From the moment I became aware of my surroundings, I watched an incompetent man inflict violence on my mother, who bore it all without resistance, powerless to defend herself. Even as a child, instinct drove me to protect her. I stepped forward to intervene, only to be shoved into a cabinet, my spine slamming painfully against its edge. Witnessing this, my mother—silent and submissive until that moment—transformed into a fierce protector, like a mother wolf baring her claws and teeth at her aggressor.
But how could an ordinary mother wolf stand a chance against a seasoned alpha? Her fragile façade was shattered in an instant, and the merciless alpha struck her down without remorse. Helpless, she howled in anguish while her injured cub could do nothing but watch in agony as his mother endured her torment.
The man only stopped when my mother was half-dead, all because she had tried to stop him from gambling. Incidents like these became routine. As long as life went on and time moved forward, so too did these dreary, nightmare-like days.
What I couldn't understand was how my mother endured it—how she could continue living under the same roof as him.
He paused, his voice trembling. His eyes met mine, brimming with unshed tears, while mine were filled with sorrow and rage. I gently placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly, trying to console him.
"Perhaps your mother had reasons we can't understand," I said, offering only my thoughts.
He nodded faintly and continued.
"Eventually, my mother could no longer bear this life. When I was ten, she passed away. On that day, the only person in the world who shared my blood vanished forever. In the moment of her departure, I couldn't even grasp what I felt. I was lost—confused and empty. At her funeral, I didn't shed a single tear. People called me cold-hearted, detached. But in this living hell, what kind of person could I have possibly become?"
"After she passed, she left me a letter, but I never saw it. That man found it first. She had hidden it in my room, tucked away in a drawer, but he seemed to know exactly where to look. Like a madman, he tore through my room until he uncovered it. The letter was about this house."
"This house had belonged to my grandparents. They had passed it on to my mother long before she married him, transferring ownership solely to her. My grandparents died young, leaving my mother their only heir. Had they lived, they would never have allowed their cherished daughter to marry such a beast—one who was all show and no substance."
"In the letter, she revealed that the key to this house was hidden in a place only the two of us knew. She seemed to anticipate what that man might do, so she didn't specify the location. She also wrote that the property had already been signed over to me and that, when I came of age, someone would deliver the transfer documents to me."
"When I was ten, that man began hearing rumors—whispers that I didn't look like him. Consumed by suspicion, he took me to the hospital for a paternity test. The results? Exactly as he feared: I wasn't his child. In that moment, I felt a strange sense of relief. I was glad not to share blood with this monster."
"After the test, his hatred for me reached its peak. But he didn't abandon me. No, he kept me around—to be his punching bag. Whenever he lost money gambling or suffered some humiliation, he took it out on me. Of course, there was another reason he didn't cast me aside—this house."
He paused, parched, and glanced around. This old, decrepit house lacked even basic amenities. I remembered the water bottle in my bag and handed it to him. He accepted it, unscrewed the cap, and drank deeply.
After finishing, he resumed.
"All these years, I endured. You're probably wondering why I never fought back, right? To be honest, I couldn't win. You can't fight an adult man when you're just a kid. Besides, I didn't want fleeting revenge—I wanted something far greater. I wanted him to suffer in prison for the rest of his life, living like a rat in the shadows, filled with regret."
His voice grew colder, his eyes sharp and unrelenting. Hatred seeped into every word, deep and chilling.
"And he will. I'll make sure of it."
"Shen Jia, do you understand?"
His gaze was profound, a swirl of naked resentment, enduring pain, and an unreadable depth of emotion.