Ever since Haelyn moved into the room next to the master bedroom, the atmosphere in the house had turned into an invisible battlefield, where Seren was always the loser before the battle even began.
Seren stood in the kitchen, her still-weak hands trying to lift the ceramic pot of milk she had just heated. According to Beatrice's instructions, Haelyn had to drink warm milk at exactly seven in the morning. Not a minute late. Mark, who usually left for work this early, was surprisingly still sitting in the dining room, sipping his black coffee while reading a business report on his tablet. Mark's presence there created additional pressure for Seren.
"Seren, where's the milk? Haelyn is waiting," Mark's voice sounded impatient. He didn't even look up from his screen.
Seren took a deep breath, trying to stabilize her heartbeat, which was racing again. She stepped out of the kitchen into the dining room with a tray in her hands. There, Haelyn sat elegantly, wearing a soft pink silk nightgown. She looked fresh, in contrast to Seren, who seemed like a shadow in her own home.
"Sorry, Mark. Here's the milk," Seren said softly.
She approached Haelyn. As Seren was about to place the crystal glass filled with hot milk in front of Haelyn, she felt Haelyn's sharp gaze. Haelyn smiled slightly, a smile that only Seren could see. As Seren's fingers began to release the glass onto the table, Haelyn suddenly reached out her hand with a movement that seemed as if she wanted to help take the glass.
However, instead of grabbing the handle, Haelyn's fingers touched the bottom of the glass with a strong and deliberate jerk.
Crash!
The glass tipped over. The white liquid, still emitting hot steam, spilled out, flowing rapidly from the marble table and hitting Seren's hand, which she didn't have time to move away. Seren's white, thin skin immediately turned bright red. The burning sensation pierced her nerves, causing Seren to reflexively drop the tray she was holding, causing a loud noise.
"Aakh!" Seren screamed softly, holding her now blistered hand.
"Oh my God! Seren, I'm sorry! I just wanted to help!" Haelyn exclaimed in a feigned panic. She immediately stood up, moving away from the spilled milk, which hadn't actually touched her expensive dress. "I didn't mean to, really!"
Mark jumped up from his seat. He didn't look at Seren's reddened hand. His eyes immediately fixed on Haelyn, who was trembling with fear. Mark quickly stepped forward, pulling Haelyn into his embrace, as if she were the one who had just been injured.
"Are you okay, Haelyn? Did something hit your skin?" Mark asked with a very concerned tone. His hand gently rubbed Haelyn's shoulder.
"I'm fine, Mark... I just got really scared. I just wanted to help Seren so she wouldn't get too tired, but..." Haelyn looked down, her eyes starting to well up.
Mark then turned around. His previously gentle gaze instantly turned as cold as ice when it fell on Seren. Anger flashed in his dark eyes.
"Seren! What are you doing?!" Mark snapped. His voice boomed in the quiet dining room. "How many times do I have to tell you to serve guests properly! You can't even hold a glass properly?"
Seren looked up, her eyes teary as she endured the intense pain in her hand. "Mark... he bumped into the glass. My hand... my hand is burned."
Mark snorted harshly. "Don't try to frame Haelyn to cover up your own carelessness. I saw your hand shaking earlier. If you feel too weak to even pour milk, you should have said so, instead of endangering others!"
"But Mark, look at my hand—"
"Enough!" Mark cut Seren off rudely. "I don't care about your reasons. Haelyn is pregnant, she shouldn't be startled by commotion like this. You're completely useless. You're just a burden and a troublemaker in this house."
Mark turned back to Haelyn, his voice softening again. "Let's go to the living room. Let the servants clean up this mess. I don't want you smelling this spilled milk any longer."
Mark led Haelyn away, leaving Seren standing alone next to the dirty dining table. Seren's hand throbbed violently, the heat spreading to her shoulder. She stared at her husband's retreating back without a single word of sympathy. In Mark's eyes, Seren's physical injuries were not as important as Haelyn's emotional comfort.
Beatrice entered the dining room shortly after, hearing the commotion. She saw Seren's reddened hands, but instead of helping, she snorted in annoyance.
