From the moment I was born, my parents disliked me.

Dad called me a burden, and Mom said filth runs in my blood.

Each time Dad lost at gambling, he'd take it out on me.

I'd scream for help, but Mom would just give me a cold glance.

"Don't call me your mother. You got his blood running in you. You're just as rotten as he is."

Until the year I turned six, when a group of police officers stormed into our home and pinned my father to the floor while he was playing cards.

That was when I found out Mom came from a wealthy family in the city.

She had been abducted and trafficked here.

And I was the daughter born from that nightmare, the child of her abductor.

The man in charge kicked the door open. His eyes swe pt across the room before landing on my trembling mother in the corner.

His eyes welled with tears. "Becca, I'm sorry it took me so long."

My mom, Rebecca Morris, slowly lifted her head. When she saw the man's face, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.

The police took away my "dad," the trafficker, along with everyone else involved.

The man in the suit took off his jacket and draped it over Mom's frail shoulders.

He reached out to pat her, but seeing her bruises froze his hand midair. Then, he clenched it into a fist.

"Becca, I'm here to take you home."

Mom nodded weakly. When she stood up, her body swayed.

She followed her brother, William Morris, toward a sleek black car waiting outside. She never once looked my way.

I ran after them, gasping for breath and shouting, "Mom! Mom! Please don't leave me!"

Only then did Mom stop walking.

William turned around, his gaze was icy. "What do you want?"

A police officer walked over, looking uneasy.

"Mr. Morris, the trafficker has been arrested. Ms. Morris is the child's only legal guardian available to care for her. According to the law, the child has to stay with Ms. Morris for now."

William's face darkened. He glared at me like I was an eyesore.

"Officer, my sister's mental state is very unstable right now. This wretched child... is the living reminder of her trauma. Forcing her to see the trafficker's kid every day would just reopen her wounds.

"I understand it's the law, but can't we make an exception? You can send her to an orphanage first. Once Rebecca recovers, she can take her back."

The officer shook his head firmly.

In the end, William reluctantly turned to his bodyguard and muttered, "Fine. Let her ride in the trunk."

I froze, not knowing what to do.

The bodyguard walked over calmly and lifted me by the back of my collar, like he was picking up a stray cat.

I turned back to look at Mom. She stood with her back to me, her shoulders trembling.

The moment the trunk slammed shut, everything went black. I curled up in the cramped space, choking on the suffocating smell of gasoline and dust.

When the car started, I tumbled around helplessly, my head hitting the metal repeatedly.

My stomach churned violently, and I fought with all my strength not to throw up.

I was terrified they'd be like "Dad" and would drag me out to beat me senseless. But in the end, I couldn't hold it in and threw up.

Panicked, I yanked off my jacket and tried wiping up the mess, but the awful stench still caught William's attention.

He ordered the driver to pull over.

Seeing the trunk smeared with vomit, he clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked.

Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut and curled into a tight ball.

"Please don't hit me! I'll never do it again, I promise!"

William's raised fist froze midair. In the end, he lowered it and slammed the trunk shut.

I didn't know how much time had passed before the car finally stopped. The trunk opened, and the blinding light made me squint.

William stood above me, looking down with pure disgust.

"What are you waiting for? Get out, now!"

I scrambled out on all fours, my legs so weak I couldn't stand.

Before me stood a mansion bigger than anything I'd ever seen. It looked like a castle. A row of staff lined the entrance, greeting William when they saw him.

William wrapped an arm around Mom's shoulder and led her inside.

"Becca, it's fine now. You're home now."

An elderly woman with a kind face hurried out to greet them. The moment she saw Mom, tears welled in her eyes.

"My dear child, you're finally home! You must have suffered so much all these years, haven't you?"

Grandma held Mom tightly and sobbed, while William gently comforted them.

No one spared me a single glance...

I stood there, watching their reunion, a dull ache tightening in my chest.

Then a girl a few years older than me came running down the stairs. She was dressed like a princess, complete with a sparkling tiara.

"Aunt Becca! You're finally back!"

Olivia Morris threw herself into Mom's arms.

Mom stiffened, but still raised her hand and gently patted Olivia's back.

Olivia looked up, spotted me, and frowned. Pointing at me, she turned to William.

"Dad, who's she? Why is she so stinky?"

William's face darkened. He motioned for me to come over, his tone cold and flat.

"Come here."

I didn't dare move, standing there like a terrified fool.

He frowned. "Don't you understand me? Or are you deaf?"

I shuffled forward in tiny steps. He gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him.

