He Broke My Wings, I Shattered His Mind

Julian was obsessed with me to the core; he had a miniature bio-chip implanted in the bone of my left ring finger.

If I moved more than a thousand meters away from him, or if my heart rate exceeded 120 beats per minute, he would drag me back to that pristine white cage like a madman.

Everyone in New York envied me, a golden canary pampered in Julian's clutches. But no one knew that to truly trap me, he had personally cut off my brother's life-saving bone marrow supply.

He thought that by breaking my wings, I would forever be subjugated to him.

But he forgot, a golden canary, pushed to its limits, will also peck out its owner's eyes, and tear them apart.

In the VIP lounge of a top-tier charity gala, the air conditioning was set impossibly low.

I was wearing a red velvet backless gown, my back already drenched in cold sweat. Deep in the bone of my left ring finger, the miniature bio-chip pulsed with a sharp, piercing pain as my heart beat too fast.

It was a warning, a ticking time bomb.

Bang!

The heavy wooden door was locked from the inside. Before I could even turn around, a large hand clamped down on the back of my neck. The immense force, radiating a destructive pressure, slammed me against the dressing mirror.

In the mirror, Julian stood impeccably dressed in a suit, exuding an aura of controlled power. But his eyes were as sinister as a viper eyeing its prey.

"Just now, by the exhibition stand, that man's coat brushed your left shoulder," Julian murmured, his voice so gentle it could drip, yet imbued with an icy chill. "In that exact second, your heart rate shot up to one hundred and thirty. Mia, were you feeling something for another man, or were you signaling for help?"

"I wasn't, I just bumped into him by accident," my voice trembled as I frantically shook my head.

Julian didn't listen. He scoffed, tearing off his silk tie with one hand.

"Julian, don't do this. There are people outside."

My plea was roughly cut off. Julian used the tie to tightly bind my wrists, tying me to the back of the chair. The silk dug into my pale skin, instantly leaving glaring red marks.

He turned to the bar, grabbed a bottle of high-proof liquor, and pulled out a handful of rough medical cotton balls.

"Things that get dirty need to be cleaned."

Julian walked back, ruthlessly tearing open the red velvet over my left shoulder. My rounded shoulder was instantly exposed to the cold air. He twisted open the bottle, pouring the stinging liquor directly onto the cotton balls.

A pungent smell of alcohol permeated the air. The next second, the rough cotton ball was pressed firmly against my left shoulder.

"Ah!"

I cried out in pain. Julian's hand didn't stop, like a madman in the throes of OCD, he scrubbed with all his might, repeatedly, at that patch of skin. The rough cotton ball, mixed with the liquor, scraped away my delicate epidermis like sandpaper.

"It hurts! Julian, I'm hurting! Please, stop scrubbing!"

Tears streamed down my face, and I struggled violently in the chair. The chip in my left ring finger, due to my accelerated heart rate, released an even stronger electrical current. The double torment pushed me to the brink of fainting.

Julian ignored me. He stared intently at my skin, pressing harder and harder. Until my pale shoulder was scrubbed red and raw, oozing glaring blood. Crimson streaks flowed down my arm, dripping into the red velvet, blending seamlessly.

Only then did Julian stop.

He tossed away the blood-stained cotton ball, and with alcohol-scented fingers, gently stroked the bruised and bleeding wound.

"See, now it's clean." He smiled, satisfied, then leaned down and pressed a kiss on the edge of the wound.

I spasmed from the pain, gasping for breath. I lowered my head, biting my lower lip hard, not daring to make another sound. I knew too well that resistance would only invite more sadistic torment.

Julian straightened up, pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from inside his suit jacket, and tossed it lightly onto the dressing table.

It was the ICU bill from New York's best hospital.

"Ethan's bone marrow match, I've had it intercepted overseas." Julian reached out and pinched my chin, forcing me to look up. "Stay by my side, be the good little canary you're supposed to be. As long as you're obedient, your brother will live. If you dare to harbor any improper thoughts again."

