At my son’s one-month celebration, my sister Laura burst in, covered in blood. She collapsed to her knees before me, thrusting a DNA test into my hands as she slammed her head against the floor. “Luna, I promised I’d keep your secret, that I’d protect you and your lover,” she wailed. “But why did you try to kill me? Why did you kill Mom and Dad? Do I have to die for you to finally feel safe?” My husband, Joey, tore the DNA report to shreds. He demanded a divorce on the spot. Our son was sent to an orphanage, and I was sent to a private mental institution by Joey and my four older brothers for “rehabilitation.” For a year, I endured extreme treatments. I was a plaything for the wealthy sons of the elite, a canvas for their cruelty. My body was beaten black and blue, and I was forced to carry and then lose five children. They only let me out when Joey and my sister’s wedding was announced. By then, I just smiled vacantly, clutching a pillow to my chest, rocking it gently as if it were my baby. I walked out of the institution, still holding my pillow. My four brothers and Joey were waiting impatiently, leaning against a gleaming Maybach. The moment I emerged, a swarm of reporters descended, their cameras flashing like a volley of gunfire. The smallest-sized dress hung on my skeletal frame like a shroud. A single, gentle push from the crowd was enough to send me sprawling to the ground. They backed away, but their words closed in, sharp as knives. “Luna Sterling! You murdered your own parents and destroyed your sister’s chance to ever be a mother! Do you think playing the victim will win you any sympathy?” “If your sister wasn’t so forgiving, a cheating, venomous bitch like you would be on death row!” “You killed your own parents for a secret lover!” A piercing pain shot up my leg, mingling with the venom of their words, all of it flooding my heart. But I didn’t dare say a word in my defense. I just clutched my pillow tighter and bowed my head to the ground, slamming it against the pavement again and again. “I was wrong. I’m guilty. I’m a slut. I shouldn’t have killed Mom and Dad. I shouldn’t have hurt my sister…” After a year of torture, I no longer had the strength to fight back. Every denial, every plea of innocence, had only earned me more violent electrocutions, more brutal beatings. When I was finally a limp, broken thing on the floor, unable to make a sound, the rich boys would have their turn with me. They were all delinquents, sent to the institution not for treatment, but to hide from the consequences of their crimes. They loved watching a fresh flower be torn apart until it withered. The only difference between me and the other victims was that they were dead whores, and I was a living one. Because my four brothers and my ex-husband wouldn’t let me die. Their cold, merciless voices were a constant loop in the headphones they forced on me. “Luna, you worthless bitch, you deserve to die a thousand deaths. You killed our parents, you maimed our sister. You will atone.” My forehead hit the concrete. A warm liquid trickled down, blurring my vision with a crimson haze that finally, mercifully, blocked out the five figures I feared most. A polished leather shoe stopped my head from hitting the ground again. Joey used the toe of his shoe to lift my chin, his voice raining down on me from above. “Luna. You brought this on yourself.” The familiar sound sent a violent, uncontrollable tremor through my entire body. “I was wrong, I was really wrong, please don’t hit me, I’ll confess, I’ll be good, please, just let me go…” Joey’s eyes filled with a thick, syrupy disgust. He bent down, snatched the pillow from my arms, and used it to roughly wipe the blood from my forehead, forcing me to look at him. “A year, Luna. And your acting has improved dramatically. Sending you to that institution instead of prison was too lenient, I see.” His voice was laced with scorn. “Everyone knows that place is a safe house for spoiled brats. What new game are you playing now?” The emptiness in my arms sent a wave of panic through me. I crawled toward the blood-soaked pillow, my voice a broken whisper. “It’s okay, baby, don’t be scared… Mommy will protect you…” My four brothers closed in, shielding me from the flashing cameras. “Luna! Are you still obsessed with that bastard child? It seems you’re not too happy about the ‘rehabilitation’ we arranged for you. You ungrateful wretch!” My eldest brother, Ethan, kicked me square in the chest. A metallic tang filled my mouth, and I spat a spray of blood onto the pillow, where it mingled with the blood from my forehead. Ethan paused for a second, then sneered. “You deserve an Oscar for this performance, Luna. You even brought