The Poison Purge

Sylvia watched Odette’s sweet facade crumble into bitter insecurity, and panic gripped her chest. Desperate to cover her own sudden unnerved state, Sylvia tilted her head back and screamed up the sweeping staircase.

"Marcella! You are just a young girl. How can you be so evil?" Sylvia’s voice echoed sharply against the high ceiling. "Both of you are my daughters! Why wouldn't I love both of you? I scold you because you refuse to work hard! I do it so you'll turn over a new leaf!"

Marcella didn't even pause her ascent.

"Look at your behavior!" Sylvia shrieked, her voice growing shrill as her target walked away. "With a criminal record, what decent school will ever accept you? You are ungrateful!"

The heavy oak door of Marcella's bedroom clicked shut, cutting off the hysterical ranting. Marcella twisted the lock. She ignored the muffled shouting from downstairs and walked straight to her bedside table. She pulled out the small, rare antidote she had secured from the hospital.

Without hesitation, she swallowed the medicine.

Almost instantly, a fierce, burning pain ignited deep within her stomach. Marcella collapsed onto the thick bedroom carpet, her teeth gritting together so hard her jaw ached. The agony spread through her veins like liquid fire, tearing through her system as her body began to force out the accumulated toxins. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her abdomen, enduring the relentless torment minute by slow minute.

Thirty minutes later, the intense burning finally began to ebb. Marcella lay panting on the floor, sweat matting her hair. A thick, foul-smelling black liquid coated her skin, seeping from every pore. The scent was nauseating, reeking of old poison and bodily decay.

She forced herself up, exhaled a shaky breath, and headed straight for the bathroom. Standing under the hot spray of the shower, she watched the dark sludge wash down the drain, swirling against the white porcelain. She scrubbed her skin until it turned a faint pink. The immediate threat was neutralized, but she knew the reality of her physical condition. The poison had rooted itself deep in her bones over the years. It would take at least half a year of continuous, grueling treatment to purge the remaining toxins and restore her original health.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains by the time she finished her routine. Marcella walked out of the bathroom and opened her closet. A row of empty hangers greeted her. Pushed to the far corner were a few pieces of clothing from three years ago. Sylvia had deliberately left her with nothing to wear.

Marcella pulled out the only outfit that still somewhat fit her frame—her outdated, faded junior high school uniform. She slipped it on. The fabric was tight across her shoulders, highlighting her currently chubby figure, but she remained unbothered.

She headed downstairs and stepped out into the crisp morning air. She needed to rebuild her stamina. She went for a long, steady jog around the upscale neighborhood, pushing her weakened muscles to their current limit. Afterward, she stopped at a local diner down the street, sitting quietly at a corner table to eat a simple breakfast. She knew her family would not save a single crumb of food for her.

When Marcella finally returned to the Vance residence, Sylvia and Odette were sitting in the living room. Both wore elegant, immaculate outfits. The breakfast table had been cleared long ago.

Sylvia’s gaze swept over Marcella’s tight junior high uniform, her upper lip curling in disgust. However, remembering Odette’s lingering anxiety from the previous night’s confrontation, Sylvia suppressed her usual barrage of insults. She needed to reassert control over the narrative.

"You came back just in time," Sylvia commanded, her tone cold and clipped. "We have an upcoming art exhibit. Since you have no accessories to wear, you will accompany us to buy a few pieces."

Sylvia turned on her designer heels and marched toward the door before Marcella could say a word. Marcella remained silent and followed her out to the driveway. When they got into the luxury sedan, Marcella took the passenger seat.

The ride was quiet. Sylvia sat behind the steering wheel, her posture rigid, radiating a chilly hostility, but she didn’t utter a single scolding remark about the uniform.

The car pulled up to the curb on Braxton’s commercial street, the most luxurious shopping district in Oakmont City. High-end boutiques lined the pristine sidewalks, their glittering window displays designed to attract the city’s wealthiest residents.

Sylvia led Marcella into a massive, five-story jewelry boutique. The air inside smelled of expensive perfume and polished marble. They bypassed the entrance and headed straight for the premium necklace section on the second floor.

"Pick a piece for yourself," Sylvia told her. She eyed Marcella’s faded uniform again. "We will head upstairs and buy you a matching dress later."

Marcella had zero interest in the sparkling gems under the glass. She wanted to get this over with. She reached out and randomly pointed a finger at a delicate diamond necklace resting on a velvet cushion.

