Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Emily lunged at Lydia, driven by the same desperate instinct that had haunted her for two years. But Lydia jerked her arm up, sending the clothes flying into the air.
For Emily, time seemed to stretch. She watched as Vincent and Emma rushed to grab Lydia, as Lydia reeled back with deliberate carelessness. She seemed to see the Bennetts grabbing ropes, ready to drag her to the St. Gabriel Reform Academy again.
Emily stumbled backward without thinking, unaware of the clothing racks behind her.
A sharp crash echoed as the rack hit the floor. Emily lost her balance, and the metal frame collapsed around her, snagging her clothes and leaving her tangled and exposed.
Lydia had fallen too, but Vincent and Emma caught her before she hit the ground. Her hair was still neatly arranged, though her face twisted in pain. “Mom, Vincent, my foot,” she whispered.
Vincent knelt beside her, carefully lifting her ankle.
The polished shoe made her skin look even more delicate and flawless at first glance. But when his fingers grazed some spot, Lydia flinched with a sharp gasp.
Emma’s face twisted with worry and frustration. “Is it that serious? Vincent, we have to get Lydia to the hospital now.”
Without a word, Vincent nodded and gathered Lydia into his arms.
As he turned to leave, his gaze instinctively flicked toward Emily, who was still slumped against the shelves, her face ghostly pale. The frayed hem of her yellow dress had ridden up, exposing a strip of bare thigh.
When his eyes lingered there for half a second too long, Emily hastily pulled the fabric down, fixing her stare on the floorboards.
She hadn’t pushed Lydia now, just as she hadn’t two years ago, but no one had believed her. They’d shipped her off to St. Gabriel Reform Academy instead.
Vincent’s jaw tightened, a question forming on his lips until Lydia whimpered, clutching at his collar. “Vincent, it hurts.”
Instantly, his attention returned to Lydia. He murmured, his expression tightening with worry, “It’s all right. We’re getting you to the hospital.”
Cradling Lydia close, Vincent hurried out. Emma trailed behind, her face etched with panic. Neither spared a glance for Emily, who was still curled on the floor.
To Emily, their indifference came as a relief. The thought of being sent back to St. Gabriel Reform Academy made her blood run cold-she knew she wouldn’t survive there another day.
As the three of them departed, every customer and clerk in the boutique turned to stare at Emily. Yet not a single person stepped forward to assist.
The staff had taken their cue from Vincent and Lydia’s cold dismissal of Emily, their indifference now carefully replicated.
The manager stalked over, her expression dark. “These are limited-edition designer pieces,” she said coldly. “Do you understand what that means? Could you possibly cover the damages?”
Emily’s face burned. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, struggling to stand while desperately clutching the torn fabric to her thigh. But the tear ran from hip to hem-no matter how she tried to hold it closed, patches of bare skin still showed through.
After a moment’s hesitation, Emily removed her hoodie and tied it around her waist to cover her exposed skin.
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Chapter 22
As she did, the shop’s murmurs died abruptly, replaced by shocked whispers.
Her sleeveless dress now revealed far more skin than it concealed. Where once there had been a porcelain-perfect complexion from eighteen years of careful upbringing, now only angry scars and burn marks remained.
The crowd’s stunned reactions told her everything. Their pity and morbid curiosity needed no words.
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