Drowning in Memories

Chapter 7 Being Thrown into the Pool

Clara froze for a moment, then burst into hysterical laughter.

She laughed at herself for saving Matthew, only to end up with a crippled leg and half her life ruined.

She laughed at how she had given her all to Matthew over the years, yet never earned an ounce of his genuine affection.

Numb with despair, Clara wiped her tear-streaked face. Her bloodshot eyes blazed as she slapped Ivy hard across the cheek.

A loud c***k echoed through the room.

Ivy stumbled to the floor, her cheek swelling grotesquely.

"You hit me?! Matthew has never even laid a finger on me since I was a child! What makes you think you can do that, Clara? Guys, tie her up and throw her in the pool!"

Ivy glanced smugly at her entourage, eager to watch Clara be humiliated.

When the bodyguards hesitated, she stepped forward and slapped each of them across the face.

"Know your place! I'm Matthew's aunt! Who the hell do you think matters more here?"

Stunned by Ivy's slaps, the bodyguards lunged at Clara and dragged her roughly toward the pool.

Her freshly stitched wounds tore open again, leaving a trail of bright red footprints across the marble floor.

Even the searing physical pain felt trivial compared to the agony tearing her heart apart.

At that moment, she finally saw the truth clearly—everyone around her had long known about Matthew's undying love for Ivy. She alone had been blind, foolishly clinging to the lie that he could never love someone wholeheartedly.

She had clung to the tiniest spark of hope, begging for just a small part of his heart, doing every foolish, selfless thing imaginable… only for those hopes to turn into sharp arrows, piercing her chest one by one.

How utterly stupid she had been. How painfully naive. She had given him everything, yet gained nothing but betrayal and ruin.

Tears streamed down her face like a downpour as she shook her head in silent despair—until a rough, calloused hand clamped tightly over her mouth, smothering all her screams.

A loud splash rang out in the yard as Clara was thrown violently into the icy water.

She thrashed wildly, her whole body convulsing with primal terror. Matthew knew better than anyone how terrified she was of water—how even a single drop on her skin would make her shake uncontrollably.

There had never even been a bathtub in their home. This luxurious pool had been built solely on Matthew's orders.

And now she understood the cruel truth: it had always been for Ivy, who loved swimming. Just another lavish gift for the woman he truly loved.

Rough hands pushed her head under the water again and again. Frigid water flooded her nose, burning her throat and eyes, until suffocating darkness closed in around her.

"H-help… I c-can't swim—"

By the poolside, Ivy watched Clara's desperate, dying struggles with obvious glee, a cold smirk twisting her lips.

"Serves you right! Keep her under—don't let her come up for air."

Every time Clara managed to gasp for air, the bodyguards forced her back down. Once, twice… until the hundred and eighth time, when all her strength was gone.

Her reopened wounds had already stained a large patch of the pool water a deep, eerie red. Just as she accepted that she was going to die, she saw Ivy make a video call to Matthew, her voice sickly sweet and full of fake grievance. "Matthew, look what Clara did to me! My cheek hurts so much!"

Matthew's face twisted with discomfort, his brows furrowing sharply. "What happened? I told you to stay in my room."

Clara let out a bitter, hollow laugh underwater. So his so-called "punishment" had always been a farce—sending Ivy "abroad" was nothing more than locking her in his bedroom, a luxury, not a penalty.

As her last bit of strength faded and she slowly sank to the cold bottom of the pool, Ivy's cloying, fake pitiful whines echoed in her ears.

"She hurt me. Matthew—why are you blaming me instead of her?"

Matthew glanced at the motionless figure floating underwater, her breath long gone.

His hand twitched instinctively, and he almost ordered the guards to pull her out at once—but then he met Ivy's pleading, accusing gaze. After a heavy, suffocating pause, he murmured in a cold, indifferent tone, "Whatever makes you happy. Nothing else matters."