the chance to reveal the truth before Christina shipped me off to the psychiatric hospital.

And now she had the audacity to claim that he was "not that kind of a person".

The household staff outside began whispering among themselves, talking about Paige's untimely death.

Roland panicked. His eyes reddened as he called for Christina, which made her heart ache unbearably.

"Your sister was the one who didn't watch where she was going and walked into traffic," she roared. "She deserved to die! You forced my hand, Dylan! Don't regret it!"

She dragged me upstairs and shoved open the room where Paige had once stayed before she died. Everything inside was exactly as it had been three years ago.