To spite the fake heiress, my fiancé and my brother decided to abandon me on a private island on my wedding day. They had a standing bet, wagering on how long it would take me to realize I was being played. My brother, Blake, slammed his expensive Rolex onto the poker table. “I bet a month.” He chuckled, the sound grating. “See, my sister—Willow—she was kidnapped as a child. A bad fever when she was little, and it left her... well, simple. A bit slow on the uptake.” “If Preston hadn’t, by sheer luck, found her and brought her home, she’d have died out there years ago.” My fiancé, Preston, coolly slipped off the vintage watch he’d worn since his twentieth birthday, an old family heirloom. He gave a cold, sharp smile. “I bet three days.” “She’ll be crying on the phone to me, begging me to come and get her.” The room erupted in loud, mocking laughter. Outside the room, my palms were clenched so tight my knuckles were bloodless, stark white against my skin. That night, I dialed the number etched deep in my heart, my voice trembling with wounded confusion. “Rhys, I want to go home. Please, take me home…” 1 “That’s savage, Blake! Aren’t you worried that when Madison realizes, she won’t forgive her dear brother?” The voice came from the billiards room, thick with drunken amusement. Blake laughed, a hollow sound. “I’ve already made arrangements. It’s just a lesson, a little scare, that’s all.” “We’re not leaving her there for good, are we?” “She’s a fool who can barely remember her own name. A few sweet words, and she’ll be fine.” Another man pressed the point. “Preston, you’re ruthless, too!” “The poor simple girl is happily waiting to marry you, and you’re sending her off for an island survival trial.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll actually run away?” “Run?” His careless, dismissive laugh cut into my ear like a shard of glass. “Where is a fool going to run to?” “Once she figures out what she did wrong, we’ll bring her back, naturally.” The sinister words were swallowed by a chorus of derisive snickers. I clutched my chest, the dull, aching throb inside making me feel faint. I stared at my pale, drawn reflection in the window glass, trying desperately to figure out: What exactly did I do wrong? Was it the time I had a 104-degree fever and didn’t get Madison a cupcake? Or was it when it was raining, and I didn’t kneel down to wipe the mud off Madison’s shoes? But… I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. Last time, when I donated a full pint of blood for Madison—Blake had promised me he’d never hurt my feelings again. And Preston had said he would be my family from then on. The Matron at the old home used to say that family doesn’t hurt family. It hurt to realize that, apparently, family does hurt family. The realization brought a fresh wave of injustice. My chest felt tight, as if filled with pins and needles. The tears welled up and clung to my lashes. A gentle blink sent them splashing onto the polished floorboards. The pain—a crushing, physical ache—stayed with me right up until dinner. At the large dining table, I instinctively retreated to my usual place in the corner, nervously watching Blake and Preston. They sat on either side of Madison, one laughing and chatting with her, the other carefully plating her food. A bright red chili pepper suddenly landed in my bowl. I turned my head and met a pair of maliciously playful eyes. “Blake said your favorite food is chili peppers. Is that true?” I hesitated, then picked up the pepper and put it in my mouth. The choking heat exploded, instantly searing my nose and throat. I couldn’t stop the violent coughing fit that followed. My face flushed a painful crimson. Blake strode over. When he heard what happened, he smacked the top of my head. “You’re about to be a married woman! Why are you still such a stupid pig?” “Someone gives you something, and you just eat it? You’ll be poisoned one day, and you won’t even know it!” I coughed, the effort tearing at my lungs. The sting in my heart deepened, layered now with raw confusion. Last month, they’d told me to jump into the koi pond to catch a fish. I’d told them I might drown. Blake had just thrown me in. He waited until I was almost sinking before having someone pull me out. Afterward, he’d cursed me for embarrassing him, and kept his face frozen in a cold mask for a whole week. Now, I had done exactly as I was told, eaten what I was given. Why was he still unhappy? I didn't understand. I suppressed the coughs, but the noise in my ears felt deafening. Madison clattered her chopsticks down, her tone petulant. “Stop coughing! Your germs are everywhere. How is anyone supposed to eat?” Madison’s sharp voice had become a waking nightmare for me. I involuntarily hunched my shoulders and drew my neck into my body. The next second, Blake grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out of the dining room. As we left, I saw Preston still seated, casually talking to someone else. He didn't