His Cruel Game, Her Perfect Escape

n Andr

to cross. I turned off my phone, disconnected from the world, and just existed in the silent, white apartment that f

Ball was mandatory. It was a command performance for Eleanor Bradle

ng," he'd said, his voice dripping with fake remorse. "There was a crisis with our servers in Tokyo. I had

ue. I just nodded, a silent dol

person I saw was Eleanor, the family matriarch, her posture as rigid as her diamond-encrusted tiara. And

er face vanished. "Jillian," she said, the name an indictment. "I'm surprised

ng forward with an uneasy smile.

napped, turning her back on me

t three months pouring my soul into her birthday gift. It was a painting, a delicate watercolor of the rose garden on the estate, a place she sup

announced to the assembled guests, "Jillian has been working tirelessly on a special

allowed the gift to be placed b

away th

oom g

't my p

a tiny, tattered wedding veil, holding a miniature, tarnished gave

w dare you?" she shrieked, her voice shaking with rage. "How

urning to ice water in my vei

you be so cruel?" Then she turned to Eleanor, her eyes wide with feigned sympathy. "Grandmother, please don't be upset

brought forward another wrap

on of a second as she looked at the watercolor of her beloved roses.

ed the gifts, turning my heartfelt offering into a declaration o

ointment, his silence a deafening roar of complicit

and walked away from the party, away from the wh

radley family's private security-blocked my path. The head butler, a man named

rmth. "Mrs. Bradley has ordered you removed from t

ode of punishment for those who brought shame upon the Bradley name.

voice trembling, searchin

his face conflicted. "Jill

pleaded. "Alex, you

g with cold, unforgiving eyes. He saw his inheritance

can't help you," he said,

t. The fin

escend. I straightened my should

o a small, stone building that looked like a forgotten chapel. It was the family's ance

uered bamboo. "For disrespecting the Matriarch

g crack. Pain, sharp and electric, shot through my b

wn tore. I could feel the warm stickiness of

my body. I wasn't in the cold stone roo

ty-tw

. The pain was

ty-on

. My back was a raw, screaming agony. The wo

pletely, one final, clear tho

t time they wil

ng heap, slumped onto the