His fingers tightened abruptly, knuckles turning white.

"I'll immediately cut off his ventilator, and make sure he has a very ugly death."

I looked at this man in the mirror, towering, controlling everything. Tears flowed down my pale cheeks, and I trembled as I nodded, my voice fragmented yet utterly submissive.

"I understand. I'll be obedient."

Julian released my chin, satisfied, then untied the silk from my wrists and gently tidied my messy hair.

"That's right. There's a cocktail party tonight, come with me."

Julian turned and walked into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Listening to the rushing water, I slowly raised my head.

In the mirror, the fragile, fearful canary had vanished.

I stared at the fresh blood on my shoulder, my downcast eyes no longer holding fear.

Instead, there was a boiling intent to kill!

In the middle of the night, my phone ringing sliced through the dead silence.

I jolted awake. The moment I answered the call, my blood ran cold.

The hospital had issued a critical condition notice. My brother, Ethan, had a severe lung infection and wouldn't make it through the night. The bone marrow transplant had to be done immediately, and the exorbitant surgery fee was also due by the deadline.

And the successfully matched donor and the life-saving money were all in Julian's hands.

I didn't bother to put on shoes, stumbling into the master bedroom.

Julian leaned against the leather headboard, carelessly swirling half a glass of red wine. Seeing my disheveled state, a sneering curve tugged at his lips.

He already knew.

"Please, save Ethan." I dropped to my knees on the cold floor.

Julian looked down at me from above, as if I were a dog.

He put down his wine glass and got out of bed barefoot. His large hand suddenly gripped my long hair, dragging me out without mercy.

A tearing pain ripped through my scalp. Biting my lip hard, I stumbled and crawled on the floor, shielding my head with my hands.

At the end of the corridor was a giant glass conservatory.

Outside, the rain poured down, thunder roared. The conservatory had no heating; it was cold as an ice cellar.

Julian suddenly flung his hand, slamming me hard onto the white tiles.

He walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out several bottles of fine red wine.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bottle after bottle exploded around my feet. Dark red wine splattered, and sharp glass shards covered the floor.

Julian grabbed a large bunch of red roses from the flower bucket. He tore off the petals with his bare hands, then violently threw the thorny stems into the scattered glass shards.

He took off his silk robe, tossing it onto the back of a chair. He then sank into the velvet sofa, crossing his legs, his gaze sinister.

"You want money? You want the bone marrow?" He pointed at the wreckage, a mix of glass and thorns. "Show me your sincerity. Dance for me, right on that. Dance until I'm satisfied."

I stared at the execution ground before me, a place that could cripple my feet.

The chip in my left ring finger sensed my heart rate soaring, releasing a bone-chilling microcurrent.

I didn't hesitate, didn't beg.

I slowly stood up, my bare feet stepping without hesitation into that dark red wreckage.

My first step landed.

Sharp glass instantly pierced the soles of my feet. Blood welled up.

I spasmed from the pain, biting down hard, forcing back a cry of agony.

I slowly raised my arms, striking a classical dance opening pose. Lightning flashed, its pallid light illuminating my bloodless face.

Second step. Third step.

The glass shards dug deeper and deeper, firmly embedded in my flesh. Rose thorns savagely cut my ankles, tearing open my skin.

I began to spin.

Every jump, every landing, was a heart-piercing, bone-chilling pain. Cold sweat drenched my nightgown, clinging to my back.

Red wine and blood mixed together, dragging out shocking crimson trails on the pure white tiles.

I was like a crimson butterfly with broken wings, forced to dance on knife-edges.

Julian leaned back on the sofa, staring intently at me.

Watching my pained, enduring face, watching my movements, still submissive despite the pain and spasms.

The brutality and excitement in his eyes peaked. His breathing grew shallow, his gaze feverish like a madman's.

This was what he wanted.

He wanted this proud golden canary to be completely crushed, her soul forced to grovel at his feet.

Ten minutes, stretched out like a century.

