Chapter 484 A Justified Hatred
In the side room, Carl gestured for Yunice to sit as he lowered himself into his chair. His expression was unreadable, impossible to tell whether he was angry or disappointed. Yunice glanced at the way his fingers rubbed the signet ring on his thumb. Then she heard his voice.
“Yunice, did you really do what your mother said?” He lifted his gaze, eyes unreadable and deep. “Did you pour chili oil down her throat? Did you force Owen and your mother to slap each other? Did you really do that?”
Yunice’s fingers curled tightly. She didn’t shy away from his gaze. After three seconds of silence, she calmly admitted, “I did.”
Carl’s brows furrowed, and his voice turned stern and heavy. “You actually admit it? Do you even understand what you’ve done? This is cruelty beyond reason–vicious and heartless!”
Yunice sat and listened quietly. She tried her best to remain composed, but the slight movement of her throat and the pale hue of her face betrayed her inner turmoil. She didn’t care if people feared her. She didn’t care about insults.
She’d heard it all before. She could ignore most things. But not the words of someone she cared about. Words from someone she valued were like knives–cutting deep into her chest without mercy.
But Yunice couldn’t lie. Not to Carl. She knew that once trust was broken, it was nearly impossible to rebuild. If the real her disappointed Mr. Carl, so be it. She would rather face his rejection than play both sides.
Carl’s hand clenched into a fist, the signet ring squeezing his thumb so tightly that all color drained from the skin beneath it. He looked at her with confusion and pain. “Do you hate them that much?”
The question struck something deep inside her. Yunice’s lashes trembled. Then her black eyes seemed to flicker with fire. She gritted her teeth.
“Yes. I hate them that much. When I poured chili oil into my mother’s mouth, I was grinding my teeth the whole time. And even then, I thought it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted it hotter. I wanted to see her gasp for air, choking and in agony, and I loved it. Every inch of me screamed in satisfaction. And forcing my brother and mother to slap each other? I didn’t feel cruel at all. That was their own choice.”
She thought she’d grown strong enough not to care. But as she calmly voiced the truth, tears slid from her eyes without her even noticing.
“I was only sixteen. My dad had only been gone for two years. I thought my mom’s return would be a ray of light in my life. But in just two years, everything changed…”
She sounded frantic now, her eyes wide with confusion and pain. “Mr. Carl, do you know what that feels like? That constant sense of not belonging? Before Elsie showed up, Owen and I would eat together. He’d pass me food. We knew each other’s routines, what we liked. But once they came, I don’t even know when it happened–I got pushed to the edge. Elsie sat in my seat. My mom sat beside her. Owen across from them. The three of them laughing like they shared some secret, I sat at the far end of the table, trying to join in, but no one ever responded.”
She paused, her voice trembling. “You want to know the moment I lost all hope? Six years ago. There was a fire in the building. I had already gotten out safely. But Elsie ran back in, claiming she wanted to save me. She ended up passing out from the smoke. Owen rushed in and saw both of us. You know what he did? Not only did he choose to save Elsie, he yanked my gas mask off and strapped it on her face. Afterward, everyone blamed me–because saving me supposedly made Elsie’s asthma worse. She’s allergic to pollen, so my mom had dad’s rose tree chopped down. I tried to reason with Elsie, but she turned it around. She staged a scene, used angles to make it look like I was attacking her with a knife. My mom saw the truth and still sided with her, testified falsely.”
She was shaking now, tears falling in a steady stream.
“Owen had no idea. He said he didn’t want me to go to jail, so he forged a psychiatric diagnosis and sent me to a mental institution instead. Said it was for my own good. I was locked away for years, tortured. And all the while, Elsie took my place–my name, my records–and they called it kindness. Said I should be grateful. That she saved me from prison. Mr. Carl, tell me: Should I hate them? Am I not allowed to hate them?”
Tears covered Yunice’s face. Carl’s features had softened without him realizing it. A quiet sorrow had settled into his expression.
His throat tightened. After a long pause, he said hoarsely, “Silly girl… so you’ve finally said it.”
Yunice remained silent, the tears still falling.
Carl’s voice cracked. “If you never reach out, how can anyone help you?”
Yunice replied, “I reached out many times. But the hands I grabbed weren’t there to save me. They were just feet–pushing me deeper into the abyss.”