Kelsey's POV

A month before the wedding, my mother asked me to pretend to be my younger sister, Belinda Ferguson, to lure out a stalker. She promised I’d be safe.

But she broke that promise.

When I was dragged into a nightmare by that man and begged Francis Tomlinson for help, he ignored my calls and moved into our new house with Belinda.

I came home bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t even glance at my injuries. Instead, he looked at me with nothing but disgust and instructed, “Belinda’s pregnant. She needs peace and quiet, so move out of the master bedroom. From now on, you’ll cook three meals a day at home. Here’s the menu. Whatever Belinda wants, you cook it. After all, cooking is probably the only thing you’re good at.”

I froze, my mind going completely blank. “What… did you just say?”

Francis frowned, clearly annoyed. “You’re just an adopted daughter. And you can’t even have children. Belinda’s safety matters more. So yeah, sacrifice a little. It’s not like pretending to seduce a stalker would get you pregnant anyway.”

He didn’t notice how pale I’d gone nor the medical documents lying on the table, proving the "infertility" was a misdiagnosis, and the other confirming a successful operation to fix it.

Completely crushed, I called my father. “I’ve lost, Dad. I’ll marry that comatose rich man. We’ll hold the wedding next month.”

His voice was raspy as he spoke coldly after a pause, “Glad you’ve come to your senses. Ross may be a vegetable, but your zodiac signs are perfectly compatible. Luck might strike you two, and your wedding would wake him up.”

Tears slid down my cheeks, bitter and salty, slipping into the corners of my mouth.

My throat burned as I forced out the words, “Got it.”

Right after I hung up, Francis burst into the room, looking grim.

He tossed a set of keys onto the bed and said flatly, “Here’s the car key and tonight’s dinner list. Remember, Belinda doesn’t like cilantro, carrots, or bell peppers, and she’s allergic to yams.”

I clutched my throbbing arm, my forehead dripping with cold sweat. Staring at the keys on the bed, I felt a sting in my chest.

Three years of dating, and he couldn’t even remember what I liked to eat.

Listening to him list all of Belinda’s preferences like they were etched in stone, I couldn’t help but ask, “Do you even remember what I like?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that question. He paused, then frowned with irritation. “What kind of question is that? Don’t be petty. We’re talking about Belinda here. She’s carrying my child. Shouldn’t I be paying attention to her?”

Then, without missing a beat, he added with a scolding tone, “You were supposed to lure that psycho, and you still failed. What, did you want your sister to get hurt instead?”

I stared at him in disbelief. My heart was pounding from the anger boiling inside me.

“I called you for help. But where were you? None of you cared whatever happened to me. You said you’d protect me, what happened to that?”

At that, he was left speechless. He just stood there, scowling, before snapping again, “Well, you’re back safe, aren’t you? Why are you being so aggressive? Since you’re so useless, the least you can do is cook. Go buy the groceries already!”

Then came Belinda’s sugary voice behind him.

“Francis, don’t be so harsh. She’ll feel bad if I make her cook for me. Why don’t you come with me to the supermarket instead? It’ll be a nice little walk.”

She held her belly, which was barely showing, and walked over to him with a coy smile, brushing her chest against his arm like I wasn’t even there.

Francis glanced at me, then immediately softened his tone for her. “Alright. If that’s what you want, I’ll go with you.”

As soon as they walked out the door, my mother walked in, arms full of fruit and tonics.

She saw the first aid kit in my hands but didn’t even blink.

After setting down the supplies, she walked into the bedroom and slapped me hard across the face.

“Kelsey! Is it true that Belinda was stalked because of you? I told you to lure the stalker! How did you come back without a scratch?!”

Kelsey's POV

I held my stinging cheek where she slapped me. Blood was still seeping from the cut on my wrist, soaking into the sleeve of my black sweater. But neither Francis nor Mom noticed a thing.

Pain twisted in my chest as my eyes welled up with tears. They spilled down my face, one after another. I felt utterly hopeless.

“Mom,” I said, voice trembling. “You asked me to stand in for Belinda and lure out that stalker. I did what you said. You promised I’d be safe. But when I was being tortured and begging for help, where were you? Now that I’m luckily alive, you're accusing me of setting the whole thing up?”

Realizing that, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

But my mother’s expression darkened. Furious, she slapped me again, harder this time.

“You’re just an adopted daughter. Don’t even think about fighting Belinda for this family’s wealth. I know what you’re up to. Don’t think I can’t see that you were behind that stalker!”

As her third slap came flying, I caught her wrist mid-air and yanked it away with force.

What I didn’t expect was for her to stumble on her heels and fall straight into the doorway.

Right then, Francis and Belinda walked in and saw everything.

“Mom!” Belinda shrieked.

Francis, on the other hand, glared at me and snapped, “Kelsey! What the hell are you doing?!”

Then they rushed to her side and helped her up, settling her onto the couch.

The next moment, Belinda stormed over and slapped me hard across the face.

“We took you in when you had no one and made you part of our family, and this is how you repay us? You’re nothing but a thankless snake.”

“How could you?” Francis added, voice quivering with righteous anger. “She’s your mother! So what if she didn’t give birth to you? She raised you for years! How could you hurt her like that? I’m so disappointed in you.”

Both of them glared at me, convinced I’d pushed Mom on purpose.

I clenched my fists so tightly that blood started pooling in my palms, but the pain in my heart hurt far more.

“I didn’t push her. I just knocked her arm away. I didn’t know she’d fall,” I explained.

Mom moaned from the couch. She could hear the two berating me, yet she didn’t say a word to defend me.

Having no one on my back, I stood there crying, trying to explain myself over and over again.

