“Anastasia Fairchild, look at me!”
Rayna Avery fisted a handful of Anastasia’s tangled hair and yanked her up from the cold floor, forcing her chin toward her.
Anastasia was skin and bones, her face sunken in, wearing nothing but a filthy, torn hospital gown in the dead of winter. She looked like she’d been hollowed out, moving only because her body hadn’t figured out how to stop yet. She didn’t react at all to Rayna’s rough grip.
That only pissed Rayna off more.
She’d spent six years setting up this perfect trap. Finally crushing Anastasia into something less than human—if she didn’t get to see her completely break down, what was the point?
“You’re practically dying already. Don’t you want to see your grandpa one last time?” Rayna sneered, her smile sharp and vicious.
The moment she mentioned her grandfather, a faint ripple passed through Anastasia’s empty eyes.
Rayna’s excitement spiked. She tightened her grip on Anastasia’s hair and dragged her across the room like she was hauling a corpse. Stopping before a curtain, she jerked it open with a loud snap.
Behind it lay an old man so thin he looked carved out of dry wood, tubes running everywhere. His eyes were open—aware—but he couldn’t speak or move. When he saw what had become of Anastasia, tears streamed helplessly down his cheeks.
“Grandpa…” Anastasia stared at him in shock, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
Three years ago, she’d fought with her grandfather just to marry Marcus Ludlow, never realizing Marcus had been sneaking around with her cousin Rayna Avery the whole time. The marriage had only been a setup to steal her shares in the family’s Tongfan Group.
On their wedding night, Marcus tricked her into signing the transfer documents, then instantly turned on her and had her locked away in a psychiatric hospital.
Since then, she had become Rayna’s personal punching bag—three long years of cruelty and torment.
Her grandfather had always been healthy, sharp-minded. Anastasia had thought no one could ever touch him.
“What did you do to my grandpa?” Her chest tightened so hard it felt like it would split. Tears poured down her face.
“Nothing big,” Rayna said with a twisted grin. “Just gave him regular injections of a little slow-acting poison. Funny thing—he knew it was poison, but for your sake, he just let us do whatever we wanted. He really did spoil you, didn’t he?”
Of course…
Anastasia felt like her insides were burning.
“Rayna Avery… you stole my husband, stole everything I had. You tortured me for three whole years—Is that still not enough? Grandpa raised you, he treated you like his own! How could you do this to him?!” Anastasia’s voice cracked with fury as she lifted a trembling hand to strike Rayna.
But she was far too weak. Rayna easily slapped her across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.
"You think I'm ungrateful? If that old bastard had lent my dad the money back then, would those loan sharks have beaten him to death? Would I have ended up with my whole family ruined and myself an orphan?" Rayna Avery spat out, her voice full of venom.
"Your family fell apart because your dad couldn't stop gambling. Grandpa covered his debts so many times…"
"Shut up!" Rayna hissed through clenched teeth and slapped Anastasia Fairchild hard across the face.
"Ah!" The old Mr. Fairchild struggled desperately, furious at seeing his granddaughter bullied like that.
Seeing him react, Rayna grabbed Anastasia by the hair again and shoved her down in front of the old man. Her smile was cold and twisted. "Hurts to watch, huh? Then how about I tell you something even better? Six years ago, Anastasia wasn't assaulted at all. Those filthy photos? All staged by people I hired. Feeling the regret hit you yet? No matter how much she tried to explain back then, you never believed her. You’re the one who pushed her straight into Marcus Ludlow’s arms—and mine. She is what she is today thanks to you."
The old man’s eyes widened in shock.
It was the kind of cruelty that stabbed straight into the heart.
Anastasia stared at Rayna in disbelief. "Rayna Avery, what did you just say?"
"You really still don’t get it? Seriously, how dense can you be?" Rayna’s voice was mocking, dripping arrogance. "Everything from six years ago—every single part of it—was my plan. Including Marcus. He never loved you. His so-called warmth and tenderness? All just steps in my setup. From beginning to end, you only ever disgusted him."
"No… no! That’s impossible! You’re lying!"
Anastasia had always believed Marcus changed later… that at least when she’d been at her lowest, his concern had been real.
How could all of that just be part of a scheme?
Rayna finally got what she wanted.
Her smile grew wilder, almost crazed. "Anastasia, that old hag Mrs. Hill warned you again and again. But you trusted me so blindly. Do you know what her last words were before she died? She begged me to spare you."
Anastasia froze. "What did you say? Mrs. Hill… Mrs. Hill is dead?"
Mrs. Hill had been the Fairchild family’s housekeeper, the one who had raised Anastasia since she was small.
"What else did you think? She wanted to tell the old man everything. You think I’d let her live? Dead people keep secrets the best."
"Rayna Avery!!!" Anastasia’s voice cracked, her heart tearing apart.
Mrs. Hill had warned her so many times, told her Rayna was manipulative and dangerous and that she should stay away.
But she hadn’t believed it. She’d even gotten mad at Mrs. Hill for saying those things.
Later, when Mrs. Hill disappeared, Rayna Avery casually told everyone she had gone back to her hometown, and Anastasia Fairchild actually believed her.
She never imagined… Mrs. Hill had been killed by Rayna.
“And your dead‑in‑a‑ditch parents!” Rayna didn’t stop. She was way too obsessed with watching Anastasia, that once‑untouchable swan, crumble under her heel. “You really thought that car accident was just bad luck?”
