When Alaric Gunn fell into a coma, I scavenged streets to pay his bills while our daughter Joy grew up on charity. Eight years later, he awoke remembering only Erin as his true love. He called Joy a stray to be abandoned, locking me in the basement for three days until she vanished—replaced by pregnant Erin in our home. "Your only job is to serve her," he said, as others urged patience for his recovery. Until I overheard his doctor expose his fabricated medical history. "A scavenger like you can't survive alone," Alaric sneered, unaware I'd sacrificed family and career for him. If his heart held no love, I'd vanish. The doctor's words sent an icy chill through my body, and I began to tremble uncontrollably. From outside the door, Alaric's impatient voice cut through the air. "Are you dead in there, Lara? Get out here!" I ignored the pity in the doctor's eyes, swallowed the acid burn in my throat, and hurried out. Erin was draped over Alaric's arm. "Alaric, darling," she cooed, "I haven't had my transfusion today." Ever since she'd announced her pregnancy, serving as her personal blood bank had become my duty. I looked down, and a tear splashed onto the cold linoleum floor. "After this one," I whispered, "I'm leaving." Surprise flickered in Alaric's eyes. He glanced at my arm, a canvas of purple and blue bruises dotted with needle marks, and hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Then get out now," he snarled. "I've had enough of a filthy scavenger living in my house. The sour stench clinging to you makes Erin's morning sickness worse!" As I turned to leave, Erin's voice stopped me. "You can go. But the gold bracelet stays." It was the bracelet Alaric had given me on our wedding day. Through all the years of hunger and despair, it was the one thing I could never bring myself to sell. But I knew better than to defy her. The last time I’d failed to peel her shrimp at a restaurant, Alaric had knocked a tooth out of my mouth. I slipped the bracelet off and held it out to her. "Consider it a gift for the baby." A soft, cruel laugh came from beside me. "It's just plated," Alaric murmured. "Worthless." My hand trembled, and the bracelet clattered to the floor. So even the one memory that had sustained me, the one symbol of a love I thought was real, had been a lie. "Your memory..." I stammered. "It's back?" "What if it is?" he said, his arrogance staggering. "Erin is pregnant. I have a responsibility to her." If it weren't for the hope of finding my daughter, I never would have bowed to them for a second longer. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and walked away. But just as I reached the hospital exit, two of his bodyguards grabbed me and dragged me back. When Alaric fell into his "coma," his assets were frozen. I was left with a mountain of medical debt. I had survived, with my daughter, by begging on the streets. But the moment he "woke up," he was buying Erin the finest delicacies, surrounding her with guards to protect the precious life in her womb. They threw me back into the room. Alaric looked down at me, his eyes cold and imperious. "You dare to leave before giving your blood?!" The needle pierced my bruised skin again. "Please," I begged, "after this is done... just tell me where Joy is. Please?" For a moment, a flicker of something—pity? regret?—crossed his face. He reached out as if to steady my swaying body. But then Erin, her eyes flashing with jealousy, let out a soft cry. "Alaric, I don't feel well." He immediately spun to catch her, his concern for her absolute. He barked at the nurse, "What are you waiting for? Take more! As much as she needs! She won't die from it!" As my consciousness faded, the last thing I heard was his chilling, detached voice. "Lock her in the basement. Let's see her run now." I woke in the damp, putrid air of the basement, the blood on my clothes dried and stiff. A maid stood over me with a bowl of congee. She tipped it, and the hot gruel poured over my head. "Who do you think you are?" she sneered. "Expecting me to feed you." My hands were bound tightly. The searing heat on my scalp made me scream. A moment later, I heard the maid's frantic, lying explanation to someone at the door. "She wouldn't eat! She knocked it out of my hands!" I forced my swollen eyelids open. Alaric knelt beside me, his fingers digging into my chin, forcing my head up. His eyes were like chips of ice. "Playing the victim for me, Lara? Do you think I feel sorry for you?" "I don't need your pity," I rasped. "But our daughter... you have to care about her. Please, just give her back to me." "Oh, she's fine," he said casually. "You just serve Erin well, and you'll get her back. Don't forget, this is what you both owe her." In the shadows, a single tear of agony slid down my cheek. So that's it. You've always believed it was my fault Erin left all those years ago. No wonder you faked a coma for eight years, just waiting for her to come back. No wonder you care so little for our child. No wonder you look at me as if you want to flay me alive. Alaric was throwing a birthday party for Erin, and he let me out of the basement to "help." When I refused, his voice turned to steel. "Do you think you get to live here for free? You will be at this party. And if you do anything to upset Erin, I'll make you regret it." He added, as a final hook, "Behave yourself, and I might grant you one request." After he had ground me into the dust, what could I possibly dare to ask for? The entire Gunn mansion buzzed with excitement for Erin's birthday. She wore a gown that glittered with a thousand tiny diamonds, while my own t-shirt was faded and covered in patches. She found me in a corner and dug her sharp, manicured nails into the raw, scalded skin on my arm. I met her gaze, my voice flat. "Don't get your hands dirty, Miss Vance." For a moment, she was speechless. Then she leaned in close, a wicked smile playing on her lips. Her voice was a demonic whisper. "Do you know where your daughter is?" "I have her locked up. A few old men come to... play with her every day." The words exploded in my head. I felt a cord inside me snap. Harm me, break me, but you do not touch my daughter. "You bitch! I'll kill you!" My hands closed around her throat, but a violent force threw me backward. Alaric was there, cradling a gasping Erin. I hit the floor hard, coughing up a mouthful of blood. "You're not human, Alaric!" I screamed, the blood staining my lips. "You'd let this monster hurt your own child!" His face was thunderous. "I don't know what you're talking about! Stop making a scene!" The guests were arriving, their numbers swelling. Their whispers were like hammer blows, crushing the last of my dignity. "Look at that trash-picker. How dare she even compare herself to a renowned jewelry designer like Miss Vance?" "She really thought having a daughter would tie her to the Gunn family. Only Miss Vance's child will ever matter to him." "Shameless. Look at her, crawling on the floor like a dog." "I can smell the rot on her from here." I finally found the strength to push myself up, ready to walk away from it all. But Alaric's voice, cold and absolute, commanded me. "Crawl over here and apologize to Erin. You scared her and the baby." One step. Two. I didn't look back. But then his voice turned cruel, twisting the knife. "Don't you want to see your daughter again?" He knew my weakness, and he used it to gut me. I turned back, defeated. As I finished kowtowing to Erin, my head touching the floor three times, I looked up and my eyes met a pair in the crowd—brimming with tears. After the party, my phone buzzed with a message I hadn't expected. [Sis, let me come get you. Please? He's no good for you.] My fingers trembled as I typed a single word: [Okay.] Suddenly, Alaric's roar echoed behind me. "Lara! Are you good for anything besides lazing around?!" I shoved the phone into my pocket and scrambled to clean the blood I'd coughed up from the marble floor. My tears fell, smearing the crimson stain. I looked up and saw a complex expression on Alaric's face. "Enough with the crying," he muttered, sounding almost weary. "It's bad luck." He held out his phone. "Here. See for yourself." A video call. I lunged for the phone, my heart aching more than any needle ever could. It was Joy. Her face was pale and thin. She saw me, but she didn't dare call out "Mama." Before I could even speak, the call ended. Alaric crossed his arms, a cold smile on his face. "I told you she was fine. You want to see her? Then you'll be obedient." "Have you seen her?" I choked out. "In person? Do you have any idea what Erin is doing to her? Why won't you let me see my own daughter?!" "Erin is taking perfectly good care of her," he said, his patience wearing thin. "Stop making trouble. When the time is right, I'll take you to her." I looked up at him, my eyes as dead as a stagnant pool. "I see." There was no "right time." I couldn't wait any longer. Alaric opened his mouth to say more, but a call from Erin summoned him upstairs. "Bring up a basin of hot water," he called over his shoulder as he left. When I entered their room with the water, he was massaging Erin's swollen calves, a gentle smile on his face. "Is the little one giving you trouble again, my love? Just this one, and then no more, okay? You've been through so much." A bitter smile twisted my own lips. When I was pregnant with Joy, Alaric was already in his "coma." He had ignored my entire pregnancy, my struggle to survive while carrying his child, all while he peacefully slept, waiting for his golden girl to return. I knelt and expertly began to soak Erin's feet, my heart a placid lake of indifference. Alaric paused. "Let me do that." "No need..." I said tonelessly. Before I could finish, the basin was kicked over. Erin shrieked. "Are you trying to scald me?!" The water was only warm, but it soaked me to the bone, leaving me dripping and humiliated. Alaric waved a hand in disgust. "Get out and change. You can't even do one simple thing right. What use are you? If anything happens to Erin, I'll hold you responsible!" As I walked downstairs, a new message from him popped up. [I'll take you to see Joy tomorrow.] But I didn't believe him anymore.
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