I crawled on the ground, gasping for air, as Alan ran out and threw away the phone my mother was using to call the police. He threatened her, saying if she dared call the police, I would be dead immediately. Shocked, my mother had a heart attack on her way home and never woke up.
On the day of my mother's funeral, my father's publishing house was oppressed by the Green family and eventually taken over by them. Gary was arrested for copyright infringement, a crime he would never commit. It was all Alan's doing. I took a knife and sneaked into the bedroom. In the pitch-black room, I shakily approached the bed. Just as I was about to strike, a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder. A ghastly voice whispered in my ear. "Olivia Miller, are you trying to kill me?"
That night, I was disfigured. He dragged the knife across my face, down to my chest. "If you please me tonight, I won't hit you," he said. I stared at him fiercely, teeth gritted, "You make me sick." He dragged me by my hair to the kitchen, took out a rolling pin, and broke my fingers one by one.