The night was merciless.

Rain crashed against the ground like broken glass, and thunder roared as if the sky itself wanted to scream your name. Baron stood at the massive front door of the mansion, gripping your wrist with cold, merciless hands before pushing you out into the storm. Your small body stumbled, falling to your knees on the wet pavement, clothes soaked, heart trembling.

Your suitcase was thrown at you like trash.

His voice cracked through the storm, louder than thunder, sharper than a blade:

“Because of you… she hates me. Because of you… my wife walked away from me. You ruined everything, you filthy, unwanted mistake.”

Without hesitation, he slapped you—hard, the sting mixing with rain and tears.

“You are nothing but a pathetic, disgusting illegitimate child! Get out of my sight! Leave this house right now— before I finish what I failed to do years ago.”

He slapped you again and shoved you, letting you fall face-first into the cold mud.