"You're really embarrassing, Seren. Mark is right, you only know how to ruin the mood. Clean this floor immediately before the milk dries and leaves a smell. And don't you dare complain to Mark again about your hand. You were careless, you have to bear the consequences yourself."
Beatrice walked away following Mark and Haelyn. Seren knelt on the floor, trying to pick up the rag with her injured hand. Her tears fell one by one, mixing with the spilled milk on the floor. She felt that it wasn't just her hand that had been burned that morning, but also the remnants of her dignity as a wife, which was now gone.
Seren knelt down and wiped up the milk, which was now starting to stick. The back of her hand, which was badly blistered, continued to throb, sending waves of heat to her heart. Every time the rag rubbed against her wounded skin, Seren had to bite her lower lip hard to keep her cries of pain from bursting out.
From the living room, Haelyn's soft laughter sounded melodious, followed by Mark's attentive baritone voice. They were discussing the decoration of the baby's room as if Seren did not exist.
Seren tried to stand up, but her head suddenly spun. The effects of Beatrice's medicine—which she now suspected was not just vitamins—made her vision blurry. The world around her seemed to sway. She staggered, her injured hand accidentally resting on the sharp edge of the table.
"Ah..." Seren moaned softly. She looked at her hand. The blistered skin had now broken, releasing a clear liquid mixed with blood.
She limped toward the kitchen, intending to rinse her wound with running water. However, right at the kitchen door, she bumped into Mark, who was about to grab a bottle of mineral water. Mark stopped, his eyes fixed on Seren's trembling hand, wet with milk and blood.
Seren looked at Mark with pleading eyes. "Mark... my hand really hurts. Can you help me get the first aid kit?"
Mark stared at the wound for a few seconds. There was a strange glint in his eyes—perhaps a hint of sympathy—but it was quickly replaced by arrogance. He remembered his mother's words from last night that Seren was a drama queen who would do anything to distract him from Haelyn.
"Just use water, Seren. Don't be so spoiled," Mark said coldly. He walked past Seren. "Haelyn wants to eat a pear. Peel it now and bring it to the living room. Don't let there be any bloodstains on her plate, or I won't hesitate to throw you out of this house tonight."
Seren froze. Mark had truly lost his conscience.
Breathing heavily, Seren grabbed the kitchen knife. Her hands trembled violently as she touched the rough skin of the pear. Every movement of her fingers triggered excruciating pain. Blood from her wound began to seep out, dripping slowly onto the wooden cutting board. Seren kept trying to wipe it away with a tissue, afraid that even a single drop would catch Mark's sharp eye.
Suddenly, the roaring sound in her ears returned. Louder than usual. Seren's vision darkened at the edges, leaving a small hole in the center of her vision.
"Seren! Where's the pear? Why is it taking so long?!" Mark shouted from the living room.
Seren tried to speed up her movements, but an overwhelming dizziness hit her brain. The knife in her hand slipped.
Sret!
The sharp knife cut her other palm. Seren didn't scream. She was too weak to make a sound. She just stared at the fresh blood that was now flowing profusely, soaking the white pear until it turned dark red.
At the same time, the front doorbell rang brutally—being pressed continuously without stopping.
"Who's visiting this early?" Beatrice muttered as she stepped out of her room.
Mark walked toward the front door with an annoyed expression. As soon as the door opened, a man dressed in all black with a face that looked exactly like Seren's was standing there. His eyes burned with anger, and in his hand he held a document with the Sterling Group logo.
"Where's my sister?!" the man's voice boomed, causing Mark to take a step back.
Seren, who was in the kitchen, heard the voice. A name suddenly popped into her foggy head.
Seren's heart was pounding, the pain reaching its peak. She tried to step out of the kitchen, but her foot got caught on the water heater cable. Her body fell forward, and her head hit the corner of the marble table hard.
"SEREN!" Mark shouted as he saw his wife lying motionless on the kitchen floor, blood pooling around the pear beside her.
The man at the front door, roughly pushing Beatrick aside, ran toward the kitchen. However, before he could reach it, Mark blocked his path, grabbing the collar of his shirt.
"Who are you?! How dare you enter my house!" Mark barked.