Chapter 7

Robert immediately understood and barked at the guards, "Did you hear him? Give her 30 lashes first, then drag her to the living room to kneel. She is not to rise until I permit it." "Let go! Robert, you're not my dad! You're a monster!" Eleanor struggled with all her strength, but the bodyguards held her tight. They dragged her into the living hall. Patricia held the sturdy whip, staring at Eleanor with a cruel satisfaction that made her blood run cold. "You're just like your dead mother, never knowing your place. Today, I'll make sure you learn your lesson for your father." Patricia sneered, raising the whip and lashing Eleanor across the back with all her strength. A burst of excruciating pain shot through her, and Eleanor's vision darkened. She clamped her teeth on her lip to stifle a scream. Blow after blow fell across her back. With each strike, Patricia unleashed years of pent-up rage, swinging as though she intended to strip Eleanor's flesh from her bones. Eleanor's body convulsed, cold sweat soaked her clothes, and her mind began to go hazy. Suddenly, memories of Alexander surged through her mind. He had known about her difficult relationship with Patricia and had once asked, "Do you want me to handle her?" She remembered slipping out alone to Elizabeth's grave in a foul mood and how he had somehow found her. In the pouring rain, he had taken off his coat to wrap her up and quietly driven her home. She recalled those small gestures of care he had shown, moments she had once mistaken for concern. Back when they were together, she wondered if he had ever thought he would one day be the one to push her into this living hell. A bitter taste rose in her throat. She coughed up a mouthful of blood and let out a low, mirthless laugh. Patricia's grin faltered, replaced by a furious glare. "What are you laughing at, you bitch?" Eleanor raised her sweat- and blood-streaked face, glaring fiercely at her, and hissed each word with venom. "I'm laughing at you and Amelia. You've spent a lifetime living off whatever scraps others leave behind!" "You!" Patricia trembled with rage, dropping the crop and barking at the household staff, "Go! Get me the stun baton!" "Mrs. Hayes! You can't do that! Ms. Hayes will die!" the older housekeeper cried. "Get out of my way! Who said you could talk?" Patricia shoved her aside, snatched the stun baton from a bodyguard, and slammed it into Eleanor with full force. A violent jolt of electricity ripped through her body. Eleanor heard the sickening snap of her ribs breaking and spewed a mouthful of blood. Darkness swallowed her completely. … When she came to, Eleanor realized she was in her own bed, and every inch of her body throbbed with pain, as if she had been flattened. Mary Wood, the housekeeper, gently cared for her injuries, dabbing at her tears as she whispered, "Ms. Hayes, please just yield to Mr. Hayes. Why put yourself through all this?" Eleanor shook her head weakly. "Yield? Do that to this family, and they'll chew me down to nothing." She paused, forcing a grim smile that was uglier than any cry. "It's just a beating. Amelia also got her head split open by me, so it's not a loss. I can take it." Then, Eleanor struggled to pull a bank card from under her pillow and handed it to Mary. "Mary, keep this." Startled, Mary quickly refused. "Ms. Hayes, you can't do that! How could I possibly accept your money?" "Take it," Eleanor said firmly. "I prepared this a long time ago. I am going abroad, and I probably will not be coming back. "You're one of the helpers my mom brought here from her family, and now that you're here, no one's going to treat you well. This money will be enough for you to live comfortably. Just listen to me—quit and leave this place." Mary held the thin card in her hand and looked at Eleanor, who lay in bed bruised and battered, yet still thinking of her despite everything. Tears streamed down her face, and with a thud, she dropped to her knees. Eleanor quickly tried to stop her. Her voice was weak but tinged with a hint of playfulness. "Mary, I kind of want some of your hearty chicken soup." "Alright, I'll start making it right away!" Mary wiped her tears hurriedly and rushed into the kitchen. The room fell silent again. Eleanor stared at the ornate yet cold ceiling, slowly closing her eyes as despair and sadness washed over her. For the next few days, she stayed in her room, tending to her injuries. She endured the pain and carefully packed all her belongings. She also went through every gift Alexander had ever given her. He didn't love her, but he had been generous. All the gifts together were worth almost 100 million dollars. At first, she had considered throwing them all away, but after a moment, she called the owner of a high-end club she frequented. She had heard the club was hosting a charity auction and told them she had some items she wanted to sell. They responded quickly and said there was an event that evening, and she was welcome to attend. As the evening fell, Eleanor arrived at the club with several large trunks. After handing the items to the auction coordinator, she turned and saw Alexander and Amelia walking together. Amelia leaned against Alexander, and when their eyes met, there was a flicker of pride and challenge in Amelia's expression. Eleanor's hand clenched reflexively, but she quickly relaxed it. She had business to attend to and no reason to waste her emotions on them. Alexander's gaze lingered on her pale face for a moment before looking away indifferently. Just as she sat down, the lights dimmed. The host stepped onto the stage and announced that, before the auction officially began, there would be a three-minute kissing segment for all couples present. Everyone was invited to participate. Eleanor froze. Spotlights moved across the dim room, illuminating couples in embrace. She turned instinctively and saw Amelia smiling as she wrapped her arms around Alexander's neck. Alexander looked down at her, and the corner of his lips lifted slightly. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. In that instant, Eleanor felt as if her chest had been squeezed by an invisible hand. Memories of her kisses with Alexander surged through her mind. Some had been passionate, some possessive, some filled with desire, but none had ever carried this quiet sense of being truly cherished. At that moment, a drunken young man stumbled over and slurred, "Ms. Hayes, it must be lonely all by yourself. Let me keep you company."