Chapter 2

Maeve pressed down on my head and forcibly stuffed me into a wooden crate.

I held my breath the moment darkness fell.

Four years ago, during my job, a family member played a cruel joke by nailing me inside a coffin together with a corpse. The coffin was narrow and dark. I spent three days facing a gradually decomposing corpse. I was not let out until I thought I was about to die.

Since then, I have suffered from claustrophobia.

“Let me out! I’m sorry. Please, I’m begging you. Help!”

I was so terrified that I became incoherent. My fingers frantically clawed at the cracks in the wood.

Only after all ten fingernails had broken off completely and my throat had gone so hoarse that I could no longer produce a full sound did someone finally open the crate. My face was covered in tears as I crawled and lunged forward to grab Maeve’s pant leg.

“Please don’t lock me in again. I would die in there—”

Maeve was about to reach out to help me, but she leaned away instead.

“Can you just stop already? Quit playing the victim. Every single client who hired you to carry corpses was personally picked by me. They were just trying to toughen you up. They were never actually going to make things truly hard on you.”

I took a moment to actually grasp what she was saying.

“You... are the one behind those incidents...?”

I recalled those desperate moments from the past.

“Get on your knees and kiss my shoes. Otherwise, you’re not getting paid!”

“Chug all ten bottles of booze. Then, I’ll think about tipping you.”

So Maeve was the one behind every horrible word they had said to me and behind every bottle they had smashed against my skull. Those were all her doing, too!

Maeve spoke as if it were only natural.

“What’s wrong with that? I just wanted you to learn how to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. Had I not put you through all that hardship, would you even have had the chance to come back home today? Also, Cameron is hosting a charity event tonight. You must come with us so that other people will believe that Cameron isn’t the son of a kidnapper.”

Laurel added in a generous tone, “Haven’t you always wanted a wedding? Once you help Cameron have a daughter, I’ll give you a grand one.”

This was the promise Laurel had made to me under the moonlight. It had become bait to trap me.

A countdown flashed before my eyes. [12 hours.]

I lowered my gaze and suppressed the surging hatred. When I looked up again, my earlier devastated expression was gone. “Fine. I’ll go.”