Chapter 2

After administering all necessary vaccinations, the vet helped secure the bird inside a sturdy canvas sack. I casually instructed my bodyguard to toss her straight into the trunk of my car.

My mother’s heart broke instantly. "Careful! That's a rare peacock! What if you hurt her?!"

"Mom, it's just a dumb feathered beast."

"How could you speak like that?! She's my—"

"She’s an abandoned prop from a movie set!" I cut her off sharply. "No one else wanted her! I took her in out of charity, and she dares to attack me?"

"The young lady is right, ma'am," Dr. Evans added from behind the counter. "Some animals need firm boundaries. Spoil them, and they become dangerous."

My mother's expression turned as dark as thunder, while I gave the vet a discreet mental thumbs-up.

"Exactly. Dr. Evans is a true professional!"

The second we stepped out of the clinic, my mother began grumbling bitterly, "What kind of quack is he? This creature has a divine soul, not just some dumb beast!"

"Sure, Mom. A divine soul," I said, playing along smoothly. "I have a major photoshoot tomorrow. I'll bring her along as a live prop to boost our public image."

"Wonderful! That's wonderful!"

My mother beamed, overjoyed. The closer I appeared to get to that white peacock, the more thrilled she became.

I remembered how, in my past life, after Gemma stole my body, she stepped into my shoes and married Julian Hayes, heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire.

Right before the wedding, my mother had secretly consulted that occult sorcerer again. He claimed all my luck and destiny had been successfully transferred to Gemma, and now that Gemma was marrying up, she needed to siphon the Hayes family's immense wealth luck. The sorcerer gave her an enchanted ring to wear at all times.

This time, I was going to see how she planned to siphon anything from six feet under!

Early the next morning, I drove Gemma to the shooting location.

She was completely lethargic, drooping in her seat without an ounce of energy.

I had already spoken to the vet yesterday. Beyond the tranquilizer, I had secretly laced her water with a mild sedative. I made sure she would stay half-dead for the entire day.

I slammed on the gas, heading straight toward our destination.

Halfway there, Gemma seemed to regain a sliver of consciousness. Glaring at me with utter contempt, she let out a harsh hiss and viciously slashed her talons across the luxury leather seats of my Porsche!

Without missing a beat, I backhanded her across the face!

*SLAP!*

Her neck wobbled from the impact, her beady eyes wide with absolute shock.

In my past life, whenever she acted out, my parents would jump down my throat before I could even touch a single feather.

*'Scarlett! She's just a dumb animal, she doesn't know any better! Why are you so cold and heartless?!'*

*'Can't you even tolerate an innocent bird? How did our family raise such a cruel, ruthless monster?!'*

Their relentless gaslighting used to leave me questioning my own sanity.

I had genuinely tried so hard. I took her on walks, gave her warm baths, and bought her treats. Yet the moment no one was looking, she would claw my skin or bite my fingers to the bone.

Yet around my parents, she played the sweetest, most obedient angel.

It took dying to realize that she was Gemma all along. My mother had raised her for over twenty years; of course they had an unbreakable bond. Unlike me—the lost biological daughter who had only returned three years ago.

To them, I was merely a convenient sacrifice waiting to be slaughtered.

Now? To hell with playing nice. If she stepped out of line, I’d beat her senseless!

Gemma shrieked, lunging forward to gouge my eyes out. I seized her throat, slammed her down against the passenger seat, and whipped out a heavy roll of duct tape, wrapping her wings and legs until she was wound up like a mummy.

She couldn't move an inch—I even taped her vicious beak completely shut!

When I pulled up to the secluded farmhouse on the outskirts of town, the door swung open. A rugged poultry butcher dragged her out by the tape and tossed her roughly onto the dirt ground!

Dazed and bruised from the fall, Gemma's eyes burned with demonic hatred.

A bird showing pure, human malice? How pathetic. I casually nudged her with the tip of my designer stiletto.

"This vicious thing loves biting people. Butcher it and make it into a rich stew," I ordered coldly.

"And find me another white peacock that looks identical to this one."

"You got it, Miss Vance! We have plenty of exotic birds on this reserve!"

The butcher scooped Gemma up by her bound feet and chucked her into a plastic crate. Minutes later, he returned from the neighboring aviary with an identical white peacock—except this one was calm and naturally sweet-tempered.

Gemma thrashed violently on the dirt floor, letting out muffled, frantic squeaks through the heavy tape. Though she couldn't speak human words, the sheer terror paralyzing her eyes was unmistakable.

I leaned down, curling my lips into a predatory smile. "Vicious little bitch. You wanted to bite me? Welcome to your slaughterhouse."