The soles of my feet were raw and bleeding, deep enough to see the bone.

After completing the final spin, I finally couldn't hold on, collapsing heavily into the shattered glass. Shards dug into my knees and palms, bleeding profusely.

I gasped for breath, struggling to look up. My eyes were broken, submissive, gazing up at the man on the sofa.

Julian was finally satisfied.

He stood up and walked closer. His leather shoes squelched sickeningly on the blood and wine.

He bent down, stroking my sweat-drenched face as if caressing a beloved pet.

"Such a good girl."

He dialed Mr. Davis, his assistant. Instructing him to transfer funds to the hospital. To have the donor ready overseas, on standby.

After hanging up, Julian scooped me up from the floor into his arms.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, knowing full well, his voice resuming that chilling tenderness.

I leaned against him, my nails digging hard into my palms, suppressing the urge to tear him apart.

I forced out a fragmented smile: "No, it doesn't. Thank you, Julian."

Julian chuckled softly, then carried me swiftly out of the conservatory.

I lay on his shoulder, looking back over his neck.

On the white tiles, there were countless bloody footprints.

The searing pain in my feet and knees pulsed through me. I closed my eyes, hiding the monstrous killing intent within.

From beginning to end, I hadn't shed a single tear.

I finally understood.

As long as Julian lived, my brother and I would always be lambs to the slaughter.

Julian had to die!

I would flay this madman alive with my own hands, send him to hell!

In the bedroom, the smell of blood was pungent.

Dr. Oliver, Julian's chief private physician, knelt on the carpet with a medical kit. He shone a powerful flashlight on my feet and gasped.

Glass shards had pierced through the skin, fragments embedded in the bone seams.

Dr. Oliver picked up a pair of tweezers, clamping onto the largest piece.

"Bear with it," he whispered.

As the glass was pulled out, blood welled up. I bit down hard on the pillowcase, cold sweat soaking my nightgown, yet I didn't utter a sound.

Cleaning, disinfecting, applying medicine. The only sound in the room was the sharp clink of tweezers against the tray.

Julian had gone to the office. In the four corners of the bedroom, surveillance cameras blinked red.

I stared at a camera, then suddenly reached out. The water glass by the bed tipped over.

The water streamed down the nightstand, precisely hitting the power strip on the carpet.

Sizzle. The camera screen went black, the red light extinguished. Local power outage.

Dr. Oliver's hand paused, and he looked up sharply.

"Don't be nervous," I said, leaning against the headboard, my voice weak yet chillingly calm. "I tampered with the power strip. The backup power won't switch over for ten minutes. For these ten minutes, Julian is blind and deaf."

Dr. Oliver's brow furrowed. "Ms. Amelia, what are you planning?"

I stared at him, my eyes like knives. "Dr. Oliver, fourteen years ago, at the Southwood Orphanage. If it weren't for my mother anonymously donating that fifty thousand for your overseas tuition, you'd still be working odd jobs in a shady clinic, not serving as Julian's lackey here."

Dr. Oliver's face changed drastically. Clang! The tweezers dropped into the tray.

"How do you know?" He stared intently at me. That money was anonymous; it took him ten years to find out the benefactor's surname was Lin.

"My mom gave me all the donation records before she died." I pushed myself up, closer to Dr. Oliver. "Dr. Oliver, you're a man of loyalty. You've been secretly looking for my mom all these years, haven't you?"

Dr. Oliver's throat moved, speechless.

"My mother was driven to her death by Julian's family," my eyes were bloodshot, my voice laced with ice. "Now, Julian is threatening my brother's life, treating me like a dog."

I held out my left hand, my ring finger right in front of Dr. Oliver.

Beneath the skin, the bio-chip pulsed with a faint glow.

"If my heart beats too fast, or if I leave the designated range, this thing will discharge electricity," I sneered. "Dr. Oliver, you're a skilled physician; you must know that prolonged exposure to this kind of bio-electrical stimulation can lead to a nervous breakdown."

Dr. Oliver stared at the chip, then at my feet, deep enough to see the bone, his eyes filled with shock and internal struggle.

"What do you want me to do?" Dr. Oliver whispered. "Help you remove it? No, once it's removed, Julian will receive an immediate alert."

"I'm not removing it." My eyes hardened. "I want him dead."

Dr. Oliver shot up. "Ms. Amelia, you're insane! Julian's security is airtight, and all his food is checked. You can't kill him!"

"I'm not killing him." I stared coldly at Dr. Oliver. "I want him utterly disgraced, to become a complete madman. Dr. Oliver, help me. Consider it repaying my mother for saving your life."

Dr. Oliver fell silent. Looking at the woman before him, battered yet fierce as a wolf, the scales in his heart finally tipped.

He knelt down again, reaching into the bottom compartment of his medical kit, and pulled out a thumb-sized transparent glass vial.

A colorless, odorless liquid.

"New-type neuro-hallucinogen," Dr. Oliver pressed the vial into my hand. "One drop each time. Regular blood and urine tests won't detect it, I guarantee."

"What are the effects?" I clutched the vial.

"It slowly erodes the central nervous system," Dr. Oliver's expression was grave. "Initially, severe insomnia, irritability, paranoia. Long-term use will induce extremely realistic, terrifying hallucinations, eventually leading to severe mania. By then, not even a miracle could save his mind."

I looked at the vial, a cruel smile playing on my lips.

"Good. This is perfect."

Dr. Oliver continued to explain, "It must be taken continuously for at least half a month. No interruptions. You'll have to find a way to mix it into something he consumes daily. Ms. Amelia, once the arrow is shot, there's no turning back. If we're exposed, we both die."

I hid the vial against my body, under my clothes, my eyes showing no trace of hesitation.

"Don't worry. I'm not even afraid to die, why would I be afraid of him finding out?"

Dr. Oliver quickly bandaged my foot wounds and packed up his medical kit.

"The backup power is about to activate," Dr. Oliver instantly reverted to his cold demeanor. "Don't let the wounds get wet, change the dressing regularly."

Just as he finished speaking, the lights flickered. The red lights on the surveillance cameras came back on.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the corridor. The door opened. Julian walked in, bringing with him a chill, his gaze sweeping the room like a hawk.

"What happened? Why did the monitoring cut out?" Julian walked to the bed, looking down at me.

Dr. Oliver lowered his head. "Mr. Julian, I accidentally knocked over a water glass earlier, short-circuiting the power strip. It's all cleaned up now."

Julian scoffed, his gaze falling on my foot. The thick bandage was oozing glaring blood.

"Are the injuries taken care of?"

"Yes, they are. No bone damage, but she needs rest," Dr. Oliver replied flawlessly.

Julian waved his hand, dismissing Dr. Oliver.

The door closed. Julian took off his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and touched my pale face, his fingers deliberately brushing my chapped lips.

"Were you scared when the power went out?" His voice had reverted to that sickening tenderness.

I suppressed the churning in my stomach, submissively pressing my face into his palm, like a bird completely tamed.

"No. I knew you'd protect me, Julian."

Julian smiled, satisfied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss on my forehead.

"Good girl."

I closed my eyes. The glass vial pressed against my chest was cool, yet it felt like a burning fire of revenge.

My foot injuries hadn't even scabbed over when I got out of bed.

Changing into Julian's favorite white silk nightgown, I walked barefoot into the kitchen, sending away the terrified housekeepers.

Grinding, brewing. Boiling water poured in, a bitter coffee aroma filled the air.

In the rising steam, I stood with my back to the surveillance camera, pulling the thumb-sized transparent glass vial from the hidden pocket of my nightgown.

I pulled out the stopper. My wrist tilted slightly.

Drip.

The colorless, odorless liquid fell into the dark coffee, instantly dissolving.

I picked up the white ceramic cup, glancing at my left ring finger. The chip beneath the skin lay dormant. I suppressed my heart rate, then turned and walked towards the study on the second floor.

