Angel from Hell

Chapter 3 He's a Monster

Dorothy's POV:

I lifted my head, looking at the man descending the stairs from the second floor. My hands trembled uncontrollably at my sides.

It was Richard, my stepfather. To the outside world, he was a doting husband, a gentleman who cherished his family.

But to me, he was a monster who had sold his soul to the devil.

That summer night eight years ago, my mother had gone out for a walk with the maid, and Katherine was out at a friend's party.

The vast estate was eerily quiet, with only the occasional chirp of a cicada breaking the silence.

I was in my room, working on a sociology assignment. I had just transferred to a new school, and the eighth-grade workload was overwhelming.

"The commander at the Battle of Manassas was Irvin McDowell, not George Meade."

Richard's voice suddenly cut through the silence behind me. My hand jerked, and the pen left a black streak across my paper.

"I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

Richard's hand rested on my shoulder, mimicking the concern of a loving father.

"You didn't knock," I said cautiously, "I wasn't expecting anyone in my room."

"You didn't come downstairs, so I came to check on you." Richard smiled warmly, sitting down beside me. He asked with concern, "How's your schoolwork? Is it tough?"

At that moment, I thought he was just a father trying to bond with his stepdaughter, so I didn't suspect a thing.

But soon, his hand slid up my thigh, inching toward places it should never go.

I was paralyzed with fear, too stunned to fight back.

By the time I realized what was happening, his hand was already at the edge of my underwear.

"Get away from me!"

I screamed, using every ounce of strength I had to push his hand away.

"Shh, quiet now," Richard whispered, covering my mouth with his hand, his voice dripping with malice. "The louder you scream, the more excited I get."

I burst into tears, sobbing so hard the tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

Just as Richard was about to take things further, the sound of the front door opening echoed from downstairs.

My mother had finally come home.

Richard quickly straightened my clothes, his calm demeanor returning as if nothing had happened.

"Keep quiet, sweetheart. If your mother finds out you've been seducing your stepfather, what do you think she'll do?"

For my mother's sake, I swallowed all the humiliation and rage.

Ever since my father's incident, my mother and I had barely left the house.

If we dared to step outside, we were met with relentless questions, accusations, and threats from everyone who wished we were dead.

My father had already taken his own life, using his death as a penance for the victims of the collapsed bridge.

The anger of the victims' families had nowhere to go, so they directed it all at my mother and me.

Reporters with no scruples camped outside our door 24/7, eager to uncover more scandalous details.

My once elegant mother hid in her bedroom all day, drawing the heavy curtains to shut out the outside world, trembling like a frightened swan.

It was during those darkest times that Richard Sunite appeared, saving my mother and me.

He released the bridge's blueprints, admitted that data flaws had led to the collapse, and proposed a compensation plan so costly it nearly bankrupted the Sunite Group.

I was grateful to him, and even idolized him for a time until that summer night.

For eight long years, I've lived in fear every single day.

I once tried to seek help from my mother, hinting that Richard had done something inappropriate to me.

But my mother harshly scolded me, "How could I have a daughter like you, doubting your own stepfather? If it weren't for Richard, we would have been driven to our deaths by now. You can't even show basic gratitude. You've truly disappointed me."

On countless sleepless nights after that, I could only cling to our family photo, crying silently.

In the picture, the three of us were all smiling so happily. But now... The happier I was back then, the more disappointed I feel now.

My father always said that the woman he loved most in this world was my mother, and the second was his darling daughter.

But after my father's death, before a hundred days had passed, the woman he loved most remarried Richard.

After the remarriage, my mother became a different person.

I could understand her gratitude toward Richard, but as his wife, she should have known my father better than anyone. Even if the whole world condemned him, she should have stood by him and believed in him.

After all, they had shared twenty years of marriage...

I hated Richard, I hated Katherine, and I hated every single person in the Sunite family.

Even though Richard always took my side in conflicts with Katherine, I could never forget the disgusting feeling of his gaze lingering on my body.

Just like now, even though he saw me slap Katherine, his first reaction was to rush over to me, asking with concern, "Dorothy, are you hurt?"

I yanked my hand away, glaring coldly at him. "Don't touch me. Save your hypocrisy, Richard. You make me sick."

"You shameless b***h! How dare you insult my father!" Katherine shrieked.

She scrambled to her feet, lunging at me with both hands, her fingers digging into my neck.

Her sharp nails scratched my skin, and blood trickled down my pale neck.

Richard shoved her off me, pressing his hand to my wound, shouting for the maid, "Polly, bring the first aid kit!"

"Don't touch me!" I shoved his hand away, recoiling from his touch like I'd been burned.

Richard looked at me, hurt in his eyes, anger flashing through them before it quickly turned into worry.

Before I could react, a sudden slap landed on my face, knocking me to the side.

I stared in shock at the person who had struck me. "Mom..."

My mother pointed at me, her voice filled with venom. "Don't call me Mom. I don't have such an ungrateful daughter."

I was so stunned that I couldn't even close my mouth. "Ungrateful?"

"I heard everything you just said, Dorothy. All these years, Richard has treated you better than his own daughter, and Katherine has treated you like a real sister. And what do you do? Instead of showing gratitude, you seduced your sister's fiancé. You know how much Katherine cares about Vincent, yet you still did this. How could I have raised such an ungrateful monster?"

Listening to my own mother say those words, I instinctively stepped back, putting some distance between us.

Over the years, my mother had never defended my father and me the way she defended Richard.

Then, I thought of the design plans I found yesterday morning in the room at the end of the basement.

The original blueprint's data flashed in my mind, overlapping with the altered data from the plans Richard had released six years ago.

My father's face, twisted in pain and despair, merged with Richard's dark, deceitful face in my mind.

The more I thought, the more I trembled uncontrollably.

Since Richard had sacrificed almost everything to clean up the bridge disaster, I had never suspected him.

But now, a terrifying thought began to take root in my mind.

Could the person who framed my father have been right by my side all along?