Chapter 3

On the weekend, Victoria hosted a private dinner party. She invited several prominent figures from the classical music scene.

In front of everyone, she played the part of the doting, saintly wife. She placed my pills neatly next to my plate and smiled warmly at our guests.

"Julian's health is quite fragile these days. Thank you all for understanding."

The guests sighed in admiration. "Victoria is such a devoted woman. To stay with him through all this... she's a saint."

Victoria lowered her head, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

For a split second, she looked so sincere I almost believed she cared.

But the moment she turned her back to the guests, her mask fell.

Looking at me, she mouthed with utter, cold disgust:

"Are you done playing the victim yet?"

Her face still wore a polite, public smile, but her eyes were venomous.

I kept my head down. I swallowed my pills, one by one.

Each one felt like a jagged rock sliding down my throat.

After the guests left, Adrien went upstairs. I silently began clearing the messy table.

Victoria grew impatient with my slow pace. Suddenly, she gave me a violent shove.

"Get out of the way, you useless mute!"

I lost my balance. My hip slammed hard against the sharp corner of the mahogany dining table.

A sharp, blinding pain shot through my side. I let out a muffled groan.

She didn't even bother to look back. She just swept upstairs, treating me like an annoying piece of trash she had cleared from her path.

I held onto the table, slowly forcing myself up.

When I pulled up my shirt in the bathroom, I saw a massive, deep purple bruise forming on my hip. The skin was scraped and oozing blood.

With shaking hands, I took out my phone and took a clear photo.

When I came out, Adrien was coming downstairs to get a glass of water. Seeing me clutching my side, he hurried over with a look of mock concern.

But the second his hands touched me, his fingers dug brutally into the fresh bruise on my hip.

I nearly fell to my knees from the sheer agony.

He smiled warmly, typed a message on his phone, and flashed it in front of my eyes:

*Be careful, Julian. Don't go hurting yourself. You're already enough of a burden to Victoria.*

Looking at his innocent, smiling face, my stomach churned.

I had treated this boy like a brother. I had paid for his dreams.

And now, he amused himself by stepping on my wounds like I was an ant.

That night, I sent the photo of my bruised hip and the video of Victoria's abusive mouthing to Clara.

She replied almost instantly on WhatsApp:

*Keep collecting evidence. Until we are ready to strike, play the deaf man. The deafer, the better.*

I stared at the glowing screen, then switched off the lights.

In the dark, I lay awake, my teeth clenched in silence.