Chapter 4

"What are you zoning out for?"

Laura’s voice snapped me back to reality as she shoved me into the back seat of the SUV.

The four of us were sitting in the same car again, a setup that felt like a sick mockery of our past.

I was exhausted. I leaned my head against the cold glass window, closing my eyes to endure the throbbing pain in my wrist and head.

In the confined space of the car, the metallic scent of fresh blood quickly filled the air.

Sophie frowned, sniffing the air. "Is that... blood?"

Laura, who was driving, glanced at the rearview mirror with a deep scowl.

"Ask him," she snapped.

Sophie nudged my shoulder.

I forced my eyes open, looking at her with a dazed, empty stare.

Sophie reached out and wiped a bit of the blood from my forehead with her fingertip.

"Is special effects makeup really this realistic nowadays?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

Looking at her clueless face, the corner of my lip twitched into a bitter smile.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

I was laughing at how stupid they were.

No, these three women were highly intelligent Ivy League graduates.

They were just so blinded by their hatred for me that they refused to see the truth.

Since I didn't say anything, they stopped asking, assuming I was just playing a pathetic prank with fake blood.

Soon, the car pulled up to a familiar luxury high-rise.

Looking at the building, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

Before my family went bankrupt, we owned the penthouse here.

My parents had to sell it to pay off their debts.

From the passenger seat, Maria spoke in a casual tone.

"Don't look so shocked. Julian said he loved this place, so the three of us bought it as a gift for him."

A wave of cold dread washed over me.

Standing before the doors of my childhood home, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I stared at the three women who had once promised to stand by my side forever.

"You knew I was saving every penny to buy this place back for my parents."

"Yet you bought it and gave it to Julian?"

My parents loved this place. It held all our family memories.

That was the whole reason I worked so hard as a dancer—I didn't want to rely on these women's money to buy it back.

I was so close to having enough. Then, I was thrown into prison.

And during those two years, they handed my home to Julian on a silver platter.

My chest felt suffocatingly tight.

The three of them exchanged glances, their expressions hardening.

"Julian wanted it for his twenty-fourth birthday. Of course we were going to make his dream come true," Laura said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"There are plenty of other penthouses in this building. If you like it so much, buy a different one."

"Besides, you made Julian a cripple two years ago. What's wrong with giving him this apartment?" Sophie added.

"We’re just helping you pay for your sins, Davis."

Was I supposed to thank them for stealing my home to pay for a crime I didn't commit?

How pathetic.

Just then, the front door opened, revealing a pale, handsome young man.

He was wearing loose white sweatpants, sitting in a high-tech wheelchair.

When he saw me, Julian let out a soft gasp and quickly shielded his face.

"He... why did you bring him here...?"

Tears instantly streamed down his face.

Two years, and he was still a master of crying on cue.

If I had known he was this good at acting, I would have introduced him to a Hollywood agent instead of making him my assistant.

Julian’s sudden panic immediately triggered the protective instincts of the three women. They glared at me like lionesses, ready to pounce if I even breathed in Julian's direction.

My head throbbed violently from his crying.

Staring at his "paralyzed" legs hidden beneath the loose fabric of his pants, I spoke quietly.

"Why don't you roll up your sweatpants, Julian? Show them your prosthetic leg."