The door was ajar. Julian leaned back in his executive chair, flipping through documents, his brows furrowed.

I pushed the door open, walked in. The coffee was gently placed on the mahogany desk.

Julian looked up, his gaze like a knife, finally settling on my bandaged foot.

"Who told you to get out of bed?" His voice was sharp.

"You didn't sleep well last night, so I wanted to make you a cup of coffee." I didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with soft, submissive eyes.

Julian narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. He was accustomed to my fear and trembling; this active attempt to please him felt novel, yet it also made him suspicious.

He reached out and pinched my chin, forcing me to look up.

"Mia, what game are you playing now?"

My eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I reached out and covered his hand, gently rubbing it.

"Julian, I've thought it through," my voice was as light as a feather. "I can't escape you. As long as you're willing to save Ethan, I'll listen to whatever you say. I'll be a good girl from now on, okay?"

Julian stared intently at me. The chip in my ring finger remained still; my heart rate was steady, indicating no lies.

The gloom in his eyes receded. He released his grip, then pulled me into his lap.

"You should have been this obedient earlier."

He picked up the coffee, brought it to his lips, and took a large sip.

I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, watching that sip of black coffee, laced with hallucinogen, slide down his throat.

In the blind spot where Julian couldn't see, a chilling curve played on my lips.

Over the next half-month, I transformed.

Shedding all my defenses, I became the perfect golden canary. Whatever Julian wanted, I gave. Even the most disgusting, perverse requests, I accepted completely, proactively accommodating him.

Every morning, a spiked cup of black coffee was served without fail.

Julian reveled in my submissiveness. His guard dropped sharply; he no longer constantly monitored the cameras, even allowing me to stay in his study to organize documents.

I acted like a beautiful, thoughtless doll, quietly categorizing files. In reality, I was burning his access passwords and project vulnerabilities deeply into my mind.

Half a month later, the effects of the drug became evident.

Sleep was the first thing to collapse. Julian began having sleepless nights, waking up in a cold sweat even after taking sleeping pills. His eyes were bloodshot, his temper extremely volatile.

Late one night.

A loud crash exploded from the study.

I threw off the covers and rushed over. Mr. Davis, his assistant, stood outside the door, drenched in sweat, not daring to provoke him.

I pushed the door open.

The study was a wreck. Antique vases lay shattered on the floor, papers flew everywhere. His laptop was smashed against the wall, its screen fractured.

Julian stood in the center of the ruins. Like an out-of-control beast, his eyes bloodshot, his chest heaving violently. He stared intently at the shadows in the corner, guttural gasps escaping his throat.

"Get out! All of you, get out!" He screamed frantically at the empty air, veins bulging in his neck.

The hallucinogen was starting to damage his nerves; he was experiencing hallucinations.

I walked barefoot, stepping over the scattered ceramic shards, approaching the madman on the brink of rage.

Hearing footsteps, Julian spun around.

He gripped my throat, slamming me against the bookshelf, with enough force to nearly crush my neck.

"You want to harm me! All of you want to harm me!" Julian gritted his teeth, his eyes wild and unfocused.

I couldn't breathe, my face flushed, yet I didn't struggle.

I painstakingly raised my hands, cupping his twisted face.

"Julian..." I managed to gasp, my voice incredibly gentle. "It's me. It's Mia. No one wants to harm you."

Despite the searing pain in my neck, I hugged his trembling body tightly.

"Don't be scared. I'm here. I'll always be with you."

Those words were like a spell.

The madness in Julian's eyes abruptly paused, and the strength in his hands instantly left him.

Like a drowning man grasping for a piece of driftwood, he wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face deep into my neck.

He took deep breaths of my scent, his whole body trembling.

"Mia... Mia..." he murmured incoherently, his pathological dependence peaking at that moment. "Don't leave me."

My bones ached from his tight embrace.

I reached out, gently stroking his back, soothing him like a rabid dog.

Looking up at the opulent crystal chandelier, my eyes were as cold as ice.