My Childhood Sweetheart Wants Revenge—He Pushed Me Off a Cliff

In a rare move, Jasper summoned Dr. King to treat me.

Dr. King carefully bandaged and splinted my hand, a mix of pity and disbelief in his expression.

"This young lady has quite the tolerance for pain. Her fingers are already in this state, and yet she waited so long to seek help."

Jasper’s face darkened as he stared at my injury. It was a long moment before he finally spoke.

"Bring the young master up here."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Leo bounded up the stairs, practically glowing with excitement. Behind him, the servants followed closely, carrying a large tray of bamboo strips, which he pointedly had placed in front of me.

"I want a bamboo lantern! Just like the little bird you made last time!"

"It has to be ready by the day after tomorrow—and it better look amazing!"

Jasper glanced at my injured hand, let out a low cough, then turned to Leo.

"Her hand is hurt. Find someone else to make it for you."

Leo's eyes dimmed with disappointment, and just as he opened his mouth to complain, Remy walked in at a leisurely pace. Catching a glimpse of me from the corner of her eye, she smiled at the father and son.

"Then let me do it. Bianca can teach me."

But as soon as her fingers brushed the bamboo, a splinter jabbed into her skin, drawing blood.

"Are you alright?" Jasper stood immediately, rushing to her side, his hands carefully cupping hers with concern. Without even glancing back, he said coldly,

"She only broke the fingers on one hand. The other still works fine."

"Let her do it."

Leo stuck his tongue out at me and skipped out of the room, smug and satisfied.

Left alone with the coarse bamboo strips, I began weaving with my one uninjured hand. The sharp edges scraped my palm until blood ran freely, staining the lantern as I forced myself to complete it.

When I handed it to Leo, he took it—only to immediately recoil with a frown, inspecting every inch.

"Don’t get your blood on my stuff."

"Bianca, your craftsmanship is wonderful," Remy said sweetly.

Jasper raised an eyebrow and sneered.

"Yeah. Just like her mother."

"People can look human on the outside, but be worse than animals on the inside. Dirty. Disgusting."

His words stabbed into me, but my heart felt numb.

My mother, Sophia Hawke, once worked as a maid for the Prescotts. She had been close—like a sister—to Jasper’s mother, Nadia Huxley.

From the moment I was brought into the Prescott home, people whispered that Jasper and I were childhood sweethearts, a rags-to-riches fairy tale.

But then Sophia killed Nadia.

"Jasper, don’t be sad. It’s bad for your health," Remy said with a venomous smile, glancing toward me.

"I was just reminded of it when I saw the bamboo crafts Sophia left in Bianca’s room."

In an instant, Jasper’s gaze shifted sharply. He pointed at me with fury.

"You still dare to keep that bitch’s things?!"

The blood drained from my face. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor.

"That was all I had left from my mother... I swear I’ll hide them better. I’ll never let Mr. or Mrs. Prescott see them again."

"Please. Please just let me keep them."

But it didn’t matter how many times I bowed my head, how the blood from my forehead mixed with tears and streamed into my eyes.

They still threw everything into the fire.

"Good. That’ll get rid of the bad luck," Jasper muttered under his breath.

Remy leaned into him, laughing with delight.

I looked up, vision blurred, but Jasper’s cold, merciless eyes pierced straight through me—like blades cutting into my heart.

Maybe it was how pathetic I looked, but he hesitated, just for a moment, and stepped toward me.

Before he could reach me, my body gave out. I fainted again.

When I woke, everything was quiet. I was back in my small bed, in my room.

Before I could focus my vision, I heard Jasper’s voice, sharp and demanding.

"Bianca. Why didn’t you take the medicine last time?"

My hand, resting on my lower abdomen, suddenly turned ice cold.