your own blood packet.” “It seems a year wasn’t punishment enough.” The crowd murmured. “I’m dying to know who this mystery lover is. To have the great Luna Sterling still so devoted to him after all this…” All eyes turned to Joey, the cuckolded husband. His face, already dark with disgust, turned black as thunder. I knew that look. It was the storm before the hurricane. Enraging any of them meant more pain. Instinct took over. I swallowed the blood in my mouth and continued my desperate, incoherent pleas. “I was wrong… I shouldn’t have seduced another man… I’m guilty, I deserve to die… Just don’t hit me, you can do whatever you want, just please, let me go…” I mechanically repeated the words, mechanically started to pull at my own clothes, a programmed response to their rage. I didn't even know who this "other man" was supposed to be. I didn't know why my parents had died, or why my son was suddenly a "bastard child." I didn't know what I had done to make the sister I had adored turn on me with such venom. Joey’s eyes blazed with fury. He stopped my hands as I tried to tear off my dress. “Luna, look what you’ve become in just one year. What a pathetic slut.” “What right do you have to ask us for mercy?” He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the hand that had touched me, and a cruel smile twisted his lips. My brothers, snapping out of their shock at my bizarre behavior, spoke as one. “Since you still haven’t realized your mistakes, we will be the ones to judge and punish you.” Joey opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a set of items he had prepared in advance. He turned to the cameras, his voice cold. “When the livestream hits one million viewers, the trial will begin.” So this was their plan. They weren’t here to release me. They were here to begin the next phase of my punishment. The news that the powerful Sterling and Thorne families were joining forces to publicly punish me, the disgraced heiress, sent viewership skyrocketing. The comments flooded in, a torrent of demands for the show to begin. To satisfy their curiosity, Ethan spoke first. “Luna, since you can’t remember what you did wrong, allow me to refresh your memory.” As his lips moved, the image of my parents’ fiery car crash flashed through my mind. I had only learned the details after I was institutionalized. On their way to my son’s celebration, their car had somehow spun out of control, slamming into a guardrail. The fuel tank ruptured, and the car was instantly engulfed in flames. The fire had consumed the car, a pillar of black smoke and roaring heat. My parents were trapped inside. Ethan held up his phone and played a recording. It was the sound of my parents’ final, agonizing screams, captured by Laura. The screams pierced my eardrums, my heart. I shut my eyes, but I could see their faces, twisting in the flames, their hands beating desperately against the windows. I had been forced to listen to this recording thousands of times, but it still shattered me. The pain of their death was a wound that would never heal. And what made it unbearable was that everyone believed I was the one who had tampered with their car. The live chat was a waterfall of hate, every comment a dagger in my heart. “Murderer! How dare you still be alive?” “Your parents must have had the worst luck in the world to have a daughter like you.” “A vicious bitch like you should burn in hell!” “You kill your own parents and then play the victim? Disgusting!” I stared at the words, my heart twisting. I wanted to scream that I didn’t do it, but I knew no one would believe me. I was a pariah, a monster in their eyes. I curled into a ball on the ground, hugging the bloody pillow as if it were my only lifeline. Tears streamed silently down my face, mixing with the blood. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad… I’m so sorry…” I whispered. “I don’t know why this happened…” Ethan’s voice cut through my grief, cold and merciless. “You think playing pathetic will save you, Luna? You killed our parents. You ruined your sister’s life. Did you really think you could escape justice?” I looked up at his merciless face, and my world dissolved into despair. The viewer count was still climbing. They were all hungry for the spectacle. They were all waiting to see me punished. I knew there was no escape. I wanted to die, but if I did, my son in that orphanage would truly be alone. He was just like me, a poor soul abandoned by his own family. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my body trembling as I waited for the torture to begin. “Let’s start,” Joey announced coldly. My nightmare was only just beginning.
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