Chapter 374 What have you done

“What have you done?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling, like something fragile that could shatter at any moment.

But the truth was… it didn’t matter anymore.

I gave a faint smile and simply ignored her. There was nothing left to explain, nothing left to defend. I had long since stopped wanting to repeat my suffering for others to hear. Pain like that wasn’t something you could truly describe anyway. The more you tried to explain it, the more meaningless it sounded. Words were too small for things like that.

Vivian suddenly stumbled toward me, her steps uneven, her arms stretched forward like she wanted to pull me into an embrace.

“Elena, I’m sorry…”

Her voice broke halfway through the sentence, the apology cracking apart as tears filled her eyes.

But I stood still.

I had clawed my way out of hell with bleeding hands. I hadn’t survived all that just to stand here now and watch someone perform a scene of regret in front of me.

If she had truly cared about me, she would never have believed I was so wicked… so broken.

The most ironic part was the truth.

The person trying to defend me now was the same one who had pushed me into the deepest darkness in the first place.

“Mrs. Morrigan,” I said quietly, my voice calm but distant, as if I were speaking to a stranger. “I don’t deserve this.”

Her hand trembled as she reached toward my face. Her eyes were red and blurred with tears as her fingers brushed my cheek gently, almost fearfully.

“My poor daughter…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. How could I have thought of you like that? You’ve always been the most well-behaved child since you were little.”

Yes.

I had always been obedient.

After my sister disappeared, I could feel the tension in the Morrigans household growing heavier with every passing day. The air in that house had felt suffocating. Everyone was grieving in their own way. Everyone was angry, confused, and restless.

So I tried my best to be the perfect daughter.

The perfect sister.

I followed every rule. I swallowed every complaint. I made sure no one had to worry about me. I tried to stay quiet, to stay small, to stay invisible.

I thought that if I behaved well enough, if I endured quietly enough, maybe things would become peaceful again.

Maybe the house would feel like a home again.

But in the end…

My kindness and obedience became the very weapons they used against me.

Before Vivian’s hand could rest properly against my face, Wisteria suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backward violently.

Vivian cried out in shock as her body jerked back.

Wisteria’s voice carried the same sweet tone as always, soft and gentle, but the kindness in it was completely fake.

“Mom,” she said softly, her lips curving slightly, “I didn’t reveal the truth so you could reunite with your precious daughter.”

Her lips curved into a cold, mocking smile.

Exactly.

Her goal had never been reunion.

She wanted the Morrigans family to suffer.

Physical pain was nothing compared to psychological torment. A broken bone could heal with time. A wound could close and fade.

But some scars stayed forever.

She shoved Vivian aside carelessly like she was nothing more than an obstacle.

Vivian staggered and nearly fell to the ground.

“Mom, do you know why I left Greg unharmed?” Wisteria continued casually, tilting her head slightly as if she were discussing something trivial. “Nolan and Jake died too quickly. It wasn’t satisfying at all.”

Her eyes glittered with a strange excitement.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

She slowly turned her gaze toward me.

The smile on her face widened slowly, like someone who had finally reached the most entertaining part of a game.

“How about we play a little game?”

Her voice was light, almost playful.

“Elena, you’ve always been pitiful in the Morrigans family too. You must hate them just as much as I do, right?”

She gestured lazily toward the two men standing nearby.

“I’ll give you a choice,” she said. “Pick one person—Malcom or Greg. Cut off his legs, and I’ll let you walk away.”

Malcom and Greg both looked at me.

For a moment, everything became very quiet.

I expected them to beg.

I expected crying, pleading, maybe even screaming.

But Malcom simply closed his eyes.

Whatever emotions were inside him, he hid them carefully behind that tired expression.

“Cut off my legs,” he said quietly.

His voice sounded old.

In that moment, his face seemed to age ten… maybe twenty years. The strong, energetic man I remembered from half a year ago was gone.

Standing beside Dominic now, he looked more like the elder between them.

His hands tightened around the fabric of his pants, gripping it hard as his lips trembled slightly.

“It’s my fault,” he murmured under his breath.

Dad…

The word rose in my chest without warning.

A memory suddenly flashed through my mind.

Him and Luke traveling all the way to Chedor just to find me.

The long road.

The exhaustion on his face.

The way he had looked at me when he finally found me.

He had always been complicated.

Selfish.

Fearful.

Greedy.

Reckless.

But there were moments when he had been sincere too.

Humans were strange creatures.

Full of contradictions.

Capable of cruelty and kindness at the same time.

My body trembled slightly.

When I finally spoke, my voice shook despite my efforts to keep it steady.

“Do you think saying that will make me forgive you?”

My throat tightened painfully.

“I won’t,” I said. “I can never forgive you for everything you’ve done to me.”

Malcom slowly opened his eyes.

There was no anger in them.

Only exhaustion.

“Then kill me,” he said quietly. “That’s what the Morrigans owe you.”

In this life-or-death moment…

He was the first to step forward like a true elder.

Greg suddenly cried out in panic.

“Dad, you can’t die!”

His voice cracked as he turned to look at me desperately.

“Elena, kill me instead. Let my blood pay for your suffering.”

The desperation in his voice filled the room.

Someone standing beside me suddenly placed something heavy in my hand.

An axe.

The cold metal handle sent a chill through my palm, the weight of it pressing down against my fingers.

For a moment, a memory flashed in my mind.

The things I had seen inside Yael’s car trunk.

The blood.

The silence.

If it were them standing here…

They would probably laugh.

And swing the axe without hesitation.

Sometimes…

I truly hated myself for not being ruthless enough.