Chapter 6
I graduated from Harvard with a PhD at 22. But what did any of that matter? In their eyes, I’d never measure up to
Sienna.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and went back to our room, planning to talk to Damien about divorce.
Just as I was about to speak, Sienna knocked and came in: “Damien, are you here? I don’t feel well…”
Damien immediately stood up: “Sienna, what’s wrong?”
Sienna put on her pitiful act: “I can’t sleep. That room–the bed’s too close to the window, and I’m scared… Noah says he wants to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. He says your room is bigger…”
Sienna’s excuse was pathetically transparent.
Damien looked at me awkwardly.
I laughed coldly. Testing me? Or making a power play?
Damien said to me: “Brooklyn, how about we switch rooms? Sienna gets scared easily.”
I looked at him calmly: “Sure. Let’s switch.”
I got up to leave as Sienna immediately smiled smugly: “Thank you, Brooklyn! You’re so sweet!”
I went to the guest room and lay in bed, unable to sleep.
I got up, thinking I’d grab something from the kitchen. Passing by the bedroom, I heard strange sounds coming from inside. The door wasn’t fully closed.
I instinctively stopped and peered through the crack.
Sienna was sitting on the bed with Damien standing in front of her.
Sienna was being all coy: “Damien, my chest feels so tight and uncomfortable. Could you massage it for me?”
Damien hesitated: “Sienna, that’s… not really appropriate.”
Sienna pouted: “What’s inappropriate about it? You’re not some stranger. The expert said that regular breast massage prevents cancer. She also said you should use your lips to check… Damien, could you examine me? I’m scared…”
Damien’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes darting away.
Seeing his hesitation, Sienna grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest: “Damien, please help me…”
16:51
Eight Miscarriages Later, 1 Discovered His Sick Plan
Chapter 6
Damien’s body visibly tensed. But in the end, he didn’t pull away. He leaned down…
I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and left, feeling sick to my stomach.
I ran to the kitchen and put on some soup, boiled water for coffee. When the water started boiling, I spaced out.
Suddenly, ice cold liquid poured over my head.
“Ah!” I shrieked. It was milk–recking with a horrible stench.
A wad of tissues was shoved into my mouth.
It was Sienna. She stood behind me, grinning wickedly: “Brooklyn, surprised? Disgusted? Let me tell you–that milk has some special ‘extras‘ in it! All your husband’s ‘essence‘! These tissues are ones we used too! How’s that taste?”
She leaned close to my ear: “You think you’re still Mrs. Hawthorne? Dream on! You’re nothing but a breeding tool! A failed breeding tool! Your kid got used up for all he was worth and tossed in the trash! What right do you have to stay here?”
She pulled out her phone and played a video: “Look at this–your son’s ‘final moments‘ in the ICU. So pitiful, tubes stuck all over his body…”
In the video, Lucas was skin and bones, barely clinging to life. My heart clenched so tight I could barely breathe.
Sienna opened more photos: “Look at this–your son after they harvested his organs. So ‘clean‘–like an empty shell…”
The photos showed Lucas’s mutilated body. I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.
Noah suddenly burst in, pointing at me and shouting: “Bad woman! You’re bullying my mommy! Your son totally deserved to die!”
I finally snapped and shoved Sienna away: “Get the hell away from me!”
But Sienna let out a shriek and knocked over the pot of boiling soup. The scalding liquid barely splashed her hand.
‘AHHH!” she screamed.
Damien came running in: “What happened?!”
10:51
