In my memories, my dad seemed to be in great pain and fear, To him, I appeared as some kind of terrifying monster.
These memories, which I had somehow entirely erased from my mind, had been selectively replaced with only happy ones.
âWendell⦠do we really have to send Stephie to a mental hospital?â
âIf we donât take action now, the situation could worsen later on. Imagine if she ends up killing someone.â
âStop! Donât even say that!â
âDo you recall the incident last month when your friend visited with her son, Michael? We had merely praised Michael and playfully brought up the topic of a childhood betrothal, and Stephie had Georgie intimidate him. Michael, whoâs just an eightâyearâold boy, was left traumatized by dogs, and he suffered a fever for several days.â
In the dim room, my parentsâ argumentative voices resounded. As I stood outside the room, their silhouettes before me sharpened my memories.
Indeed, 1 had been sent to a mental hospital.
I was only five years old at the time.
This was all before my encounter with Steven.
Reflecting on it, I remember my parents saying that I had used Georgie to frighten Michael because of my jealousy over the betrothal. Could that really be the reason he was scared of dogs? Was it all because of my actions?
âStephany!â
âStephany, are you okay?â
The wailing of sirens mixed with Zionâs frantic voice.
âStephie!â Rachel cried out.
I sat on the ground disoriented. Regaining my senses, I realized my dress was soaked in blood.
Stevie, a huge yellow wolfhound, lay dying before me. It looked just like my dog, Georgie, from my memories. Georgie, a black wolfhound, had a similar majestic presence to Stevie.
âStevie⦠Please donât die,â I pleaded. My voice quivered as I rushed to embrace the dog.
âQuick, to the hospital,â Zion hurriedly took the wolfhound from my arms. He used his clothes to staunch its bleeding.
Medical staff hurried over to check on me. Everyone was concerned that I might have been stabbed.
But to their astonishment, they found no injuries on me. âSheâs not hurt.â
Only then did Zion process the situation. He looked at the gasping assassin on the ground. Some of them managed to flee while others groaned in pain.
âIâve killed someoneâ¦â I trembled while staring at the fallen assassin before me.
âIt was selfâdefense. They were after your life.â Rachel cried while holding me tight.
Yet, I had no memory of how I had managed it.
I snapped back to reality and gripped Zionâs arm anxiously. âSteven⦠Steven fell off the cliff. Is he alrig alright?
Is he safe?â
Zion lowered his head and shook his head. âThe good news is, Steven wasnât found in the car. The bad news is, weâre not sure how heâs doing now. Rescue teams are still searching for him below the mountain.â
I staggered back and felt defeated.
Ewan hurried over in a flurry of panic. He gazed at the chaos around and clenched his fists. âMrs.
Lincoln⦠I never thought they would find you here.â
This place was supposed to be safe.
Stevenâs mishap had thrown everything into disarray.
But I held no blame toward him.
Mr. Ignatius is gone,â Ewan lowered his head.
I seemed to have anticipated this. Martin was ruthless. He was aiming to eliminate Steven and Ignatius, then me and my unborn child this time.
He did this all to seamlessly inherit everything from the Lincolns.
âFind Stevenâ¦â Be it he was dead or alive.
âMrs. Lincoln, donât you remember what you did after the accident?â Ewan asked tentatively.
I looked at Ewan with a mix of bewilderment and confusion in my eyes.