He Said I Was Nothing Without Him And I Signed For Everything Chapter 04

The rain came down harder.

I lowered my head and looked at my hand.

Blood streamed down my fingers, mixing with the rain. My palm had already gone numb.

I knew.

In this life, I would never paint again.

When I was six, my mother hired a renowned teacher to teach me how to paint. For the next twenty years, painting had stayed with me. It had long stopped being just a skill.

After the Sallow family collapsed, I used this hand to pay off our debts.

When Cassian was at his lowest, I used it to help him secure his first investment.

But later, he only said my paintings were tools I used to flatter the powerful.

Now this hand was ruined.

He should have been satisfied.

Cassian stood in the rain, staring hard at my right hand as the color slowly drained from his face.

He shoved Isla away and walked toward me.

“Maren…”

He bent down to help me. I turned away, and his hand froze uselessly in the air.

Isla suddenly clutched her stomach and drew in a soft breath.

“Cassian, my stomach hurts…”

Cassian turned back at once.

She leaned against the doorway, tears spilling as if on command.

“When Maren rushed at me just now, I was so scared.”

“I know she didn’t mean it, but the baby…”

Before she could finish, her whole body went limp into Cassian’s arms.

The panic in Cassian’s eyes cooled almost immediately. When he looked at me again, only disgust remained.

“Maren, you’d even go after a pregnant woman?”

I was trembling from the pain, but I still lifted my head.

“I never touched her.”

Cassian’s voice hardened.

“Enough.”

“You think hurting your hand will make me feel sorry for you?”

“Stop acting, Maren.”

He turned to his assistant.

“Have her committed. Let them straighten her out.”

Then Cassian lifted Isla into his arms and strode away.

The guards dragged me up from the rain. The moment they pulled at my right hand, pain shot straight to my skull.

Before I blacked out, I saw Cassian carrying Isla into his car.

And I was shoved into another one, taken to a psychiatric facility on the outskirts of the city.

That night, the door opened.

A man stepped inside and came toward my bed with a syringe in his hand.

Beside me, my chart hung in plain view, the warning stamped in red: contraindicated.

I struggled to move away.

Then Isla’s voice came from outside the door.

“Maren never knows how to behave.”

“Give her the shot. She’ll quiet down.”

The next second, a guard pinned my shoulders to the bed. Cold liquid was pushed into my body.

Soon, I couldn’t breathe.

My throat felt sealed shut. The lights above me blurred into widening circles.

I tried to grab onto something.

But the right hand that had once held a brush would not lift again.

…

Three days later, Cassian arrived at Blackridge Psychiatric Center.

Maddox hesitated beside him.

“Cassian, wasn’t committing Maren a little too far?”

Cassian gave a cold laugh.

“I gave clear orders. No one would dare touch her.”

“This was just to teach her a lesson.”

But the director stood in front of him, his forehead slick with sweat.

“Mr. Veyne, Ms. Sallow suffered a severe allergic reaction three days ago. We couldn’t revive her.”

“She’s dead.”