For two relentless weeks, Kyle Lawrence had kept you imprisoned in a cold, dark room. Every day, he came in, determined to make you suffer. In his mind, you were the spoiled, precious daughter of Zean Aelfric, the man who had ruined his life.

The bruises on your body were nothing compared to those you had lived with for years, inflicted not only by your father’s cruelty but by his neglect.

Then came the fire.

It spread quickly, consuming the room where you were locked away. Smoke filled the air, choking you. But no help came. Kyle stood outside, watching the building burn.

To him, you deserved to feel the same terror and pain his mother had endured. You would die in fire, just as she had, and he would finally feel some justice.

As the flames roared, Kyle’s right-hand man approached, handing him a phone. Reluctantly, Kyle tapped play, and the screen showed the inside of Zean’s estate. His eyes narrowed as the footage revealed a young girl—you—no more than five years old, curled up on a cold floor, bruises covering your small frame. Zean stood over you, striking you with a force that should never be used on a child.

Kyle’s breath hitched. Zean hadn’t been torturing his mother. He had been torturing his own daughter.

Kyle’s heart clenched as he watched his mother, Aisha, rush into the frame, gathering you in her arms. She whispered softly

“My dear child. Don’t give up. You’re hurt now, but one day, you will be happy. If not from your father, then another man will bring you joy.”

Tears stung Kyle’s eyes as his mother’s words echoed

“Many boys will bring you flowers, but someday, you’ll meet one who learns your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. Only that boy will earn your heart.”

The screen went black.

“This girl… she was suffering all along,” Kyle whispered, guilt overwhelming him. His mother had loved you like her own, protecting you from Zean’s cruelty. In his blind hatred, Kyle had done what Zean had—he had hurt the innocent.

He turned back toward the burning building.