Anastasia’s sobs cut off instantly.
Rayna’s question hit like a lightning strike.
Half a month after the rumor about her being assaulted spread, her parents died tragically in a so‑called “traffic accident.”
Rayna burst into hysterical laughter. “Your parents were just as brainless as you! They found out the nudes had something to do with me, but instead of calling the cops, they phoned me to confront me! I squeezed out a few tears, tossed some lame excuse about being threatened and planning to turn myself in, and guess what? They bought it. I hung up and messed with their car right away…”
“Rayna Avery! You’re not human—you’re a monster!” Anastasia roared, fury burning through her, her scar‑covered, blood‑stained hand clamping onto Rayna’s arm like a dying animal refusing to let go.
Hate flooded her eyes like a tidal wave.
Three years in that hellhole of a psychiatric hospital—she’d thought Rayna’s cruelty had already reached the bottom.
Turns out she’d only seen the surface.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to tear Rayna apart with her bare hands.
But she was too weak.
“Anastasia, let’s be real—whether it’s Mrs. Hill or your parents, their deaths all trace back to you.” Rayna lifted her leg and kicked hard at Anastasia’s stick‑thin arm. A sharp, sickening crack echoed in the room.
“Ah!” Pain slammed into Anastasia like a collapsing mountain, ripping a scream out of her throat.
Rayna stepped back, her face twisted with disgust as she wiped the spot Anastasia had touched. “If you had trusted Mrs. Hill back then—or if you weren’t always acting so pathetic and fragile—your parents wouldn’t have kept my secret from you. And even if we go ten thousand steps back, if you’d just listened to that old man and not married Marcus Ludlow, none of my plans would’ve worked!”
Right then, the machine next to the hospital bed started shrieking an alarm.
Anastasia panicked. Ignoring her broken arm, she scrambled forward, nearly falling over herself.
The old man had heard too many brutal truths at once—his body was convulsing violently. Anastasia broke down in tears. “Grandpa… Grandpa, hold on, I’ll get a doctor right now!”
She spun around, ready to beg Rayna for help.
Her dignity had long been crushed; her grandfather was the only person left in this world who still counted as family.
As long as she could save him, she didn’t care what Rayna Avery made her do.
She had just turned around, not even getting a word out, when something cold and slimy dumped over her head.
The sharp smell hit her immediately.
Gasoline?
Anastasia Fairchild’s heart lurched. Rayna wasn’t planning to scare her—she wanted her burned alive.
Dying didn’t scare her anymore. After three years of torture, death felt almost like a release.
But…
She couldn’t let her grandfather die because of her.
Shaking uncontrollably, she pleaded, her voice hoarse and trembling. “Rayna, do whatever you want to me, I’m begging you… just let my grandpa go!”
Rayna stepped out of the room with a lazy, almost playful pace. Then she turned back, her eyes full of open mockery.
“Anastasia, you still living in your little fantasy? I’m here to ruin you completely. Even if you die, I’ll make sure you don’t get a single moment of peace. Tomorrow, you’ll be back on every major news headline. ‘Deranged heiress breaks out of asylum, sets fire to kill her own grandfather.’ Nice title, right?”
A wave of pure despair crashed over Anastasia.
So that was why Rayna dragged her out of the asylum.
She wanted to frame her—make her the monster who burned her own grandfather alive.
“Oh, and by the way,” Rayna added casually, “Maxwell Hartley’s already downstairs. Didn’t expect that cold, untouchable man to fall for trash like you. These past few years, he practically handed over half his assets to me and Marcus Ludlow because of you… But if you die and he’s still alive, that’s way too risky. Since he’s so obsessed with you, might as well let him die with you.”
Maxwell Hartley?
Anastasia froze.
Strictly speaking, she barely even knew him. He’d once tried to take over Fairchild Group by force, and she’d never had a good impression of him.
Why would he—
“Anastasia Fairchild, don’t be such an idiot in your next life.”
Rayna clearly wasn’t interested in explaining anything. She flicked open a lighter with a sharp snap. The flame danced wildly in her eyes, lighting up her twisted excitement. Then she tossed the lighter straight into the room.
A deafening boom ripped through the ward, and the room soaked in gasoline went up in flames in an instant, turning into a blazing inferno straight out of hell.
The fire lashed across Anastasia Fairchild’s skin like a swarm of burning whips, each strike sharp enough to tear through her soul. On the bed, the old man was swallowed by the flames even faster. Her heart felt like it was being twisted apart; she could only watch helplessly as he writhed in agony inside the roaring fire.
“Rayna Avery! I swear I’ll haunt you even if I die! You and Marcus Ludlow won’t get a peaceful end!”
Her desperate scream sliced through the still, dark night outside the hospital.
Moments later, footsteps burst into the room. Someone rushed in, calling her name over and over, then pulled her into a tight embrace as she struggled in the fire.
Anastasia felt her insides turning to ashes.
“Go… you have to go! You’ll die in here!”
Her mind screamed the words in raw panic.
She didn’t want anyone—anyone—to lose their life because of her again.
Please… just run…
But the person holding her never loosened his grip.
Right before consciousness slipped away entirely, Anastasia faintly heard a low, steady voice whisper next to her ear, “I’m never letting you face anything alone again.”
