Chapter 5
Chapter 5
I stood up. Perhaps the cancer cells spreading were merciful–I didn’t feel many abnormalities yet.
Walking step by step toward the exit, I encountered Blake hurrying down the empty corridor.
Seeing me, his entire demeanor cooled.
“Where do you think you’re going? After hurting Violet so badly, don’t you owe her an explanation?”
Through my tangled thoughts, 1 still couldn’t find a reason to explain anything to Violet.
I asked again:
“Why?”
Blake frowned, looking me up and down.
“If it weren’t for you, would Violet have anxiety? She did nothing wrong, yet she has to bear all the consequences. And right when she’s at her breaking point, you made her even more desperate with this fake engagement.”
“You think I agreed to this marriage just for the business partnership between our families?”
“Violet begged me in tears, saying she’d enjoyed the Fosters‘ love and shouldn’t cause them any more trouble, begging me to save face for her.”
“She’s no longer a Foster daughter, yet she still puts the family first.”
“But you? Disregarding the Fosters‘ reputation, walking out of the wedding in front of everyone–how do you think that makes Violet look? How do you
think others see it?”
Having finished his angry tirade, he roughly grabbed my arm.
“Go apologize to Violet! Your selfishness and unreasonable behavior have caused her so much psychological stress.”
“You owe her this!”
His forceful pull sent me sprawling to the floor. Blake looked even more displeased.
“Olivia Foster! Stop stalling!”
I barely managed to get up when the elevator doors opened and Violet came running out.
Her eyes were swollen from crying as she rushed toward us.
“Blake… Olivia… you two…”
Blake sensed something and quickly released my hand.
But Violet’s emotions immediately collapsed.
“Don’t change your behavior for my sake. I’m already so sorry about the wedding…”
“I know I have no right to talk about the past anymore, I just feel so terrible.”
With tears in her eyes, she came over and grabbed my hand.
“Olivia, I only ask that after I’m gone, please take good care of Blake. He’s always protected me, cleaned up my messes. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to repay him, so I can only trouble you…”
Behind her stood my mother, face grief–stricken, and my father, sighing heavily.
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“Violet, Mom will never abandon you.”
My mother’s voice choked up. Then she turned to look at me.
“Olivia, twenty years of mother daughter bonds can’t be severed so easily. Violet is already suffering–do you really want to force us to choose between you?”
But Mom, I never asked you to choose, right?
I was about to defend myself when Violet’s sobs interrupted me.
“Mom… I mean, Mrs. Foster, don’t pressure Olivia. My existence is redundant anyway. I stole her life–I should repay her.”
“But I can’t turn back time, so I can only offer my life.”
With that, she made a desperate dash toward the window. Dad’s strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest.
“Violet, no matter what anyone says, you’ll always be my most beloved daughter.”
The next moment, a resounding slap landed on my face.
A burning sensation, first numbness, then searing pain.
Blake’s icy voice rang out:
“Olivia Foster, seeing us all in turmoil because of you–are you satisfied now?”
Warm liquid flowed from my nose.
I touched it–wetness.
The red shadow flashed in my mind, a recurring nightmare.
I absolutely hated being slapped.
As a child, my adoptive mother Margaret loved slapping me.
At the Foster house, in front of everyone, she would catch me off guard with a hard strike.
The reasons varied, mostly fabricated, usually when she was exhausted and irritable from work.
She especially liked to slap me in front of Violet and Blake.
My already fragile self–esteem crumbled under her repeated blows, becoming a joke.
But I distinctly remembered young Blake telling me when I was fighting back tears:
“Grow up quickly, escape, go somewhere she can’t control you.”
I couldn’t understand what kind of pressure the Sullivan heir faced from his family’s expectations.
Perhaps at some point, he found a moment of empathy with my misery.
Yet ironically, after my unexpected identity reversal, I accidentally became another source of his oppression.
Someone he had to marry despite his dislike, all because of family orders.
My face hurt terribly, a stinging pain spreading inch by inch, consuming my thoughts.
Everyone was watching me, but no one stood beside me.
It was a look of wariness.
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I lowered my head and slowly walked back.
I realized I never belonged here.
That luxurious, noble Foster Family–1 had always been an outsider.
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