Chapter 3

With a heavy heart, I shredded my student's hard work into pieces and threw them at my dad’s feet.

"Are you satisfied now?"

My mom and I rushed Scout to the vet.

After some treatment, the bleeding finally stopped.

Though his life wasn't in danger, Scout lay at our feet, his ears drooping sadly.

Guide dogs are highly intelligent. They have dignity, and they feel emotional trauma too.

My mom sighed softly.

"Your dad is a good man. But whenever Scarlett is involved, he completely loses his mind."

From what I knew, Scarlett and my dad were childhood sweethearts.

But Scarlett’s father, greedy for money, forced her to marry a wealthy man's son.

Back then, my dad was dirt poor. Heartbroken, he left his hometown to build a life from scratch.

Now that he was a successful businessman and Scarlett was being abused by her alcoholic husband, Wyatt, my dad saw this as his golden opportunity to play the savior.

When we got back home, I found Violet sitting at my laptop.

She was downloading games while deleting my raw thesis files.

That was three months of hard work and experimental data. I hadn't even backed it up yet.

I snatched the laptop away, my voice rising in anger.

"That's my thesis data! Don't touch it!"

Violet whimpered like a victim. "I'm sorry... I've never had a computer at home. I was just curious. I didn't mean to..."

Hearing the noise, my dad walked into the study and saw Violet tearing up.

"Georgina, I was the one who let Violet use the computer."

"Violet's father treated her terribly growing up. Who do you think you are, flexing your attitude on her?"

Violet started crying even harder.

My dad’s anger flared. He snatched my laptop and threw it straight into the fish tank.

The screen went black instantly as water flooded the keyboard.

One hundred days of grueling, sleepless work—gone in a flash.

Even the three goldfish in the tank were struck by the heavy laptop and sank lifelessly to the bottom.

Those goldfish were my mom's prized possessions before she lost her sight.

For three years, my dad had meticulously cared for them, feeding them and changing their water right on schedule.

Now, he stared coldly at the dead fish, his tone filled with utter impatience.

"Your mother is blind, but are you blind too? Didn't you see how happy Violet was?"

I helped my mom back to her room, feeling strangely grateful she couldn't see the ugly, venomous sneer on my dad's face.

After pulling the ruined laptop out of the fish tank, I looked at him and asked, "Do you even remember why Mom went blind in the first place?"

Three years ago was the most critical year of Christian’s career.

On a night with torrential rain, my mom went out to deliver a crucial folder he had forgotten.

A truck carrying steel rebar skidded on the wet road and plowed into her while she was waiting at a red light.

The rebar pierced directly through her eyes.

When the doctor declared her permanently blind, my dad knelt by her hospital bed and wept all night.

He kept sobbing, "God, why couldn't it have been me? Betty, I'm so sorry..."

He promised her: "Betty, from now on, Georgina and I will be your eyes."

"As long as I have you and Georgina, I have everything I need."

Christian's face went pale. His eyes drifted to the dead goldfish.

He frowned and muttered, "I'll just buy some new ones."

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a sharp scream came from the guest room, followed by the rich aroma of chicken soup.

We ran in to find Scarlett sprawled on the floor by my mom's bed, hot soup spilled everywhere.

She clutched her leg, her voice dripping with artificial sincerity.

"Betty, if you didn't want the soup, I could have made you something else. But how could you push me like that..."

My dad rushed over, grabbing the medical kit to bandage Scarlett.

Her leg was slightly pink, but upon closer inspection, there wasn't a single blister.

Scout barked twice, trying to draw my dad's attention to my mom's foot.

He was pacing around anxiously, and his tail accidentally brushed against Scarlett.

She immediately shrank into my dad's arms, shrieking, "Christian, it's going to bite me!"

"Wyatt used to set his dogs on me like this... I'm terrified!"

My dad kicked Scout hard in the ribs.

The poor dog collapsed, struggling several times before he could stand back up.

I couldn't take it anymore. I violently yanked up my mom's pant leg.

"Scarlett, look at my mom's foot! It's covered in severe burns! Stop putting on a goddamn show!"

Scarlett froze, then began to sob dramatically in my dad's arms.

"Christian, I didn't mean to... I swear..."

My dad flew into a rage and slapped me hard across the face.

"Is this how I raised you? How dare you speak to Scarlett with such disrespect!"

My mom started crying in panic. Being blind, she was completely helpless.

She frantically reached out, grabbing my dad’s hand, taking all the blame:

"Christian, it was my fault! I accidentally spilled the soup! It's all on me!"

"Don't blame Georgina! Please don't hit her..."

When I was a kid, my mom fell off her bicycle while carrying me.

We both scraped our limbs—I hurt my knee, and she hurt her elbow.

Back then, my dad tenderly disinfected our wounds, looking a hundred times more pained than we were.

Now, feeling the burning sting on my cheek and the ringing in my ears, I finally saw reality for what it was.

I calmly looked at my mom and said:

"Mom, don't apologize."

"We don't need him. We can live perfectly fine on our own."

Suddenly, a strong burning smell filled the air, and the deafening screech of the building's fire alarm began to wail.

Someone screamed in the hallway: "Fire! Run!"