"Listen well. From now on, in this house, keep your mouth shut and don't upset your mother. Otherwise, I have hundreds of ways to make you disappear."

His grip was so tight I could hardly breathe, but I didn't dare make a sound.

Janet Thompson, my grandmother, gave me a once-over.

"So this is the wretched child? She does look a bit like Becca. What a pity."

She sighed, then turned to a maid. "Take her to get cleaned up. Prepare a room for her in the basement. And remember, she is never to appear in front of Becca."

The maid nodded slightly, then led me through the back door and down into the basement.

She tossed me a set of Olivia's old hand-me-down clothes. "Change into these."

Then she turned and left, locking the door behind her.

There wasn't even a bed. I hugged the soft and clean clothes to my chest and lay on the cold floor. It pressed hard against my bones that I couldn't sleep at all.

By midnight, my stomach was growling nonstop. I tossed and turned for hours before I couldn't take it anymore.

I knocked on the door. "Can I please have something to eat?"

I called out for half an hour before a maid finally came in. She set a bowl down hard on the floor. It seemed to be leftover oatmeal.

As I stared at the bowl on the floor, I remembered the dog back in the countryside town. Its food was always served the same way.

When I didn't move, the maid snapped impatiently. "Eat up! I've got to clean up your bowl!"

Still, I didn't move. She kicked the bowl, and the oatmeal splattered across the floor.

"Then starve!"

After she left, I bent down and ate the oatmeal off the floor, one bit at a time.

From that day on, my bowl always sat in the corner of the hallway, right beside their pet Samoyed's bowl. Its name was Max.

Sometimes I fought Max for food because his kibble smelled better than my oatmeal.

For that, I often got beaten by Olivia.

She'd stomp on my hand with her polished leather shoe, calling me a filthy mutt for stealing from a dog. I never dared to fight back.

Because I knew if I resisted, the punishment would be worse.

Most of the time, I hid in the basement. I did everything I could to avoid crossing paths with Mom.

But I could still hear the sound of things shattering and her muffled sobs coming from her room.

William hired the best psychologist money could buy, but it didn't seem to help at all.

Mom's temper was growing more and more volatile.

One time during dinner, I didn't move out of the way fast enough and bumped into her. She completely lost it.

She banged her head against the wall, sobbing. "Why? Why..."

William rushed forward, wrapping Mom in his arms, comforting her.

After helping Mom upstairs, he suddenly shoved me to the ground and kicked me hard in the stomach.

"Can't you just stay out of her sight? Haven't you and that beast of a father already ruined Becca enough? Why must you keep showing up and upsetting her?"

I curled up on the floor. The pain was so intense I couldn't even cry out.

Still unsatisfied, he kicked me again. It wasn't until Janet shouted at him that he finally stopped.

That night, I came down with a fever.

Lying on the freezing basement floor, my body shook violently as my temperature dropped. It felt like I was dying.

Thinking of the look on Mom's face whenever she saw me, those eyes full of pain and hopelessness, tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

"Mom, if I die, will you finally forget the memories of being abducted? Will you stop hurting then?"

I closed my eyes, too exhausted to fight it anymore.

Half-conscious, I thought I heard Mom's voice again.

"How is she?"

"She's running a fever, Ms. Morris."

"Has the doctor checked on her?"

"Yes, Ms. Morris. He said it's because of the cold weather and malnutrition."

Mom went silent for a long while.

I tried to open my eyes to see her, but my eyelids were too heavy.

"Give her some medicine!"

A faint spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe Mom still cared, even just a little.

The maid brought the medicine and watched me swallow it.

The next day, my fever broke. The oatmeal the maid brought me had raisins in it.

I was reluctant to eat the raisins and kept them in my pocket.

I wanted to give them to Mom when she came down here. The townspeople always said raisins were good for your health.

I waited and waited, but she never came.

That afternoon, Olivia had her friends over.

She dragged me upstairs and showed me off like a freak. "Look, this is the wretch I told you about. The one my aunt gave birth to after she was taken by bad men."

"She fights with the dog for food every day."

Her friends burst out laughing.

"Ollie, you even keep pets like this at home?"

"Can she do tricks? Make her bark for us!"

Olivia lifted her chin proudly.

"Hey, wretch! Bark for me. If you do well, I'll reward you with a piece of cake."

I kept my head down and said nothing.

Olivia was embarrassed and kicked me hard. "How dare you ignore me?"

She snatched a rose from a vase and raked it across my face.

"Will you bark or not? I'll beat you to a pulp!"

My cheek stung, burning hot. Something wet and warm trickled down my cheek. When I wiped it, my hand was smeared with blood.

