Irene’s POV

When I opened my eyes again, my whole body ached as if I'd been run over by a truck.

I had no memory of how I'd gotten back to my room last night, only remembering the moon swaying in the deep night, and the man saying again and again in my ear.

"Baby, you're so cute."

I cried and screamed and pushed against him, but I couldn't break free from his grasp.

Climbing out of bed with difficulty, I walked into the bathroom. Passing by the mirror, I still got a fright—bruises covered my entire body, and on my shoulder was a bite mark that had nearly broken skin.

"Bastard..." I cursed viciously.

"Irene~ are you up?" Gina's voice came from outside the door.

Startled, I quickly turned on the shower.

Gina entered the room and stood at the bathroom door. Hearing me showering, she said with a smile, "Peter says we should at least have breakfast together as a family. Come downstairs when you're done washing up."

I stood under the hot water with my head bowed. A family—how could I, a burden brought by a remarried wife, be worthy of being family with them?

But breakfast still had to be eaten. I changed into a turtleneck sweater and went to the dining room.

Peter looked the same as always—huge beer belly, bald head, meticulously groomed beard, eyes always carrying a vague sense of scrutiny. He seemed to be smiling, but that smile held many meanings.

"Irene, Gina told me you came back. I'm delighted. Starting next week, you'll attend the same school as Johnny," Peter said.

I froze for a moment. That was a prep school—one year's tuition could buy half a boarding school.

Gina winked at me, the smile at the corner of her mouth carrying a hint of pride.

I understood immediately. This was what my mother had fought for me—an unnecessary favor.

"Peter, are you planning to hold Johanna and Henry's engagement ceremony at Zinnia Garden?" Gina said while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Peter's smile became much more genuine. "The Green family is an old establishment. The engagement ceremony naturally has to be the best."

Gina nodded. "I heard the head of the Green family has returned from Europe?"

Peter paused, and a layer of gloom fell over his previously bright forehead.

"Vincent Green... that unfathomable guy. Sometimes I truly wish he would never come back. Under his shadow, Henry will never sit in the highest position of the Green family."

I took a sip of coffee, said quietly that I was full, and quickly left the table. When there are things I shouldn't hear, I need to get away immediately.

Last night had really drained too much of my energy. I figured I should take a nap and think about how to persuade Gina to send me back to boarding school. Compared to prep school, boarding school was practically a warm home.

"Hey, little chick, why aren't you following your hen mother?" Johanna's laughter came from the second floor.

I looked up at her. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, Johanna was always like a queen at a ball.

"Peter and Gina are waiting for you at breakfast," I said, then turned to leave.

"Did I say you could go?" Johanna said coldly, then slowly descended from the second floor. "You know what? Henry and I are engaged."

I said softly, "Peter mentioned it."

Johanna walked up to me, her blue eyes transparent with coldness. "Good. Then remember to stay away from my fiancé at school."

"Of course." I smiled, lowered my head, and walked past her.

---

A week later, I still put on that refined uniform and entered the prep school.

Even though Johanna was unhappy about it, even though I'd spent the entire week trying to convince Gina to send me back to boarding school, here I was, pretending as I moved among the young masters and ladies.

Just as I'd thought, prep school wasn't suitable for a country bumpkin like me to survive.

I was locked in a bathroom stall and let out a deep sigh.

These prep school girls had very limited imagination. The bullying tricks they could think of were just locking bathroom doors, and then.

Splash!

A bucket of ice-cold water poured down from above.

I sighed again. So uncreative.

I sat on the toilet for a while, listening to the laughter fade away outside. Then I took out a library card from my pocket and pried open the bathroom door.

Looking at my drenched self in the mirror, I smiled self-mockingly.

Sometimes I admired Gina. At least I couldn't do what she did.

There was no way I could return to class looking like this. I figured I might as well go home. Just as I walked out of the women's restroom, I ran right into someone.

"Oh, sorry." The man's low, mellow voice carried apology as he carefully steadied me.

The voice hit me like lightning. My body went rigid, and suddenly I was back in that dark garden, pinned beneath him, unable to escape no matter how hard I struggled. The memory of his hands gripping my wrists, his weight crushing me, his breath hot against my neck—it all came flooding back. I shuddered, almost reflexively feeling my waist and legs go weak, a phantom ache spreading through my body.

"It's you?" A flash of amusement crossed the man's green eyes, but it was immediately replaced by coldness. "They bullied you?"

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. It was him. The man from that night.

"It's fine. I'm used to it." My voice came out shakier than I intended. I pushed away his hand, trying to put distance between us.

Although I didn't recognize designer brands, his tailored suit and wristwatch were obviously beyond my level of contact.

Looking this disheveled, there was really no need for him to see me. More importantly, I needed to get away from him. Now.

I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist. The touch sent a jolt of terror through me—the same grip that had held me down that night.

"I can't let you walk away." His tone was unquestionable, like a natural-born emperor whose single word demanded us commoners bow and submit.

"Let go of me." I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

He took off his suit jacket and draped it over me, pulling my hand. His green eyes looked deeply at me. "Come with me."

"No, I—" Panic rose in my throat.

But he was already walking, and I had no choice but to follow or be dragged.

A room on the third floor with no sign on the door. I didn't know if this was an office or a dormitory. My mind raced, searching for an escape route as he led me inside.

The room had a sofa and a small table. The sofa. My stomach dropped.

"There's a bathroom inside. Go wash up," he said gently, as if that night had never happened.

I raised my head and looked at him, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I don't even know your name."

The man froze for a moment, lowered his head, and looked deeply at me. "I don't know your name either."

Something inside me snapped. I felt somewhat angry and pulled off the suit jacket, throwing it at his feet. "You didn't know my name but you still fucked me all night!"

The man suddenly lunged forward, cupped my face, and kissed me. The kiss was so fierce I briefly wondered if he wanted to bite me to death.

"No—stop—" I tried to push him away, but my body betrayed me, trembling not just with fear but with something else, something shameful. The memory of that night, the way he'd made my body respond despite my terror, came rushing back.

"Tell me, what's your name, tell me." He tore open my collar, his kisses sliding from my cheek down to my neck.

I tried to run. I actually made it two steps toward the door before he caught me, spinning me around and pushing me back. I gritted my teeth and punched and kicked at him, but he was too strong, and my body was already weakening, already remembering. In the end, we still ended up rolling onto that large sofa.

"Stop—please—" My protests dissolved into broken gasps as he pinned me down.

"Irene, Irene Perot." I bit my lip tightly, hating myself for the way my body responded, for the way I could feel myself giving in despite everything. I said my name in a broken voice, as if speaking it would somehow make this real, make it something other than what it was.

"Irene." His neatly styled hair fell loose from the intense movement, his green eyes carrying amusement. "Vincent. My name is Vincent Green."

My eyes widened, my body instantly tensing.

Vincent let out a muffled groan and held me tightly, his low, hoarse voice carrying a hint of laughter. "Ina, you're gripping me so nicely."

I pushed his face away, staring at him in shock.

"You're Henry's..."

Vincent looked at me with a smile. "I'm Henry's uncle."

It was too absurd. I laughed instinctively, a hysterical edge to the sound.

"So you're my ex-boyfriend's uncle?"

Vincent's smiling eyes slowly turned cold.