“Just wait, okay? I’ll drag her back and make her apologize on your birthday.”
Wendy’s eyes brimmed with tears, her face pale with fear, but she managed to offer him a trembling smile.
“You’re the best, Dad,” she whispered before planting a kiss on his cheek.
I shuddered at the sight, disgust curling in my stomach. If I had still been alive, I might have vomited right there.
It all made sense now. Wendy wasn’t satisfied with being his daughter–she wanted to be his
wife.
My parents married early, so my father was only in his early forties. Thanks to his wealth, maintaining a youthful appearance wasn’t difficult for him.
Wendy, on the other hand, came from poverty. Her parents were dead, and she’d been living with relatives before my parents took her in.
She was ambitious and a skilled actor. It hadn’t taken her long to win over both my father and my brother.
1/2
Chapter 8
+25 BONUS
How naive I’d been to mistake their affection for Wendy as familial love.
For a man as misogynistic as my father, there was no reason for him to treat an adopted daughter so well unless he had ulterior motives.
Ian, raised under my father’s influence, was no different.
Mom had done her best to change Ian’s mindset while she was alive. After her death, I tried to continue her efforts, but all I got in return was their distaste and resentment.
I remembered my father’s words clearly: “When will you learn to be more understanding, like your sister? Look at you, so arrogant just because you’re educated. It’s not your job to teach your brother. Spend that energy cleaning the house! Go help out in the kitchens!”
Ian had also said, “Men and women are different, Jennifer. Can’t you just be gentle, like Wendy? Stop trying to control me! You’re so annoying.”
At the time, I’d wondered if I’d been too assertive or too harsh with Ian. Now, it was clear- they just didn’t like me.
I thought back to how I had begged for their mercy when they locked me in the storage room. “I’m your daughter, Dad! I’m sorry! I’ll apologize! Please, don’t lock me in here!”
“Help me, Ian!”
Their cold, heartless glares haunted me, chilling me to the bone. Every word they had spoken pierced my already bleeding heart.
