Reborn in the Enemy's Embrace

"It’s not our fault that somebody wants your life."

The leader brandished his knife. He intended to kill me.

Stevie mustered all its strength and lunged forward.

What evil thoughts could a dog have? It only knew that it had to protect me.

I let out a shout as my head throbbed. It felt as if it were about to explode.

Suddenly, a scene flashed through my mind.

A barely alive puppy had just been born, and its stray mother had been killed by some children throwing.

The mother dog had just been scavenging for scraps to feed its puppies, despite its weary body.

Yet, those children seemed to find pleasure in cruelty, relentlessly pelting the dog with stones.

From birth, humans were predisposed to good and evil. Some could control their evil desires and become. good, while others abandoned their good side and became slaves to their evil side.

Those children didn’t think they were wrong. It was the primitive cruelty of humans that spurred their actions. They enjoyed tormenting those weaker than themselves because they found pleasure in it.

"Get lost!" I was still a child in the memories. I was holding a brick that was larger than my hand, which i then expressionlessly smashed onto the head of the boy who had led the other children to throw stones at the dog.

Instantly, the boy’s forehead bled, and he cried out in pain.

I grabbed his hair and asked him coldly, "Does it hurt? Does being hit by a stone hurt?"

The other children ran away in fright. The boy continued to cry in pain as I said, "Look pain is too."

Soon, the boy’s parents arrived, and they began to scold my parents relentlessly.

In the end, my parents compensated them with money and took the injured dog to the hospital. However, the dog didn’t survive.

My parents adopted the puppies the dog had given birth to, but only one survived. It was a wolfhound, and I named it Georgie.

From then on, I had a wicked dog by my side.

"It’s her! Run!"

Those children seemed afraid when they saw me. They would run as soon as they saw me.

"Sophia can’t go on like this. She’s too indifferent. What should we do?"

"What sins have we committed?"

"Is It our fault? Starting tomorrow, I’ll do charity work. I’ll pray to God for my daughter to be alright again."

In my memories, my parents secretly cried in their room.

My dad, Wendell, said, "Peter told me that Sophia has an emotional disorder and that there are cures for that. The treatments are all well established now. We can send Sophia to him if you’re okay with that."

"Wendell, our daughter is still so young. Do you really want to send her to a mental hospital?"

"Shh..." I recalled my father anxiously comforting my mother. "Then, what do you suggest? She smashed that boy’s head without even blinking an eye!

"No kindergarten is willing to take Sophia in anymore. In the last kindergarten, she bit off a male teacher’s finger! This child is too fierce."

"Didn’t Sophia say that the male teacher bullied a little girl? You saw it in the surveillance footage too! That male teacher had issues!" Juliana argued logically.

"It’s not about who has issues now. It’s about Sophia’s way of handling and solving problems. This is not a method a child should be thinking of. What child would bite off someone else’s finger?"

Juliana fell silent.

"Moreover, in the kindergarten before the last one, she pushed a little girl off a slide. She’s too cold-hearted!"

Even though that little girl had pushed me first and I had merely returned the favor using the same means, I was somehow the one who appeared too cold–hearted in the eyes of others.

In my memories, everyone saw me as a wicked girl when I was young, the kind of person that everyone was afraid of.

"And haven’t you noticed that Sophia’s dog would only listen to her? It’s too eerie a just Georgie; even the animals in the circus were all staring at Stephile back then."

"Stop trying to scare me! Sophia is normal. The circus animals’ riot was because the animal trainers had abused them. What does that have to do with Sophia?"

"That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What if Sophia could even talk to a bear?"

In my memories, my dad seemed to be in great pain and fear,

To him, I appeared as some kind of terrifying monster.

These memories, which I had somehow entirely erased from my mind, had been selectively replaced with only happy ones.

"Wendell... do we really have to send Sophia to a mental hospital?"

"If we don’t take action now, the situation could worsen later on. Imagine if she ends up killing someone."

"Stop! Don’t even say that!"

"Do you recall the incident last month when your friend visited with her son, Damien? We had merely praised Damien and playfully brought up the topic of a childhood betrothal, and Sophia had Georgie intimidate him. Damien, who’s just an eight–year–old boy, was left traumatized by dogs, and he suffered a fever for several days."

In the dim room, my parents’ argumentative voices resounded. As I stood outside the room, their silhouettes before me sharpened my memories.

Indeed, I had been sent to a mental hospital.

I was only five years old at the time.

This was all before my encounter with Dexter.

Reflecting on it, I remember my parents saying that I had used Georgie to frighten Damien because of my jealousy over the betrothal. Could that really be the reason he was scared of dogs? Was it all because of my actions?

"Sofia!"

"Sofia, are you okay?"

The wailing of sirens mixed with Zion’s frantic voice.

"Sophia!" Violette cried out.

I sat on the ground disoriented. Regaining my senses, I realized my dress was soaked in blood.

Stevie, a huge yellow wolfhound, lay dying before me. It looked just like my dog, Georgie, from my memories. Georgie, a black wolfhound, had a similar majestic presence to Stevie.

"Stevie... Please don’t die," I pleaded. My voice quivered as I rushed to embrace the dog.

"Quick, to the hospital," Zion hurriedly took the wolfhound from my arms. He used his clothes to staunch its bleeding.

Medical staff hurried over to check on me. Everyone was concerned that I might have been stabbed.

But to their astonishment, they found no injuries on me. "She’s not hurt."

Only then did Zion process the situation. He looked at the gasping assassin on the ground. Some of them managed to flee while others groaned in pain.

"I’ve killed someone..." I trembled while staring at the fallen assassin before me.

"It was self–defense. They were after your life." Violette cried while holding me tight.

Yet, I had no memory of how I had managed it.

I snapped back to reality and gripped Zion’s arm anxiously. "Dexter... Dexter fell off the cliff. Is he alright?

Is he safe?"

Zion lowered his head and shook his head. "The good news is, Dexter wasn’t found in the car. The bad news is, we’re not sure how he’s doing now. Rescue teams are still searching for him below the mountain."

I staggered back and felt defeated.

Ewan hurried over in a flurry of panic. He gazed at the chaos around and clenched his fists. "Mrs. Black... I never thought they would find you here."

This place was supposed to be safe.

Dexter’s mishap had thrown everything into disarray.

But I held no blame toward him.

"Mr. Ignatius is gone," Ewan lowered his head.

I seemed to have anticipated this. Martin was ruthless. He was aiming to eliminate Dexter and Ignatius,then me and my unborn child this time.

He did this all to seamlessly inherit everything from the Blacks.

"Find Dexter..." Be it he was dead or alive.

"Mrs. Black, don’t you remember what you did after the accident?" Ewan asked tentatively.

I looked at Ewan with a mix of bewilderment and confusion in my eyes.