My Future Self Called Never Choose Those Brothers Chapter 03

That was the very first time they had ever reprimanded me.

It was also the day I realized their promises of lifelong protection vanished the exact second Daisy started to cry.

Later on, Daisy took a liking to my bedroom, so I was forced to pack up and move to the guest room.

She wanted to use my music room, so my grand piano was hauled away and handed over to her.

She even envied the heirloom ruby ring my mother had left me—the one my mother had placed on my finger herself on her deathbed.

Because I refused to take it off, Daisy wept through the entire night.

The very next morning, Brody cornered me and grabbed my wrist.

“Chloe, when did you become so damn petty?”

One held me down while the other violently ripped the ring from my finger.

The metal scraped my knuckle raw, sending blood dripping down the back of my hand.

When Daisy slid the ring onto her own finger, her smile was sickeningly sweet.

“You’re not mad at me, right, Chloe?”

Of course I was furious, but everyone around us simply thought I was being immature.

Dad was still alive back then, and he flew into a rage at Adrian and Brody for the first time.

“The Winslow family took you boys in so you could protect Chloe, not so you could help a housekeeper’s daughter bully her!”

Adrian lowered his eyes, remaining silent.

Brody, however, snapped back at Dad for the first time in his life.

“Mr. Winslow, Daisy might be the housekeeper’s daughter, but what gives you the right to constantly throw her background in her face?”

From that exact day, the Winslow family began to crumble.

Our corporate projects were mysteriously sabotaged, and the brakes on Dad’s car suddenly failed in the middle of the night.

He fought for his life in the ICU for a full day and night before leaving me forever.

While I was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, Adrian brought over an Equity Trust Agreement.

“Chloe, you’re in no state to handle this. Leave the Winslow empire to me.”

When I refused to sign, Brody cornered me in the study.

“Are you determined to drag the entire family company into the ground? Daisy is just trying to help you, why do you always have to assume the absolute worst of people?”

The night they forced me to sign, Daisy walked into the room carrying a bowl of hot soup.

“Chloe, please have some soup.”

I didn’t touch it, yet she suddenly collapsed to the floor on her own.

The boiling liquid splashed across her hand, leaving a massive, angry red burn.

When Brody burst into the room, the first thing he saw was Daisy trembling and weeping.

“Chloe didn’t mean to do it. It was my fault, I couldn’t hold the bowl steady.”

The more she defended me, the angrier Brody became.

The look he shot me was filled with pure loathing.

“Chloe, you disgust me.”

That was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me, the force of his slap leaving my ears ringing.

But what hurt worse was seeing Adrian standing right at the doorway.

He didn’t stop Brody; he merely frowned and said, “Chloe, apologize.”

After that, apologizing became my daily routine.

When Daisy lost a necklace, I apologized.

When Daisy fell down the stairs, I apologized.

When Daisy got sick, I apologized.

As long as she shed a single tear, the blame fell entirely on me.

Until the night the Winslow Estate caught fire.

Daisy had claimed she wanted to see my mother’s old art studio, and when I barred her from entering, she broke in anyway.

The fire started directly inside that studio.

I charged into the flames to save our last family portrait, the thick smoke blinding me.

When a burning wooden beam collapsed, a searing agony ripped through my right eye.

The pain nearly caused me to black out, but as I dragged myself out of the inferno, I saw Adrian holding Daisy close.

Brody had wrapped his jacket tightly around her.

Daisy had suffered nothing more than a minor burn on her hand, yet they glared at me with bloodshot eyes.

“Chloe, why did you lock the door? Do you hate Daisy so much that you wanted to burn her alive?”

I clutched my bleeding right eye, unable to utter a single syllable.

That fire consumed the Winslow Estate and destroyed the last remnants of my innocence.

But the ultimate absurdity came later.

Daisy cried, claiming she was deeply traumatized and demanded that I pay the price.

Brody sat in silence for a long time before finally picking up a knife from the table.

He said, “Chloe, Daisy just wants one of your fingers. After this, we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

The hand that had once taken a knife for me now held a blade down against my own fingers.

The knife fell.

My left ring finger severed completely, rolling onto the floor.

I shook violently from the agonizing pain, yet through the roaring in my ears, I heard Daisy let out a soft, satisfied giggle.

“See, Chloe? I just wanted you to feel what it’s like to lose something precious.”

As the memories faded, I finally stopped wiping the counter.

Adrian and Brody stood before me—one completely silent, the other looking profoundly unsettled.

They were likely remembering that night too.

Yet ten years later, they remained clean and immaculate, while I was left with a single eye, a mutilated hand, and a leaking diner.

My phone screen lit up again with a text from eighteen-year-old Chloe.

[I see Daisy. She’s wearing my dress. Adrian and Brody both said they just wanted to make her happy for once. Is what you said… about to begin?]