"Smack—"

Wilhelm Bennett’s large hand landed hard across Clara’s face.

It stung. Badly.

Her ears rang like crazy from the impact.

She could see Wilhelm mouthing words, but the ringing was so loud she couldn’t make out a single thing.

Still, his twisted, furious expression said it all—disappointment, disgust, rage.

Clara opened her mouth, trying to say something.

But the instant she did, the taste of blood filled her mouth.

Her gums were swollen, and the corner of her mouth had split open.

"Clara! Getting bold now, huh? How many damn times have I told you, stop taking things from your sister! Why can’t you just listen?!"

"You’ve had everything handed to you in this house for nineteen years—anything you wanted! Sophia had it tough outside for twenty-two years before finding her way back. Can’t you just let her have something for once?!"

Wilhelm was standing in front of Clara, towering over her. Next to him, Sophia Bennett was clinging tight to his arm, tears streaking her face like she was in some sad drama.

She sniffled, dabbing her weepy eyes as she chimed in with that fake-soft voice of hers.

“Dad, please don’t hit Clara anymore… If she likes it, she can have it. I… I don’t mind. As long as she’s willing to accept me, I’ll give her anything…”

Wilhelm’s face twisted with more fury at that.

He jabbed his finger right into Clara’s forehead. "Look at your sister! Then look at yourself! If you had even half of her kindness, I wouldn’t be losing my mind like this!"

With every poke, Clara staggered back a little more.

She didn’t stop until her back hit the cold wall—no more room to retreat—so she just stood there, silently taking it.

Her skin was pale and delicate, like milk, and just those few jabs had left angry red marks.

But compared to the bright crimson handprint burning on her cheek, that was nothing.

“Dad… I didn’t…” she tried to explain.

She hadn’t taken the shoes from Sophia.

She’d just come home from school when the housekeeper told her Wilhelm bought her new shoes for her birthday tomorrow. She’d only just tried them on.

She hadn’t even gotten the chance to stand up and see how they felt.

Then Sophia had come charging down the stairs, crying and whining, begging her not to take the shoes.

And before Clara could say anything…

Wilhelm came home from work and slapped her. No questions, no chance to explain.

“Didn’t, huh? Then what’s that on your feet?!” Wilhelm’s voice climbed again, clearly more pissed.

“Do you even realize today’s your sister’s birthday? You’re seriously gonna fight over her gift!? What is wrong with you?!”

“That’s it! If you can’t live under the same roof without making drama, then forget being the second daughter of this family—go to your grandpa’s! I don't want to see you!”

And with that, Wilhelm whipped his hand out and barked, "Mr. Carter, take her. Now.""Dad!" Clara finally couldn't hold back her tears anymore. She clutched tightly at Wilhelm Bennett's suit sleeve. "Please… don't kick me out..."

Wilhelm shook her off without a flicker of softness.

"Get lost. I don’t need a selfish, petty daughter like you."

In the end, Clara was dragged into the car by Mr. Carter.

"Uncle Carter… Why does no one like me anymore after Grandpa passed away?"

Why did Dad suddenly bring home a big sister?

Why doesn’t she like me? And why does Dad act like he can’t even stand me now?

Mr. Carter’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his expression dimming. He didn’t answer.

Clara leaned against the cold window, watching as the Bennett mansion grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Her eyes stung with tears—but she didn't even have the energy to cry anymore.

That slap earlier had her head spinning. Dazed, she just leaned there, and soon drifted off.

She didn’t even know where the car was taking her.

Traffic thinned, and the road stretched on. The sky suddenly darkened, thunder rumbling low in the distance. Heavy clouds loomed like they were about to burst.

Mr. Carter peeked at the rearview mirror, catching sight of the unconscious Clara in the backseat. Guilt twisted in his chest as he clenched the wheel tighter.

"Forgive me, young miss. I didn’t have a choice… Blame your half-sister."

When the car stopped, it was outside Qingshan Cemetery.

Clara’s grandfather’s house? Definitely not here.

But if Mr. Carter left her at the cemetery, he'd be paid handsomely.

Clara, still asleep, was dumped out of the car without ceremony.

Her head slammed onto the ground, and her hands scraped hard against the rough concrete, searing pain shooting up her arms.

“Ah!”

The pain yanked Clara out of her sleep. Before she could figure out what was happening, a folded umbrella was thrown onto her lap.

Then came Mr. Carter’s bitter voice, low and strained. “I’m sorry, miss…”

And just like that, he was gone.

A loud crack of thunder snapped Clara completely awake.

She struggled to push herself up and stumbled after the car.

But how could anyone catch up to a speeding car on foot?

The thunder turned to rain, the cold spring downpour drenching her instantly. Her loose clothes stuck to her thin frame.

She missed a step and fell, hitting the wet ground.

Her delicate features were soaked—tears or rain, even she couldn’t tell.

The pain all over her body wasn’t just physical—it drove the truth deep into her bones.

She’d been thrown away.

Kicked out by her own father.

Abandoned by Mr. Carter in this lonely cemetery.