Chapter 7 His car sped down familiar roads until it stopped outside my old apartment building. The alley was too narrow to drive into. He'd been here countless times, but only now did he truly see this place. He recalled Amelia's whisper before he first brought me here, "Brother, she's used to being poor. She can't jump straight into luxury. It's easy to go from simple to lavish, but hard to go back." So he rent the old, shabby apartment for me. And told me confidently, "Eleanor, it's not safe for you to live somewhere too nice right after coming back. I'll find you a better place later." "Later" never came for eight years. I never complained. Never asked to move. He pushed open the door with difficulty. The inside was spotless. All my things were gone. Only a bag of medicine remained on the table. He walked over. When he saw the note on the bag-For seafood allergy-his tall frame swayed violently. His blood ran cold. For eight years, because Amelia loved seafood, the meals he brought me on the fifteenth were always seafood. Sometimes Amelia's leftovers. Sometimes was pre-cooked food from a street vendor-something he'd picked up and reheated. But I always ate it all with joy, because he said, "I made this myself." He clutched the bag of medicine, pain tearing through his heart like a physical force. Just then, his assistant called. "Mr. Crawford, about the dress you asked me to replace-the one Miss Eleanor's that was ruined-I've looked everywhere, but there's no identical match. Could we get a current season style instead? It was, after all, a dress Mrs. Crawford designed personally for her before she passed. There's no second one." Ethan felt like he'd been struck over the head. It was a long moment before he could speak, his voice trembling with disbelief. "What did you say? Where did that dress come from?" Chapter 7 87.50% The assistant, startled by his reaction, paused before replying, "Last time... Miss Amelia said you sent me to pick up the dress Mrs. Crawford left for Eleanor... to have it altered..." The heavy silence made the assistant realize something was wrong. He stopped short. Ethan pressed a hand to his throbbing temple. He remembered how Amelia had recklessly cut up the dress in the shop. Remembered my sudden outburst. Remembered how he'd screamed at me, humiliated me, even slapped me-all for Amelia. It was in that moment, he realized, the light in my eyes had gone out completely. He gasped for air, regret washing over him like a tidal wave, drowning him, suffocating him. "M-Mr. Crawford? Are you alright?" the assistant asked nervously. Ethan rubbed his face. When he spoke again, his voice was ice-cold. "Freeze all of Amelia's cards. Send her back where she came from. If she makes a scene, cut out her tongue and break her limbs." Of course Amelia made a scene. She came from the poorest valley-a mother who only cared for her son, a father who gambled and drank. Going back meant being married off to some old man for a dowry. She cried until her voice was raw, hair disheveled, eyes swollen. Every fake tear before had shattered Ethan's heart. But this time, her genuine cries of terror earned only his cold indifference. As the manor door closed, Amelia finally screamed her hatred, "Ethan Crawford, I hope you die horribly! Eleanor won't come back! She doesn't want be with you! You'll be alone forever! I curse you to never know true love!" Ethan frowned. A bodyguard decisively cut out her tongue. Silence fell. Ethan opened his phone and happily booked a ticket South. Who said he'd be alone forever? He still had a sister-the one who loved him most in the world. He would bring her back. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. 87.50% Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!