Julia knew that scene by heart; it was etched into her memory forever.

There was no fond remembrance, no sense of reunion, just a surge of hatred that filled her heart.

The first time, it was Walter's goons who dragged her there. She was bound and helpless, tied to an old, rusty bed. Ignored by everyone, those men left her there, alone on that cold bed, drowning in a sea of despair.

How ironic.

Back then, Julia knew nothing, still naively hoping Walt would come to her rescue.

Eventually, Walt did show up... but not to save her. He was the one who sent her tumbling into a new kind of hell.

A hell far worse than that rusty bed.

Julia's steps were deliberate, slow, as if she was measuring the warehouse with her feet.

She stopped only when she reached a narrow iron door.

Julia's lips twisted into a wicked grin as she pictured the scene inside. She could not believe Evangeline's turn of fate.

shoulder

The same rickety metal bed stood there, looking even more worn than before, if that

not Julia tied to the bed it

well, if it isn't the Foster family's darling princess. It's

moved toward Evangeline step

that she could almost scream. Maybe it was seeing Evangeline sprawled on

was knowing that Evangeline's fate-alive or dead, saint or sinner-was

wondering if Julia was her saboteur. When

through all this trouble

"Hahaha!"

laughed heartily, then squinted

Fitx

sister Evangeline, are the

QUMS

feigned innocence, but in

you know how it is, Evangeline. These goons don't know how to hold back, and Dwas out of options,

act, feeling a wave of queasiness threatening

It's over. You say 'please', but

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