Finally, maybe just tired of the noise, she spoke. “Enough. I’m fine. Don’t starve Belinda or the baby. Go cook dinner.”

Without a word, Francis pulled me by the arm and dragged me into the kitchen. His eyes held no trace of the warmth he once had for me, just coldness and annoyance.

He leaned in close and muttered sharply, “Kelsey, I don’t want anything happening to this baby. Do you understand?”

Without a word, I blinked back tears and cooked a full dinner for them.

But just as I was about to take off my apron and sit down, Francis stopped me.

“Stay standing and help serve Belinda. She’s pregnant. She can’t reach for things easily. Help her get the food.”

Hearing the latter's words, my mother shot me a smug look and chimed in with a satisfied smile, “Francis’s right. You’re the older sister. You should take care of your little sister, especially now that she’s expecting a baby. Do your part.”

I held back the anger bubbling in my chest, my face stiff as I stood behind Belinda, silently watching.

The bitterness in my nose stung. I watched Francis gently serve food onto her plate, and my heart sank.

I remembered when he used to cook just for me and how he said my hands were too delicate for anything other than painting.

But now, he was forcing me to cook for someone else, like I was a maid. He had forgotten everything he once promised me.

Then came a soft clatter.

Belinda had dropped her chopsticks.

She looked at me with an innocent expression and said sweetly, “Oops. Sorry, Kelsey. I didn’t hold them properly. Could you pick them up for me?”

Having no intention of doing what she asked, I didn’t move. I looked at the chopsticks on the floor first, then said flatly, “I’ll get you a new pair.”

But she pouted and tilted her head.

“Just pick them up and rinse them. What’s the big deal? Don’t tell me you don’t want to help me.”

I hesitated for a moment, then finally crouched down to grab them.

But before I could reach them, she deliberately stepped on my hand and pressed down hard.

I hissed in pain as the wound on my wrist tore open again, blood gushing out, warm and immediate.

Kelsey's POV

Cold sweat broke out across my body from the pain. I tried to pull my hand away, but Belinda didn’t budge. In fact, she pressed down even harder.

Unable to take it anymore, I shoved her just to free my hand. But she stumbled backward and fell to the floor, clutching her belly and crying out in pain.

Seeing that, Francis rushed over and immediately helped her up, his face full of panic.

“Belinda! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Before he could accuse me, I immediately lifted my injured hand and explained, “Look! She stepped on my hand! That’s why I pushed her!”

“So she accidentally stepped on your hand. That gives you the right to push her like that? You know she’s pregnant!” he roared, not caring about the truth, as all he could see was Belinda clinging to his arm like a frightened child.

Then my mother slammed her hand on the table and glared at me.

“Filth like you will never change. If I’d known this is how you’d turn out, I never would’ve adopted you. A woman who abandons a child at an orphanage is trash, and trash like that only gives birth to more trash.”

Her sharp words and Francis's indifferent attitude made my entire body tremble with rage and humiliation.

I clenched my fists under the table, and the years of pent-up pain and frustration exploded all at once.

“I told you, she stepped on my hand first! You keep calling me petty, but look at yourselves. You’ve never treated me fairly!”

Tears streamed down my face as I shouted, my voice cracking with emotion.

“My whole life, I was just Belinda’s accessory. When she hit me, insulted me, I wasn’t even allowed to fight back. When I did better in school, you forced me to teach her until she surpassed me. Did you ever treat me like your daughter?”

With a face twisted with rage, she snapped, “Ungrateful brat! Letting you grow up in this house was a mercy! You were unwanted in the first place. You have no right to compare yourself to my daughter!”

I staggered back, clutching my arm. Just as I tried to speak again, Belinda stepped up and slapped me hard across the face.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to my mom. If being in my family is such torture for you, then leave.”

Francis quickly pulled her into his arms, gently soothing her. “Belinda, don’t get worked up. She’s clearly lost her mind. Just ignore her. She’s not worth it. Let’s finish lunch with your mom, alright?”

Then he turned back to me, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the bedroom.

Once the door shut behind us, his gentle act vanished.

“I told you to take care of Belinda. Why can’t you just stay out of trouble?”

He crouched slightly to look at me, his tone cold and accusing. “You’re hurt and didn’t say a word. What’s the plan here? Trying to guilt-trip me?”

I turned my body to hide my injured arm, my heart sinking even deeper.

Now he noticed the wound?

I couldn’t help but let out a dry, bitter laugh.

“Let me bandage it,” he offered flatly.

“Don’t bother,” I coldly refused.

His brows creased with irritation. He clearly didn’t like being rejected.

“Fine. Then just stay in the room. Wait until Belinda and your mom finish eating. Then you can go get something from the kitchen.”

When the door closed behind him, I collapsed onto the bed, completely drained.

The pain in my arm made me tremble.

If he were his old self, he would’ve rushed me to the hospital at the first sign of a scraped knee, even in the middle of a thunderstorm.

But now, even with a deep wound, all I got was a cold, distant offer just for the sake of appearances.

All his tenderness was saved for Belinda.

The next day, the injury started to swell and throb. I was worried about infection, so I went to the hospital.

While waiting to be treated, I heard two women whispering behind me.

“Isn’t that the girl from the photos? Her personal life is a mess. She might be here to get tested for HIV.”

“I think so, too. With those kinds of pictures online, what do you expect?”

Overhearing their conversation, I didn’t know for sure if they were talking about me.

After I finished getting the wound cleaned and bandaged, my phone rang.

It was my best friend.

“Kelsey, you need to check our college group chat and your work group, too. Someone just posted a ton of... personal photos of you.”