Page 121 of Cruel Deception
“She hit every step on the way down, landed twisted and gasping at the bottom. Her ribs were cracked. She couldn’t even scream.”
Elodie paused, her eyes glossed with tears.
“Cassian was at the bottom of the stairs already—he was folding laundry for her, helping her with chores. He saw it all. He dropped the basket, ran to her side, crying, trying to shield her.”
I gripped the edge of the bed.
“But when Father came storming down, Cassian stood in front of her. He actually stood between them, arms out, saying,‘Please don’t touch her again.’” She choked on the words. “And our father—he didn’t hesitate. He kicked Cassian in the chest. Hard. Sent him flying into the wall.”
My heart split.
“He hit the wall and crumpled beside her, sobbing, his arm limp and twisted. Jade pulled him into her, despite her own injuries, curled her body around his like a shield. Blood on the floor. Bruises everywhere. But they held each other.”
She exhaled a shaky breath.
“And at the top of the stairs, your mother stood beside our father. Watching. Unmoved. Like it was a punishment well-deserved.”
I was shaking. “No...”
Elodie nodded. “That wasn’t even the worst part. One night, Seraphina dared our father—during a sick truth-or-dare game—to make Jade wear iron chains while doing chores. Said she’d be ‘more useful that way.’ And he agreed. Said it was a simple dare.”
She looked at me, eyes glossy. “My mother... wore chains. Like a dog. In her own home. With Cassian as her only witness. He was nine. Nine, Charlotte. And the only thing he could do was walk beside her, try to carry her tray so she wouldn’t collapse.”
Tears blurred my vision. “My mother... my mother did that?”
Elodie nods, her expression tight, rage flickering behind her eyes.
Her voice broke. “One time, Seraphina caught Cassian helping our mother wash the floor—her arms too weak to scrub. Seraphina walked in, spat at him, then slapped him so hard he fell into the bucket. Water everywhere. He hit his head. Jade crawled to him, but Seraphina made her lick the spilled soup from the floor first, while Cassian lay there crying.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat felt like it was closing.
“Jade worked,” Elodie said quietly. “Day and night. Chained. Humiliated. Made to scrub floors on her knees while Cassian—only nine—followed behind her with a trembling cup of water, wiping her tears with the edge of his sleeve. His hands were so small. Always shaking.”
The image crushed me.
“Every time your mother left for your father’s house, we breathed easier,” she went on, her voice growing harder now. Bitter. “But when she returned to ours—as our father’s mistress—it became hell all over again. Her perfume would hit the hallway, and we’d all brace ourselves for another storm.”
I gasped, my hand pressed to my chest. I wanted to argue, to deny, to say no, my mother couldn’t have done those things. But deep down, I already knew.
“Your mother used to slap Cassian every time he crossed her path,” Elodie said quietly, voice trembling with memory. “Her rings would cut into his face. He still has the scars.”
My breath caught. The faint scar at his temple—was that one of them?
“Once,” she continues, “he was alone, fetching firewood behind the house. She cornered him. Kicked his ribs again and again until he coughed blood. Called him a brat for existing.”
My breath hitches.
“Another time, he was helping our mother scrub the floors. Jade was in chains—yes, chains, like a prisoner. He tried to sneak her a piece of bread. Seraphina caught him. She whipped Jade’s hands with a cane. Then turned on Cassian. Struck his back again and again until it bled. The welts didn’t heal for days. Jade was screaming, begging her to stop. Seraphina kicked her in the stomach so hard she doubled over. And she laughed.
I cover my mouth. My heart cracks open. My mother—my mother—did that.
To him.
To a child.
Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. My chest aches in places I didn’t know could feel pain.
I covered my mouth with both hands, trembling. “No. No, she wouldn’t...”