spare me a single glance. Blake dumped me in the back garden. “Stand right here. You’re not coming back in until everyone has finished eating!” He walked away without looking back, leaving me alone in the mosquito-infested yard. I waited for what felt like forever. Blake never came back to get me. The sky began to weep small drops of rain. They fell onto the welts left by the mosquito bites, offering a moment of cool, brief relief. The rain lasted for thirty minutes. I stood there, drenched, for all thirty. Just as I felt I might pass out from the chill, a shadow appeared above me—the dark silhouette of an umbrella. I looked up. Preston’s face, framed by the misting rain, seemed terrifying and utterly unfamiliar. I flinched back, confused. The man’s voice was low and eerie. “Look at me. Who am I?” My brain was slow; I sometimes struggled to tell people apart. Preston always enjoyed playing this game—forcing me to fail. Forcing me to engrave his face permanently onto my memory. For the first time, I didn't answer. Preston’s cold, biting voice dropped heavily onto my head. “Fine. That’s just great.” “It’s been five years, and you still can’t remember my face.” “Willow, what makes you any different from a stray you pick up off the street? An ingrate.” I shrank back, then, surprisingly, looked up and stared at him without fear. I stood up, pushed past him, and ran back into the house, racing to my room. I didn’t clean up. I just curled up inside the bed, soaked, pulling the covers tight around me. The laughter and noise from downstairs continued until past midnight. I woke up burning hot, the fever spiking. I grabbed my phone and dialed the number etched in my memory. As soon as the call connected, I couldn’t stop the sobs building in my throat. “Rhys… they… they’re all bullying me…” “I want to go home! Please, hurry, take me home!!” Rhys was my best friend from The Sunrise Home. Before he was adopted, he made me promise to memorize his number. If I ever needed him, I had to call. Silence stretched on the other end. Then, a man’s voice, thick with suppressed emotion, came through. “W-Willow? Is that really you?” “It’s me, Rhys. I want to go home…” “Okay. I’ll come get you. Just please, stop crying, alright?” I nodded, the tears pouring out even faster. Rhys, just like when we were children, began to hum a soft, familiar lullaby on the other end of the line, soothing me to sleep. I closed my eyes, the sound of my own shaky breathing gradually softening. I fell asleep, dreaming. I dreamed that in three days, I successfully left the Sayer house. I was back at the Home. Back with the Matron. I was holding Rhys’s hand again, telling him how much I missed him. Later that night, my fever was still raging. Through my delirium, I heard Blake complaining. “The bet’s on the line. Why did she have to spike a fever right now? What if she gets even stupider?” Madison whined. “Just give her a few more shots to bring the fever down.” “I don’t care. In three days, you have to dump her on that island. I need my satisfaction!” A sharp sting in my arm—an injection—traveled straight to my heart. Blake sighed, a sound of resigned compromise. “Fine, fine, your highness. Anything you want.” I kept my eyes closed. My chest felt so heavy, so tight, I could barely breathe. We were both his sisters. Why did Blake treat me like this? Was I not obedient enough? But the Matron had always said I was the most obedient child at the Home. When I finally woke up, Blake and Madison were gone. Mrs. Bell, the family caretaker, sat by my bed, holding a bowl of warm broth. I recalled Blake’s sickeningly indulgent tone with Madison and pursed my lips. “Mrs. Bell, am I really stupid?” Mrs. Bell’s palm was wide and comforting as she stroked my hair. Her voice was gentle. “No, Miss Willow. You’re not stupid. You are the kindest, most obedient girl I have ever known.” I nodded hard, tears splashing into the bowl of broth. I suddenly missed the Matron terribly. I missed everything about The Sunrise Home. I wished Rhys would come right now and take me away, never to return. After finishing the broth, I lay back down to sleep. When I woke again, the person by my bed was Preston. I shot up, scrambling back into the corner of the bed. Ever since I overheard his words in the billiards room, I felt a tremor of fear whenever I saw him. Seeing my reaction, his face darkened slightly. “You don’t want me here that much?” I pressed my lips together tightly. Normally, I was always thrilled when Preston came to see me. He was the one who brought me back to the Sayer house. He was the one who initially stepped in when Madison bullied me. But somewhere along the way, he had changed. He had become utterly unrecognizable... His expression turned colder. He gestured for me to approach. “Come here.” I didn’t move. He repeated the command. “Don’t make me say it twice!” Slowly, reluctantly, I slid closer. As soon as I was within reach, he grabbed the back of my head and crushed his mouth to mine. It was a harsh, punitive bite rather than a kiss. I shoved him away, my eyes wide with terror. Preston simply smirked. “Why the sudden shyness? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.” His tone was perfectly normal, yet a chill ran down my spine. Preston used to hold me gently. He had always said we could only kiss if he loved me, and I loved him. But he had just called me a fool and said he didn’t like me. Why would he kiss me now? I retreated to the corner again, frantically wiping the blood from my lips, glaring at him. “You’re mean!” His expression instantly snapped to icy rage. He lunged forward to grab me. I tried to dodge, but he caught my wrist and yanked me back against his chest. Just as I prepared to bite his arm with all my might, the guest room door opened. Madison stood in the doorway, her eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. Instantly, Preston violently shoved me away. I hit the corner of the wall, the impact shaking me, a cold dread flooding my heart. Madison turned and ran. Preston sprinted after her. He was moving so fast that he knocked a small clay figure off the dresser. It was a figure Preston had personally molded five years ago to help me remember his face. I lunged forward, but I was too late. The sound of the clay figure shattering echoed loudly in my ears. It felt exactly like the time five years ago when Preston had scolded me. “Little fool, this figure looks just like me. If you break it, I’ll never talk to you again.” I picked up the mud doll, now broken cleanly in half. Tears streamed down my face. For the first time, I felt truly stupid. Truly, unbearably stupid. I couldn’t even hold onto this fragile, fleeting trace of love. I clutched the broken clay in my hands and ran out barefoot, desperate to find someone who could fix it. I held onto a sliver of hope—if the figure could be mended, maybe the Preston from five years ago could come back. That hope shattered the moment I saw Preston holding Madison close, wrapping his arms around her. In that instant, I finally understood. The Preston from five years ago wasn't coming back. He was truly gone. And there was one less person in the world who loved me. A voice, sneering, reached my ears. “What else do you do all day besides cry?” I turned and looked at Blake. His face was malicious as he glanced down at the two embracing figures. “Quite the match, aren’t they?” “I honestly don’t understand. What does a fool like you have over Madi?” “Maybe simpletons really do get all the luck?” I didn't speak. A bone-deep coldness spread from my feet through my whole body. Blake frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my silence. “What’s the matter, did the fever make you mute?” His gaze flicked down to the clay figure in my arms, and his eyes lit up with mean interest. “Is that supposed to be Preston? It’s so ugly. You actually thought of giving that to him?” He swung his hand and smacked the figure out of my grasp. This time, it shattered completely. It was beyond repair. I crouched down, looked at the fragmented face, and then looked up at Blake. “Blake, am I really that detestable?” It was the first time I hadn't called him 'Brother.' He’d said himself that he was ashamed to have a sister like me. Now, however, Blake frowned tightly. “What did you call me? Did the fever fry your brain again?” He vented his frustration by slamming his foot down hard on my hand. The small clay shards dug into my palm, and blood immediately welled up. I bit my lip, pushed him away with all my strength, and ran toward the stairs. I ran fast, feeling like I was flying. As I passed Madison and Preston, I didn't spare them a glance. Preston released Madison and yelled after me. “Willow! Where are you going? Stop!” I didn’t stop. The drops of blood from my palm splattered a steady, light pattern onto the floor. Outside, the morning light was dazzling. In a daze, I thought I saw the Matron. She held her arms open, her expression gentle and sacred. “Willow, let’s go home.” “Matron!” I lunged toward the vision, only to slam hard onto the ground. The pain brought me back to reality. There was nothing there. No one loved me. Preston carried me back to the bedroom and threw me onto the bed. “I want to go home! I want to go home!” I screamed, trying to reach for my phone to call Rhys and tell him to come now. Preston snatched the phone away, his voice laced with impatience. “Stop this noise. This is your home.” No. My home was The Sunrise Home. This place was not my home! Blake stood nearby, sneering. “She was already simple. Now she’s just completely lost it.” Madison hid behind him, acting terrified. “Brother, does she have a psychiatric condition?” Blake stroked her hair. “Don’t worry. Brother will protect you.” I glared at all of them, my gaze finally settling on Madison. Her expression was mocking as she mouthed the word: “Idiot.” The last of my control snapped. I lunged forward like a wild animal, trying to