Chapter 225 The Truth Hurts More Than Lies
William gripped a knife without a handle, his fingers clenched tight around the blade.
No matter who the knife was aimed at, his palm was already cut open first, blood streaming down.
This knife had knocked Isla unconscious and utterly shattered Juniper.
William looked at the unconscious Isla and felt nothing but disappointment.
He was stepping down a winding stone staircase, each step bringing him closer to the darkness below.
Today, he was a slow and merciless guide who wouldn't abandon any "tourist" before reaching the destination.
A bottle of cold liquid splashed onto Isla's face—the liquid's color was off.
Dylan, holding the bottle, wore rubber gloves.
As the liquid scattered, a sharp smell filled the room.
Isla gasped violently and shook her head.
"You devil, you'll go to hell."
She finally realized what was on her.
This pampered woman had actually had urine splashed on her face.
It felt as if insects crawled over her skin, her face unbearable—she needed her skin clean, untouched.
She wiped with her sleeve, but the sleeve carried that stench too.
Wiped with her hands, but the back of her hands were the same.
The yellow liquid got in her eyes, acrid and burning.
William watched her suffering and finally found a trace of satisfaction.
Yes, just like that, a little more.
"This liquid just came from your precious goddaughter. Why would you be disgusted?"
"Aren't you the one who loves Juniper the most?"
Each word brought Isabella to mind.
Back then, he had been even crueler to her.
Since Isabella could endure it, her family could endure it too.
If they couldn't, then they weren't really family.
William took the knife from the butler's hand.
This time, he would do it himself.
Until Dylan grabbed his hand and stopped him.
"Mr. Spencer, maybe we should wait a bit longer."
William narrowed his eyes.
"Are you trying to betray me?"
Dylan tried to stay calm. He'd followed William for so long, he'd never had such thoughts.
He looked at William and pushed away the hurt in his heart.
Mr. Spencer is sick; he's just saying things he doesn't mean.
Dylan told himself.
He gripped William's hand tighter.
"No, I just think if she dies today like this, it's too easy for her."
William's eyes remained cold.
He didn't give Dylan a chance to persuade him, using the knife tip to carve six thin bloody lines on Juniper's face, like whiskers.
The blade cut through skin but avoided blood vessels.
The sharp metal sliced like cutting through thin paper, with controlled precision.
With each movement, Juniper's body trembled.
She couldn't cry anymore.
Only regret—why did she come to the Spencer Villa?
Why did she dream of becoming Mrs. Spencer?
If she'd known, she would've been better off running away with Lester.
The pain in her skin, she could barely feel it.
Her nose was already deformed, the bones in the back of her hand shattered, curled like a dog with a maimed foreleg.
But the pain in her gums was the deepest.
Juniper didn't dare speak, didn't dare beg for mercy.
She was afraid of angering this living curse and making him think of even more twisted ways to humiliate her.
Someone like William shouldn't be here—he should be sent to a mental hospital.
But she didn't dare say it, and could only passively accept.
Another dog cage had been prepared in the living room.
William was tired and separated them into the cages.
It also gave this pair of "devoted mother and daughter" a brief respite.
Deep into the night.
Only the faint sound of breathing from the cages remained in the living room.
Juniper curled up in a corner, face buried in her knees.
Her hair was gone, her scalp white in patches and black in others, like a mottled dog under the moonlight.
Her eyes had been open for a long time.
Her mind replayed everything from today over and over.
The moment her nose bridge broke, teeth flying out of her mouth, hand bones crushed underfoot, the razor swaying by her face, the blade carving six bloody marks on her skin.
And that line—"Tear off the ears and sew them on top of the head."
Until she heard someone cough behind her.
Isla was awake.
Juniper felt a bit of relief—this feeling of not having to pretend was special.
She'd fooled everyone.
Everyone except Isabella.
But she couldn't do anything about her.
Thinking of her own cleverness, a smile appeared at the corner of Juniper's mouth.
Days of torture, yet at this moment, she didn't feel bitter.
Isabella was like a bittersweet remedy, giving her comfort in this moment.
Bullying her really was addictive.
The thrill was gone, too.
"Hey, are you awake?"
"Godmother, I'm really touched that you came looking for me despite the danger."
When Juniper spoke, the corners of her mouth lifted high.
She was proud; she had the right to be proud.
Isla didn't answer, whether from anger or shame.
Juniper didn't care—at least the long night wasn't lonely anymore.
At least she had company.
"Godmother?"
"Don't blame yourself too much, if you're going to blame anyone, blame Isabella."
"She blocked my path."
"I'm the one who should have married William."
Isla's long silence—every word from the person next door left her at a loss.
She wished she were deaf; then she wouldn't hear anything.
She even wished she could switch places with Benjamin on the hospital bed.
Her heart was in chaos; this wasn't simple guilt.
Much less something that could be fixed by admitting mistakes.
It was all too late.
Beatrice was dead, and Isabella was dead too.
Two biological daughters, both pushed into the flames by her own hands.
She was the accomplice who killed them.
The death of her two daughters, no matter how she explained it, she couldn't escape responsibility.
Isla covered her ears, not wanting to listen.
She wanted to die, but didn't have the courage.
Just like that coward who abandoned her daughter and ran away alone all those years ago.
In the moonlight, Isla's eyes were vacant.
On the edge of collapse at any moment.
All the information from one day had already overwhelmed her mind.
This silence made Juniper feel bored.
She felt like teasing her.
"Godmother, say something."
"If you want to hate me, go ahead and hate me."
"Anyway, you're just like me now, but you shouldn't hate me."
"I'm your favorite daughter."
"None of us are good people; you and I are pretty much the same."
Juniper laughed quietly—she'd still won against Isabella.
And found a new target for her cruelty in Isla.
Even if she were a dog, she lived better than the rest of their family.
Upstairs, Isabella leaned on William's shoulder.
William held her, asking in a low voice, "You saw everything, didn't you?"
"Are you scared of me now?"
"Isabella, don't blame me."
"This is what they deserve."
It wasn't over yet; he wouldn't stop just like this.