When I was ten, I saved my older brother from people hunting him down, losing the use of both my legs in the process.
When I grew up, I gave my boss my room key of my own accord so my brother could get a job.
When my brother found out, he went berserk and beat my boss half to death, then held me protectively in his arms.
After that, he was diagnosed with paranoid personality disorder. I was his only family, and the one thing no one was allowed to touch.
Later, he reclaimed the family fortune and became the living King of Hell, someone no one in Haicheng dared offend. His possessiveness and obsession with me grew several times stronger.
He wouldn’t let me leave his side for a moment. If anyone with bad intentions so much as looked at me twice, he’d dig out their eyes.
To heal my legs, my brother forced himself to bear the pain of separation and sent me abroad.
The day I stood on my feet again, I received my brother’s wedding invitation.
Full of hope, I returned home with my mother’s keepsake, only for my future sister-in-law to mistake me for a mistress and have me dragged to an abandoned building.
“You shameless little slut, you little vixen! I’ll peel off that face you use to seduce men, and then let’s see how you’ll try to steal mine!”
She smashed my mother’s keepsake, broke all four of my limbs, peeled off my face, and tortured me to death.
Then she stuffed my body into a cramped box and sent it to my brother.
“Darling, this is the slut who pretended to be your sister.”
My brother’s illness flared up, and in his fury he had wild dogs tear me to pieces until not even my bones remained.
When he spotted the leg brace he’d personally chosen for me, my brother suddenly froze.
My future sister-in-law smiled and said:
“Darling, you never would have guessed, right? This little tramp was the vixen trying to seduce you all along.”
