On the afternoon of the second day of her "house arrest," there was a soft knock on Seraphina's bedroom door.
"Sister, it's me, Lily. I brought you something to eat," Liliana's weak and worried voice called from outside.
Seraphina didn't respond. She was sitting on the chaise lounge by the window, a soft cashmere blanket draped over her lap, a book of Shakespeare's sonnets resting in her hands, as if she were truly recuperating in peace.
The door opened. Liliana entered carrying an exquisite silver tray, upon which sat a bowl of steaming, fragrant bird's nest soup and several delicate pastries.
When she saw Seraphina looking so serene, a flash of jealousy and displeasure crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by her signature look of innocent, doe-eyed concern.
"Sister, why aren't you answering me?" She placed the tray on a nearby table and walked over to Seraphina, half-kneeling to look up at her, a perfect picture of sisterly devotion. "Are you still angry with Father? He only said those things because he was so worried about you. You mustn't take it to heart."
Seraphina slowly lowered her book, her gaze drifting vacantly out the window, as if she hadn't heard a word.
Being ignored like this gave Liliana a deep sense of satisfaction. This was exactly what she wanted. A Seraphina with a broken spine, a soulless Seraphina, a living doll who could no longer outshine her.
"Sister, I know you're suffering," Liliana began her performance, gently taking Seraphina's hand. It was as cold as marble. "Don't you worry about a thing. Brother Richard and I will look after the company for you. I'll also manage your charity foundations. You just rest and get better. Don't think about anything at all."
Her every word was a needle dipped in honey. It was framed as "concern," but it was, in fact, a declaration: Your company, your reputation, your entire life—it's all mine now.
Finally, Seraphina reacted. She slowly turned her head. A faint light seemed to flicker in her vacant eyes as she looked at Liliana and whispered, "Is that so? Then... I'm truly grateful for your trouble."
"It's no trouble at all, sister. As long as you're okay, I'd do anything," Liliana said, squeezing her hand with "emotion."
"Thank you for your concern," Seraphina's gaze seemed to wander, as if lost in a memory. She began to murmur, "I feel like... I've forgotten so much. I only remember that night... Richard proposed to me, and we drank champagne..."
At the mention of the word "champagne," she clearly felt Liliana's hand stiffen for a fraction of a second.
As if oblivious, Seraphina continued in a dreamy, faraway tone, "That champagne... it was delicious. So sweet, it tasted like peaches. Why have I never had such a wonderful drink before?"
The color drained from Liliana's face.
That bottle of rosé champagne was a special concoction she had acquired from the black market, laced with a powerful, fast-acting drug. She remembered clearly: the drug was colorless and odorless, designed only to induce a deep sleep and cause a short period of memory loss. But why would Seraphina remember that unique, faint taste of peaches?!
Could it be... she wasn't completely unconscious? Did she remember something?
No, impossible! Liliana immediately denied the thought. If Seraphina truly remembered anything, she wouldn't have returned in this half-dead state; she would have returned like a hurricane. This must be a side effect of the drug, a jumbled memory, nothing more than delirious rambling.
Having reasoned with herself, Liliana quickly composed her expression. She forced a smile and patted Seraphina's hand. "Sister, you must be mistaken. That was just ordinary rosé, you've had it before. It seems you were truly frightened this time. Your memory is all mixed up."
As she spoke, she carefully scrutinized Seraphina's face, trying to find any hint of a lie.
But Seraphina's expression remained vacant and confused. It was as if she had just been musing aloud. She seemed to retreat back into her own world, whispering, "Is that so... I suppose I must be mistaken..."
Seeing her like this, the fear that had begun to grip Liliana's heart slowly receded.
She had been overthinking it. This woman was completely and utterly broken. She was no longer a threat.
"Alright, sister, don't dwell on it," Liliana said, standing up, resuming her role as the victor. She looked down at Seraphina, her voice now carrying a barely perceptible tone of pity and charity. "Drink your soup while it's hot. If there's anything you want to eat, or anything you need, just tell me. I'll have the servants bring it to you. After all," she smiled, a perfect, benevolent smile, "I'm the only one in this house now who can make decisions for you."
With that, she turned and glided gracefully out of the room.
Behind her, Seraphina, who had been looking down, slowly lifted her head.
Her vacant eyes were no longer empty. They were filled with a chilling, bone-deep mockery.
She glanced at the bowl of bird's nest soup as if it were a joke.
Very good, Liliana.
I have personally planted the seed of fear for you. Now, it will take root in your heart. It will sprout and grow, tormenting you day and night, making you wonder, endlessly, just how much I truly remember.
And that unknown terror is merely the first interest payment I will be collecting on your debt.
Seraphina didn't touch the soup. She picked up the discarded book of Shakespeare, turning to a page with a line she was fond of:
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."