Chapter 3

Seren's POV

"I swear, I just wanted to check on Eloise!"

My back pressed against the cold wall, the burning in my cheek spreading to my ear. My mother stood there, breathing heavily, staring at me with blood-red eyes.

"Did some piece of trash in town run their mouth, or are you scheming for my clinic again?" Rosalind lunged forward, her skeletal fingers digging into my jaw, her nails piercing my skin.

"No!" My eyes watered from the pain. "She's been locked in that room for a whole week—"

My mother narrowed her eyes, her voice as calm as a sharpened blade: "Seren, get those twisted thoughts out of your head. Or else, I will make you regret being born into this world."

After that, I still couldn't see Eloise.

But every morning, my mother ordered me to go to the best farmer's market in Grimwood to buy Argentine red shrimp, free-range beef liver, and blood-building herbs. Then she’d spend hours cooking alone, carrying those fragrant but sickeningly thick broths to Eloise’s room herself.

I served a stranger like a cheap maid, while the "affection" my mother poured over her reached terrifying extremes.

Until a woman's intrusion shattered this eerie peace.

Beatrix Thornhill, once Hollywood's hottest sex symbol. But right now, her eye sockets were sunken, her skin bearing the bizarre grooves of chronic alcoholism and endless anti-aging injections. Looking like a dying junkie, she clung to my mother's arm.

"Rosalind! Save me! The lead role in Spielberg's new film was supposed to be mine!" Her voice was as grating as nails on a chalkboard. "At the audition yesterday, the producer said I looked like a fifty-year-old whore. If I can't look the part in 48 hours, the role goes to my rival!"

My mother coldly pulled her arm away. "We are not taking clients right now. Please leave."

"Rosalind, I'm begging you!" Beatrix ripped off her diamond necklace and threw it into the mud. "I'll pay whatever you want!"

"No amount of money will work. Get out."

Rejected, Beatrix didn't leave. As I was preparing for chores in the yard, she suddenly grabbed me, her bony fingers digging into my shoulder, eyes burning with manic greed.

"You're Rosalind's daughter? You must know the treatment! Just make me young again, and this briefcase of cash is all yours!"

A case full of hundred-dollar bills snapped open before my eyes.

My heart skipped a beat. If I could control these people's aesthetic fates, not only could I break free from my mother's control, but I'd have more money than I could spend in a lifetime.

"I..."

"Seren!!"

My mother's roar exploded. She charged into the yard, glaring as if she wanted to butcher me alive: "You reckless little bitch! Go wash Eloise's clothes!"

The pure malice in her eyes made me stumble back. Biting my lip, I turned toward the backyard.

"Triple!" Beatrix shrieked desperately behind me. "I'll pay three times the price, Rosalind! This is my last chance!"

Silence hung in the air for a full thirty seconds.

Then, my mother's voice, cold and flat: "Go inside. Lie down."

Minutes later, a heavy dragging sound echoed in the hallway. I peeked out from the backyard—and felt my blood instantly freeze.

My mother was dragging Eloise down the stairs.

It was the first time I had seen her in days. The once glowing, healthy girl was now being dragged like a dead dog toward the clinic door.

In that moment, my jealousy morphed into raw terror.

Finding courage from nowhere, I rushed forward and grabbed my mother's wrist. "You can't take Eloise in there!"

My mother viciously slapped the back of my hand, her voice hoarse and cruel: "Get back to your chores! This is none of your business!"

"She's really going to die!" I screamed, staring at Eloise's rolled-back eyes.

Kicking me away, she dragged Eloise inside and slammed the door shut.

I collapsed on the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

And then, the scream erupted.

It didn't sound human. It was the howl of flesh being torn and a soul being shredded alive. It trembled with absolute despair, lingering for what felt like an eternity before abruptly cutting off at its highest, most hellish pitch.

It was Eloise.

For the first time, I disobeyed my mother's warning to "ask fewer questions." Leaning against the wall, I staggered step by step toward the heavy iron door.

Through a crack, I took just one look.

An invisible hand seized my throat. Cold sweat drenched my body instantly. The urge to vomit surged up; I had to clamp both hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

I finally understood why my mother kept those girls so well-fed.