Chapter 1

My mother was stunningly beautiful.

But during the years my father was abroad, she was long abused by another man.

On the day my father returned home, he accidentally discovered this.

I thought he would be shocked, enraged.

Instead, he simply closed the bedroom door quietly.

Coldly locking my mother's humiliation and tears behind that door.

Mother's body was discovered by the maid the next morning.

Sinking to the bottom of the crystal-clear swimming pool.

It took quite an effort to retrieve her, as a huge rock was tied to her body.

The corpse was laid out by the pool.

Her white dress was stained with blood, all crumpled.

Burns, whip marks, and rope burns covered her entire body.

The wounds were soggy, the flesh turned over and blurred, a horrifying sight.

I saw that terrifying scene from afar and turned to bury my face in my nanny Rose's embrace.

She gently patted my back: "Don't be afraid, Miss. That's your mother."

"That's not my mother!" I cried urgently.

"I don't want such a scary mother. You're my mother!"

Rose smiled gently: "Alright, alright, good girl, don't cry."

As she carried me away, she said:

"What a sin. With such a heavy stone tied to her body, she really didn't want to live anymore."

I looked over Rose's shoulder, staring fixedly at my motionless mother on the ground.

How could such a delicate and beautiful person turn into a pile of rotting flesh in the blink of an eye?

She had given me a sweet kiss just last night.

The soft lamplight outlined my mother's graceful silhouette as she leaned down and, for the first time ever, placed a goodnight kiss on my cheek.

It was the first time I saw a glimmer of light in her beautiful but vacant eyes.

It was also the first time I received a kiss from my mother.

She turned off the lamp and left, but I was too happy to fall asleep.

In the middle of the night, I vaguely heard a woman's muffled sobs from outside the door.

It sounded like Mother.

So I got out of bed barefoot, following the sound along the dark hallway towards my grandfather's bedroom.

To my surprise, my father, who had just returned earlier that day, was standing at the bedroom door.

"Robert..." Mother's trembling cry came from the crack in the door.

"Save me..."

In the darkness, Father's back was ramrod straight. I thought this was a sign of his anger about to explode.

But he just slowly raised his hand and gently locked the door.

...

That year, I was six years old.

The same age as when Grandfather George brought Mother and me home from the orphanage.

That year, I didn't understand what Grandfather and Father had done to Mother.

But I knew Mother was dead.

The only person in this world who loved me was gone.