scratch and bite Madison. Before I could reach her, Preston shoved me with such force that I hit the corner of the nightstand, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. Madison was so startled she fainted. Blake picked her up, tossing a final, vicious threat my way. “I’ll deal with you later!” Preston looked at me with pure, chilling disdain. “Willow, you disappoint me greatly.” “Being simple is not an excuse to randomly attack people.” I hugged myself tightly, wrapping my arms around my chest, as if that could shield me from any more hurt. Mrs. Bell rushed in after hearing the commotion to clean up the mess. She gently peeled my arms away from myself and tended to my scraped knees. “Miss Willow, tell me if it hurts.” I pointed to my heart. “Here. It hurts so much, so much…” Mrs. Bell’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she sighed. I grabbed her arm, pleading. “Mrs. Bell, I want to go home. I want to go back to the Home…” Mrs. Bell sighed again, heavier this time. “Miss Willow, have you forgotten again?” “The Home was torn down three years ago. And the Matron who took care of you… she passed away from stomach cancer five years ago…” Yes. The Matron was dead. The memory started to surface from the murky depths of my mind. I remembered the Matron saying she would become a star in the sky to keep watch over me. I remembered Preston swearing to her, before he took me to the Sayer house. “From now on, Willow is my life.” I remembered the Matron lying in the coffin, impossible to wake up, no matter how hard I cried. I had no Matron anymore. I had no home. Blake came back the next day. He was still fuming. He threw open a suitcase and began frantically stuffing my usual items inside—my favorite cup, my pajamas, a change of clothes, and my favorite snacks… “Don’t think for a minute that you attacking Madi is over.” “Get out of here before she wakes up. You’re going to Preston’s house!” “You’re not allowed back until she forgives you, understood?” As he spoke, his eyes fell on the family photograph on my nightstand. It was taken right after I came home. Madison stood in the center, glowering. Blake was beside her, bent over, trying to cheer her up. I, the main subject, was huddled in the corner, managing a tentative, nervous smile. He hesitated, then stuffed the photo into the suitcase. His phone rang. He walked out onto the balcony to take the call. I took the photograph out and dropped it into the trash can. I wasn’t coming back anyway. There was no point in taking it with me. From a distance, I heard Blake’s cold laugh. “I’ve already given the word. This time, she needs to be locked up for at least a month. She’ll come home once she’s learned her lesson.” “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He didn’t need to go through all this trouble. He wouldn’t be seeing me again, ever. He hung up, returned to the room, grabbed the suitcase, and pulled me downstairs. I thought for a moment, then struggled free of Blake’s grip and ran back into the bedroom. I took out a knife-carved portrait and held it out to him. He didn’t take it, glancing at it and dismissing it instantly. “What is this? It’s ugly.” I paused. “It’s a birthday present.” A month ago, I’d asked Blake what he wanted for his birthday. He’d asked for a knife-carved portrait of himself. Everyone knew he was purposefully making an impossible demand. But my slow brain didn’t realize. I took a small knife and worked quietly for a month, leaving countless tiny cuts on my hands. I hadn’t planned on giving it to him. But this was the last time I would ever give him a birthday gift. My reminder finally jogged his memory. He reverted to his usual disparaging tone. “You actually carved it? How could you be so foolish?” As soon as he spoke, I mimicked his own casual cruelty and threw the carving into the trash can. The next second, he pulled the carving out of the bin, roaring in anger. “What are you doing now? Are you going crazy?” “I didn’t say I didn’t want it!” I stared at Blake, utterly bewildered. He cleared his throat, placed the carving on the desk, and dragged me toward the door. “Let’s go. Stop cluttering up the house!” He didn't stop lecturing, even at the doorway. “Be obedient when you get there, you hear me? Don’t humiliate me again!” “If anyone bothers you, call me. Did you hear that?” I just thought he sounded extraordinarily loud and irritating today, making my eardrums ache. The car that came to pick me up arrived astonishingly fast. So fast that Blake looked surprised. “Didn’t they say they were still half an hour away?” He didn't dwell on it. He simply opened the car door, shoved me and the suitcase inside. I met Rhys’s gaze in the rearview mirror. We hadn't seen each other in years. He only showed a pair of beautiful eyes above his mask. But I recognized him instantly. Rhys. He had come to take me home.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "387593", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel