Ch. My sister’s punishment, my billionaire prize 5 My sister’s punishment, my billionaire prize 5

05 

Oh, right. 

Before, I’d always tried to please my family by secretly observing what foods they liked, getting p three hours early every day to prepare their breakfast. 

But today, I hadn’t done it. 

Amber put on a sad face, pouting: 

“B I love Violet’s breakfast the most.” 

Ethan comforted Amber while shouting at me: 

“You know Amber loves your cooking, yet you deliberately didn’t make anything. How can you be so cruel?” 

So this was all about Amber’s completely optional breakfast? I couldn’t help but laugh: 

“Really? But in five days-no, four days-I’ll be sent to the Blackwood estate for punishment. Will you drag me back from there to cook for you?” 

The dining room suddenly fell silent. 

Amber broke it with a tearful voice: 

“Violet, you’re not refusing to make breakfast because you have to go to the Blackwoods, are you?” “If that’s the case, I’ll just go to the Blackwoods and die myself!” 

She made a dramatic move toward the door. 

Ethan quickly caught her, showering her with comfort: 

“If anyone’s going to the Blackwoods to die, it should be Violet, not you!” 

As soon as he said it, even Ethan himself shut his mouth. 

He hadn’t meant to say something so vicious. 

After all, I was his sister too! 

My gaze toward him turned completely cold, like looking at a mortal enemy: 

“I swear, Ethan Parker, I will never waste another ounce of feeling or effort on someone as rotten as you, ever again.” 

Hearing my words, whatever small guilt Ethan might have felt instantly vanished: 

“Fine!” 

“If that’s how you want it, Violet!” 

With that, Ethan grabbed me by the hair and locked me in the storage closet. 

Before locking the door, his voice was almost shaking: 

“Let me tell you, Violet-when you come to your senses and agree to make breakfast, that’s when I’ll let you out! Otherwise, you can stay in there forever!” 

Then he left with Amber, fuming with anger. 

Before leaving, he specifically instructed the staff to only release me when I was ready to apologize. What he didn’t know was that I had a raging fever. 

My ankle from last night had received no treatment and had swollen to the size of a small melon. Plus, when Ethan dragged me across the floor, the wound had scraped against the ground, bleeding heavily. 

Now, the pain from my scalp where he’d pulled my hair was the least of my injuries. 

At first, I still had enough strength to pound on the door and scream for help. 

But before long, I lost consciousness. 

The staff outside faithfully followed orders-not hearing any apology, they kept the door locked. Until my mother happened to ask about me. 

Ever since losing that baby, my mother’s health had never been good, especially her migraines, which had grown worse over the years. 

That is, until I returned from Vermont. 

Although I always behaved cautiously in the Parker house, my mother knew I was always secretly watching her. 

After discovering her migraine problem, I used my spare time to learn massage techniques. 

I didn’t know any good teachers, so I taught myself using online tutorials. 

I filled four or five notebooks with notes, studying until dawn every night for two straight months. Afraid of doing it wrong, I practiced on myself several times to make sure it was safe before timidly suggesting I could massage her pressure points to relieve the pain. 

Looking at me–the daughter who’d left her since childhood and could hardly be called caring-my mother didn’t refuse, and let me try. 

Surprisingly, like a blind cat finding a dead mouse, my massage actually relieved her headache. 

Seeing her brow unfurrow, I was beyond happy. 

From that day on, I’d go to her room like clockwork every day to give her a massage. 

But two days had passed, and I hadn’t shown up. 

My mother thought it strange and sent someone to find me. 

That’s when they discovered I’d been locked in the storage closet. When they found me, my body was burning hot, my breathing almost nonexistent.