Chapter 3
I left and felt my way up to the rooftop.
The wind was strong up there, making me sway.
I slowly walked forward, the wind getting stronger with each step, until my foot hit a low wall.
I crouched down to feel it, and after touching the top of the wall, I managed to sit on it with great effort.
The street must be right below, right?
I couldn’t see, but I hoped I wouldn’t land on anyone if I jumped.
As I clasped my hands together and said a silent prayer, a familiar male voice came from behind me.
“Girl, you’re going to off yourself? Hey, have you considered my feelings?”
The kidnapper’s voice sounded a bit nervous.
It made sense. He had my phone and had made ransom calls to my brothers. If I died, they might really think he killed me when the ransom failed.
Well, since I was going to die anyway, I might as well do one last good deed.
I sighed and said to him, “Brother, can you bring me my phone? I’ll record a message as a suicide note. That way, my death won’t be connected to you.”
He sighed too: “Girl, it’s not just that. There’s also a daily transfer limit on your bank card. It’s only ten thousand a day. Why don’t you come down, and tomorrow we can go to the bank together to withdraw the money?”
I remained sitting on the edge of the rooftop, not moving.
The kidnapper’s voice softened, as if coaxing a child: “Girl, help me out one last time, okay?”
After a moment of standoff, the kidnapper moved behind me, gave me a quick chop to the neck, and then grabbed my waist to pull me back.
Halfway through, I covered my neck and said to him, “Brother, I was about to come down anyway. You didn’t need to hit me, it hurts.”
“Oh, you didn’t pass out?”
He apologized: “Sorry, girl. I saw on TV that people always pass out when you do that.”
“Watch less TV.”
“Got it.”
I was taken back to the kidnapper’s place, but this time he didn’t tie me up. He even got me a towel to put on my neck.
The kidnapper’s name was Jack Wilson, a very ordinary name that matched his simple personality.
I wondered how he ever got the courage to attempt a kidnapping.
After he finished tending to my neck, he asked what I wanted to eat.
I thought for a moment and said, “I’d like some cake.”
I had only eaten cake once before, on the day I first returned home. My brothers had prepared a welcome cake for me.
But that cake had only been cut once before the housekeeper let out a scream, and then everyone rushed upstairs.
I couldn’t see, but from their conversation, I learned that Rosalie had attempted suicide, and there was blood everywhere.
Alexander carried her into the ambulance, with everyone else following closely behind. I wanted to go too, but William stopped me.
He said, “Rosalie is afraid of you. She was shaking just looking at you. You’d better stay home.”
So I was left alone in the empty house.
I ate a few bites of the cake, but perhaps because I had been used to eating stale food and had never had cream before, I suddenly felt sick from eating too much. I threw up terribly but managed to clean everything up before everyone returned, not wanting them to notice.
They were my family, and I didn’t want to worry them.
Nor did I want them to think I was a burden.
I carefully maintained my relationship with everyone like this, trying to fit in.
But in the end, I realized that no matter how well-behaved and understanding I was, it couldn’t compare to a single tear from Rosalie.
I was really tired.