My Stepbrother Sent Me to a Juvenile Detention Center Then Proposed

Chapter 3

I lost track of time until I realized he'd carried me into a room. The click of the door closing echoed, followed by heavy silence. He was gone.

Yanking the black coat off my head, I found myself in a warm-colored room. When the doorknob twisted, I scrambled up to thank my rescuer, only to freeze. Dylan stood there, his icy gaze stabbing at my chest, though that space was already riddled with wounds.

"Since when did you seduce the Carter family's treasured heir?" His voice simmered with rage.

"I didn't..."

"No?" He seized my chin, his fingers digging in like talons. "Look at you, full of surprises. That juvenile detention center really taught you tricks, didn't it?"

At the "juvenile detention center," my skull constricted like a vice. "No!" I choked out.

His grip tightened. "Let me check," he sneered, "if they really scrubbed those filthy thoughts from your head."

My pupils shrank to pinpricks. I shoved him away, hands flying to shield my face as I collapsed to my knees. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."

The door burst open. Victoria marched in with journalists in tow, transforming the cozy room into a spectacle for public shaming. The rest of that day dissolved into a blur of humiliation. Only one detail remained: me clutching that black coat like a lifeline through the night.

Victoria, unsatisfied, staged a lavish "welcome" farce. Her goal was obvious—to brand me before the crowd as a deranged, brother-obsessed freak.

That afternoon, a maid delivered a dress. "From Mr. Scott, Miss."

Back in my room, I unfolded the fabric and my heart stalled. There it was—the blue-and-white checkered dress my mom had loved most on me. The final living memory of her embrace. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender, just as it had when she'd last held me, resurrecting ghosts I'd thought long buried.

I'd searched for this dress for years, never dreaming Dylan had kept it all this time. And he'd preserved it in pristine condition, like a relic from another life.

Tears streamed down my face as I pressed trembling fingers to my lips. Something stirred in my numb chest, a storm of emotions I couldn't untangle.

Without hesitation, I slipped into the dress and boarded the glittering yacht. The moment I stepped onto the deck, a sea of designer gowns and judging eyes turned my way, their smirks sharper than diamond earrings.

"Told you she'd wear it," a voice sneered. "Victoria always knows."

My breath caught. What kind of game was this? Had Dylan and his wife set this whole thing up?

Of course. They were married now, two schemers sharing the same sheets, thick as thieves.

"Seems the Blake family's reform school didn't do its job," someone tittered.

"That press conference fooled us all, and she's still broken."

Their poisonous words made the world tilt sickeningly around me.

I couldn't believe Dylan would orchestrate this humiliation. Had he left me no scrap of mercy?

"Obsessed with her own brother-in-law? Revolting."

The taunts kept coming, their faces twisting into grotesque masks as nausea crawled up my spine like spiders.

Suddenly, the reformatory's ghost hands wrapped around my throat, and my knees hit the deck with a painful thud.

Through blurred vision, I saw Victoria clicking toward me on stiletto heels, crystal wine glass in hand, Dylan trailing behind like her shadow.

She looked down at me like something scraped off her designer shoe.

"Well, Dylan?" she cooed. "Your beloved sister. Disgusting little freak. No wonder three years couldn't cure her."

I lurched upright like a wounded animal, desperate to escape...

Crack! A rogue wave slammed into the yacht, sending me flying toward the railing.

"Lily!"

Dylan's shout tore through the wind as his hand clamped my wrist, his nails drawing blood as they bit into my skin.

When I looked up, I saw undisguised torment in his eyes. 'What right do you have to grieve, Dylan? Wouldn't you be thrilled if I died?'

"Lily, grab my hand!" I looked up at him, mustering the brightest smile I could.

"Dylan, in the next life, let's never cross paths again. I'm so tired. I'm done loving you."

His face went slack, stunned into silence.

Seizing his dazed moment, I tore myself free, falling like a stone into the raging water below.

The dark water closed over me, dragging me under. Dylan's face grew distant, fading into the blur above.

Then a flash of light cut through the water. A hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me into someone's arms before everything went black.