Chapter 4

Conor's eyes stung, but suddenly, he laughed.

The next second, breathing hard and trembling, he struggled to his feet.

Step by painful step, he made his way toward Damon. Then, as everyone watched in disbelief, he yanked Damon out of Kendra's arms and shoved him down the stairs.

Blood gushed from the gash in Damon's forehead, splattering across the steps. The sickening cracks of bones striking the stairs rang out. Anyone listening closely could have identified the joints breaking one by one.

"Ahhh!"

After Damon's bloodcurdling scream, Conor spoke with a terrifying calmness. His eyes were like blades coated in poison.

"Now that's what it looks like when I push someone down the stairs. At least there's some blood."

Kendra's eyes darkened until their depths were impossible to discern. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her temples throbbed.

"Conor, you may be my husband, but you hurt your own brother. This is a McCullough family matter. I can't keep indulging you. Whether you should be punished, and how, is up to your parents."

Her gaze shifted from Conor to Brett, and she raised her eyebrows slightly.

Brett immediately understood what she meant. He bowed and nodded obsequiously to Kendra. When he turned around, his eyes were filled with barely suppressed fury and an eagerness to prove himself.

"That's right! We absolutely cannot let this matter go! I must teach this ungrateful brat a proper lesson!"

He called for the bodyguards. "Bring me the cane! Give him fifty lashes!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Conor struggled against them, glaring at Brett with ferocious hatred.

But the bodyguards dragged him forcibly to the family chapel. Brett took the new cane and brought it down hard across Conor's back.

Smack!

Agonizing pain tore through Conor as his skin split open. His vision went black, and he bit down hard on his lower lip to keep himself from screaming.

One lash. Two. Three...

Conor wanted to run.

Brett made no move to stop him, merely letting out a cold, derisive snort. "If you dare walk out that door, I'll have your mother's grave dug up tomorrow and scatter her ashes! I'll make sure she knows that the reason she can't rest in peace is because of you, you ungrateful son!"

Conor stopped. His body went rigid.

He was shocked by Brett's madness and cruelty, yet at the same time, he found it entirely unsurprising. His father was exactly the kind of heartless, unscrupulous lunatic who would stoop to anything.

Conor felt as though his soul had been drained from his body. His face was deathly pale, but in the end, he turned around and knelt back in his original position.

Brett laughed with satisfaction. Desperate to make sure Kendra saw how well he was performing, he struck Conor with every ounce of strength he had, as if he wanted to strip the skin from his son's back.

Conor's entire body convulsed with pain.

By the time the fifty lashes were over, he looked as though he had been dragged out of a pool of blood. His body was covered in wounds and blood. Only his face remained deathly pale.

Having thoroughly vented his fury, Brett tossed the shattered cane aside and prepared to leave.

As Conor hovered on the edge of consciousness, he heard a familiar female voice.

"This family chapel is quite suitable. Making him kneel here and reflect on his actions for three days should be very effective. Mr. McCullough, don't you agree?"

Brett immediately agreed. "Yes, yes, absolutely. Have someone watch Conor and make sure he kneels here for all three days. No one is allowed to bring him food or water during that time!

"This time, we must make sure he learns his lesson."