Chapter 9
“Which one do you like?” Lucian asked.
I looked over the rings on display, immediately spotting the priciest
one.
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“That one,” I said, pointing directly at it.
The staff, who wore white gloves, took the ring and gently slid it onto my finger.
The large diamond sparkled under the lights.
么
Lucian smiled and asked eagerly, “Do you like it?”
I gave a simple nod.
The staff then helped him try on the men’s ring.
Lucian grabbed my hand, fingers lacing with mine, and his face lit up with excitement.
I pulled away coldly. “Go pay.”
He didn’t seem upset. He smiled again and pulled out his phone to make the payment.
As we were about to head over to check out wedding gowns, his phone
buzzed.
He looked at the screen, frowned, and said, “I need to take this call.”
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Chapter 9
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“Hmm.”
He stepped away quickly. Even though he tried to whisper, his words were still clear to me.
“What? Elaine is trying to kill herself? I’m coming right now!”
Lucian ended the call and rushed out of the mall, not even glancing back at me.
I stood at the door of the jewelry store, watching without any emotion as he left me behind to find Elaine.
I lifted my hand to stare at the ring I held. Then, I turned around and headed to a high–end resale store.
When I arrived home, my maid was in the middle of helping Elaine pack.
She looked awkward when she saw me and tried to hide the suitcase
behind her.
“What is this for?” I asked.
She answered stiffly, “Ms. Elaine isn’t feeling well, and Mr. Ferguson doesn’t want to leave her alone. He asked her to stay at his place, so he could look after her himself.”
I sneered and returned to my room.
At dinner, I had just taken my seat when my father muttered with sarcasm, “How did we raise such a heartless daughter?”
My mother looked upset. “Your sister’s hand was injured, and you didn’t even ask how she was. And now you sit here like nothing
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happened?”
“What do you want me to do? Should I go nurse her back to health? I
can.”
They couldn’t say a word.
That night’s meal left them both deeply uncomfortable.
Later that night, I entered their bedroom with a just–slaughtered chicken and a kitchen knife. I sat down by the vanity.
The chicken’s feathers were still on, and its blood was warm.
I dipped my fingers in the blood and touched them to my lips. Then, I started chopping the chicken into pieces.
The loud thuds echoed through the room. The noise woke them.
“Raina?”
I slowly turned, holding the knife.
Looking at them with a twisted gaze, I said, “Dad, Mom, I’m starving…”
My mother screamed and passed out.
My father clutched his chest, pale with fear.
I smiled with the chicken in my arms, looking deranged.
“Want a late–night snack with me?”
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