Chapter 4

Liora Devereux POV

I watched as my father slammed his hand on the table. I flinched and looked up at him.

“What is this? First, you didn't come home to do your chores. Second, you tried to steal your sister's boyfriend?” my father said angrily.

“He was my boyfriend before she stole him!” I said, finally snapping because of his unfairness. He is my father, but he never treated me like his daughter, only when he needed my consent to sell my mother's painting…

“How dare you?!” He slapped me across my face. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Father… you don't need to blame Sister. She is an adult, and if I were in her shoes, I would surely feel the same. But, Sister, Victor and I are in love. I hope you can give us your blessings and accept us?” Camille said softly as tears welled up in her eyes.

Father scoffed. “You wouldn't talk to Victor again. He is Camille's boyfriend. I don't want to hear you cry about it,” my father said coldly.

My stepmother walked to her daughter and pulled Camille into her arms, not before giving me a deadly look.

I could only cry silently.

“Go clean the kitchen, and after that, paint Camille her next work. She needs to show them off on the night of the exhibition gala… and we are selling Rarity in Ruin. You would be coming along… I don't know why we need you anyway,” my stepmother said.

I looked up in shock. “No! Father, you promised that you won't sell that painting. It is the only one that makes me feel closer to Mum. Please…” I begged.

I reached forward to hold my father, but I got pushed away.

I fell, hitting my head on the table.

In the room, my father was kicked in the stomach.

“Don't you dare touch me! You already signed the documents. I can sell them… we just needed you to be there,” my father spat and walked away.

My eyes grew blurry. I could only watch him walk away, leaving me on the ground. My stepsister followed him, and my stepmother, Matilda, stepped into my view, holding my jaw.

“If only I could get rid of you easily, but count your days, Liora. You will end up like your mother too,” she said as she smiled.

I whimpered.

What is she talking about?

She laughed.

“He…lp.”

But all I got was another kick in the stomach. My head hit the table legs. I eventually passed out.

I opened my eyes only to find myself in the dark room. I quickly shrieked to the end of the room in fear.

They usually lock me here so I can beg to be brought out, which only leads to them taking more of my things that my mother had left for me.

I cried, knowing screaming and begging was no use. So I just waited until they remembered that I was here.

Then a knock came. The door slowly opened, making light come into the room. I flinched back.

“Ma'am and sir want you outside. They said you should prepare for the gala tonight,” the maid said. She looked at me as if I was dirt.

I squirmed off the ground, not that I wanted to do as they said, but I wanted to be put out of the room as soon as possible.

The maid walked out without waiting for my reply.

★★★

I stood in a room full of people. They gave me a knowing look as they shook their heads in shame and pity.

I watched as my father lied to the guests that I wanted to sell everything that reminded me of her… my mother. That I thought the painting deserved an owner who would cherish it.

Two guests passed by me, giving me that look. I knew what they were thinking. I was fat and didn't take after my mother. Instead, my stepsister had the talent…

I have always heard people say it would have been better if Camille was my mother's real daughter because of the painting.

If only they knew, but nobody had tried to hear me. No one, not even my mother's close friends.

I just stood there, watching as they sold my mother's last painting. The painting that meant the world to me.

Camille showed off my painting as hers. I stood there, blank-faced, nobody knowing she was just a fake.

I excused myself and walked to the balcony after the painting was bought. It was bought by the usual buyer, an unknown rich man.

“Why did you go after Camille?!”

I turned to the owner of the voice.

Victor.

“I didn't,” I said coldly, but I knew he was never going to believe me. Not with whatever Camille had told him. But I was still too weak to cry and explain myself.

I looked at Victor with teary eyes. He was the only man I had ever loved, but everyone kept choosing Camille, including Victor.

“Liar! You have always been jealous of Camille since you were kids,” Victor said angrily.

As if he was there during our childhood.

“If you don't believe me, let me be…” I said, trying to walk away.

Victor stopped me.

“You have to pay for what you did to her. Since you hurt her hand, I should do the same to you,” he said, holding up a knife in the air with a devious look in his eyes…

I didn't know where the knife came from, but I remembered the bandage wrapped around Camille's right hand.

I tried to pull away. He forcefully put my hands on the rails and tried to stab me in my right hand.

“Don't you dare try to hurt her!” a cold, deep voice said. The voice sounded familiar… too familiar.

We both turned to the owner of the voice.

I blinked. My face turned red.

Damien Black!

How is he here?!