But this time, Emily burned them on purpose.
Then she struck me hard.
A liquor bottle smashed across my body. I barely felt the pain anymore—my only instinct was to shield what little remained of those paper stars.
They were the last gift Mom had left me.
She had promised: once the box was full, she would come take me home.
But then I felt warm liquid running down my face—my head had been split open.
As I fell unconscious, I saw Richard’s polished shoes stop in front of me.
I forced a weak smile. “Daddy, I wasn’t bad…”
And Emily burst into loud sobs.
Olivia Grant put on a look of panic, saying my messy, bloodied appearance had frightened her daughter.
“Sophie Foster!”
Richard grew furious.
He said I was pretending to be pitiful, hurting myself on purpose just to win sympathy.
He said I was just like my mom—disgusting and unbearable.
Emily Grant pointed at my bleeding, pathetic state and burst out laughing.
“Daddy, doesn’t Sophie look just like a dog?”
“Daddy, I want to hear her bark like one!”
Those cruel words—I thought Richard would at least frown and refuse.
But instead, he crouched down indulgently and scooped Emily into his arms.
“Now that you mention it, Emily, she does kind of look like one.”