I bit my lip, still refusing to make a sound.

Olivia was livid and grabbed my hair, slamming my head against the floor.

"I told you to bark! Are you deaf?"

The raisins in my pocket fell out and Olivia crushed them under her shoe.

Those raisins were given by Mom, and I'd saved just for her.

A burst of strength rose up from deep inside me. I shoved Olivia away and dropped to my knees, trying to gather the mess, but there was nothing left to hold.

Olivia screamed, "How dare you? How dare you push me?"

She was furious and kicked me repeatedly.

Her friends joined in, kicking and stomping on me as I curled up on the ground.

I could only cover my head with my arms, every bone in my body aching in pain.

Just when I thought I was going to die, a cold, steady voice cut through the air.

"Stop!"

Mom stood at the top of the staircase, her face unreadable as she looked down at us.

Olivia rushed to Mom's side, tears brimming in her eyes as she tattled on me.

"Aunt Becca, she pushed me! She tried to hit me too!"

Mom's gaze fell on me and lingered there. There was something in her eyes I couldn't quite understand.

In the end, she said calmly, "Don't hit her again. I don't want her dying in this house."

Then, without another glance, she turned and went upstairs.

At that moment, the last flicker of hope in my heart went out. It turned out, Mom didn't care about me at all.

She just didn't want me dying here and causing her more trouble.

After that day, I became even quieter. I stopped fighting Max for food and stopped wishing to see Mom again.

Sometimes, I just stared blankly into the mirror.

Janet said I looked like Mom, but I couldn't see the resemblance at all.

Mom was beautiful, like a fairy. I was short and thin, like a weed sprouting from the dirt, especially these eyes of mine.

The townspeople used to say my eyes looked like my "father's." They were sharp and piercing, with a glint that made people look away first.

Maybe it was these very eyes that made Mom hate me so much.

That night, on my way to the bathroom, I passed William's study and heard him talking with Janet.

"Mom, Becca is still not doing well. The doctor says it's PTSD.

"That wretched child is her trigger! Every time she sees that child, those memories haunt her. Mom, we need to send her away."

"Send her where? She's still Becca's daughter. People will talk."

"Then let's send her to an overseas boarding school. As the saying goes: out of sight, out of mind. When she's older, we'll give her some money and let her fend for herself."

After a long silence, I heard Janet sigh heavily.

"There's no other way."

I was terrified.

They were going to send me to an unknown place. But I didn't want to go.

Even if this house was like hell to me, Mom was still here.

I ran to Mom's room and fell to my knees outside her room.

"Mom, please don't send me away! I'll be good, I promise! I'll stay out of sight, I won't bother you anymore..."

I don't know how long I knelt there, but my legs had gone numb. Finally, the door opened.

Mom stood in the doorway, her eyes clouded with something I couldn't name.

"Mom, I don't want to go!" I cried, begging her.

"Please don't send me away. I'll listen to you, I'll do whatever you say.

"Please, just let me stay."

Mom looked at me, the corners of her lips curling into a bitter smile.

"Let you stay? For what? So you can remind me every day how I was ruined by that bastard?

"Irene Gibson, you and that man are stains that I can never wash away!

"Every time I see you, I remember the way he pinned me down."

And just like that, my heart sank.

So, Mom didn't just not love me, she hated me. She hated that I even existed.

She stood up, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.

"Hello, is this St. Andrew's Daycare?

"I have a child here. Please come pick her up tomorrow."

She hung up, shut the door, and never looked back.

The next day, a black car pulled up in front of the house. Two women stepped out, and the butler led them straight to me.

I didn't resist nor did I cry. I just quietly followed them.

When we reached the door, I turned back. The curtains on the second floor stirred, and a thin, familiar silhouette flickered past.

I knew it was Mom.

The car pulled away. I watched the mansion shrink in the distance, my heart hollow and weightless.

This was for the best.

Leaving her would free us from our past.

But instead of heading to the airport, the car took me somewhere else. It was a grand estate built halfway up a hill, even grander than the Morris's residence.

An elderly man with bright, steady eyes stood at the door, as if he'd been waiting for a long time.

When he saw me step out, he came toward me quickly. The two women greeted him respectfully.

"Mr. Ashford, we've brought the child."

The man nodded, crouched down, and looked at me. His gaze was gentle. It was so different from everyone back in the Morris family.

"Child, what's your name?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

He didn't mind. He just sighed softly and reached out to pat my head.

"Don't be afraid. From now on, this will be your home.

"I'm your grandpa."

My grandpa?

I froze on the spot.