The Devils Claim

Chapter 16 A Daughter’s Defiance

Julian stormed into the mansion, his face twisted with fury, veins bulging across his forehead. He could barely contain his rage as he barked, “Dad, I’ll go and snatch that little wretch back right now!”

Maxwell Sinclair, slumped on the couch, merely waved a hand in dismissal. His once-imposing figure now looked worn, aged overnight by the weight of betrayal. The loss of his eldest daughter, Serena, had been a cruel enough blow. But now, his youngest—his least favored child—had stolen Serena’s husband.

The disgrace. The utter humiliation.

His breath came out in ragged gasps as his trembling fingers traced over a framed photo of Serena. “Serena, look at this… The little sister you always protected and cherished has mercilessly taken everything from you. She even stole the man you loved…”

Julian, watching his father’s grief, felt a fire ignite in his chest. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white before he slammed them down onto the desk.

"The people women give birth to are just like them! Her mother was a vixen, and so is she!"

At those words, Maxwell’s sorrow deepened, carving harsh lines across his aging face. The daughter he had been so proud of was gone, and in her place stood a disgrace.

At that moment, Mother Lane entered the room, bowing respectfully before speaking.

"Master, Young Master, the Third Miss has returned."

Julian instantly shot up from the sofa, turning to her with sharp eyes. “Mother Lane, this is none of your concern. Leave us.”

Mother Lane hesitated. Her gaze flickered between Maxwell’s seething rage and Julian’s barely contained fury before sighing softly. With a shake of her head, she stepped aside just as Katherine entered.

She walked in slowly, acutely aware of the disgust in their eyes.

Their hatred burned through her like an unforgiving fire.

But she did not cower.

Without a word, she dropped to her knees before Maxwell. Her voice was steady, devoid of fear. "Do whatever you want. There’s no room for me to explain anymore, no chance for me to defend myself."

Maxwell let out a cruel, scornful laugh. "Explain? What is there to explain? Don't you dare tell me you couldn't help who you fell in love with. Katherine, you are no different from your mother!"

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped Katherine’s lips. She lifted her chin, meeting his glare without wavering.

"Maxwell, you knew exactly what my mother was like, yet you branded her a seductress. People say, 'One day as husband and wife means a hundred days of grace,' but you beat her to death right after she gave birth to me. Do you feel no remorse at all? Even after her death, you continue to slander her?"

Maxwell’s expression darkened. “She got exactly what she deserved. Did she think that giving birth to a bastard would allow her to climb the ranks? Foolish, wishful thinking! And you—” He spat the words like venom. "If not for Serena’s constant pleas, do you think I would have ever acknowledged you as a Sinclair?!"

Katherine’s lips curled into a smirk—one of scorn, one of defiance.

"Then why don’t you do to me what you did to my mother?" Her voice rang out, laced with mockery. "Beat me to death! That way, you won’t have to be ashamed of me anymore."

"Dad!" Julian growled, his patience snapping. "There’s no point wasting words on this little vixen! If you don’t teach her a lesson now, she’ll continue to disgrace our family!"

Disgrace?

Katherine almost laughed again. Who was disgracing whom?

Julian’s fists clenched at his sides as he glared at her. The very idea that she had not only failed to seduce her brother-in-law but had now married him—it was beyond comprehension.

And Leon… what was he thinking? That man, known for his ruthless precision in business, had actually…

Maxwell inhaled deeply before turning to Julian. His voice, though weary, was unwavering. “Fetch the family disciplinary cane. This unfilial daughter must be taught a lesson today.”

The command was absolute.

Julian didn’t hesitate. He strode to the altar, retrieving the rattan cane—a relic of the Sinclair family's strict traditions.

He handed it to Maxwell.

Katherine stared at the cane, the instrument of punishment she had grown all too familiar with.

Not even a blink. Not even a flinch.

She simply lifted her chin, waiting.