The shop assistant glanced at Marcella. She took in the tight, outdated school uniform and Marcella's heavy figure. A flash of disdain crossed the assistant's eyes. Then, the assistant looked at Sylvia, noting the expensive designer brands and the undeniable aura of wealth.

Swallowing her judgment, the assistant unlocked the display case. She carefully extracted the necklace. "This piece is the latest arrival in our boutique. It suits you like..." The assistant stared at Marcella’s chubby face, struggling to find a flattering compliment.

Before she could invent a lie, Sylvia leaned over to check the price tag.

"Twenty thousand dollars?" Sylvia shrieked in outrage. The sharp sound echoed through the quiet, refined shop.

The assistant’s professional smile froze.

"Let her wear something cheaper," Sylvia snapped, her face flushing with indignation. "She doesn't deserve such an expensive item. It won't make her look any prettier even if you drape her in diamonds!"

The assistant looked awkward. "Madam, you..."

Sylvia waved her hand dismissively. "Put it back. How much is the cheapest necklace in this store? Give me the absolute cheapest one."

Before the assistant could retract the diamond piece, a slow, sarcastic drawl drifted over from the next counter.

"Oh, my. Are the Vances really that poor? You cannot even afford a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace for your own daughter?"

Sylvia whipped around. Greta Falk stood a few feet away, inspecting a ruby ring. The woman wore a mocking, gleeful smirk. Sylvia’s blood pressure instantly spiked.

"What do you mean by that?" Sylvia fired back. "I simply thought the piece didn't suit her!"

Greta chuckled, taking a slow step closer. "You are right. What sort of necklace would be suitable for her?" Greta’s eyes raked over Marcella, her amusement clear. "She is so very different from Odette. I imagine every time you bring her shopping, you can't figure out what to buy. After all, those expensive accessories suit Odette so perfectly."

Greta paused, relishing the deep anger twisting Sylvia’s features. "Don't get mad, Mrs. Vance. It is just genetics, anyway."

The blatant mockery of Marcella’s appearance felt like a direct slap to Sylvia's face. She felt a burning wave of humiliation wash over her. She deeply regretted bringing Marcella instead of showing off Odette's elegance.

"Genetics?" Sylvia hissed, losing whatever remaining grace she possessed. "Do you honestly think I could give birth to trash like her? Even though they are twins, Marcella looks nothing like Odette. I suspect she was swapped with some other child at the hospital!"

Greta laughed, the sound sharp and echoing. "Oh? Then you really should investigate that. If she was swapped at birth, you might be raising a beggar's child instead!"

Sylvia’s hands balled into tight fists. Her nails dug into her palms. Furious and unable to argue back against Greta, she spun around and vented her rage on the easiest target.

"Have you finished choosing a necklace or not?" Sylvia barked at Marcella. "Why are you so slow? If you have this much time to dawdle around, why don't you spend it studying instead?"

Marcella looked at the display case, her expression devoid of emotion. "I have seen everything here, and I don't like any of them. Let's not buy a necklace."

Sylvia’s eyes widened. She thought Marcella was trying to humiliate her further in front of Greta.

"Why aren't you buying it?" Sylvia scolded loudly. "Do you really think we can't afford a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace? I just thought your taste was terrible, so I said it was expensive. Stop behaving like a country bumpkin in front of people!"

Before the argument could escalate, the heavy glass doors of the boutique opened. The shop assistant stationed near the entrance immediately bowed.

"Welcome! What brings you here today, Mr. Blair?"

Dexter Blair walked into the shop. He was the prestigious headmaster of Pinnacle Academy, hailing from a family of renowned scholars. While his brothers conquered the business world—this very jewelry boutique belonged to his younger brother—Dexter held immense power in the educational sphere.

Dexter gave a polite nod to the greeting staff. "My wife's birthday is coming up soon. I want to buy a necklace for her. Please give me some recommendations."

"Right away, sir! It would be our pleasure!" The assistant practically vibrated with enthusiasm, treating Dexter with the utmost reverence.

The moment Sylvia spotted the headmaster, her spine snapped straight. A cold spike of terror pierced through her anger. Marcella’s criminal record meant she would never step foot inside Pinnacle Academy, but Odette was currently enrolled in Pinnacle’s elite class.

Sylvia could not let Marcella cause a scene here. She could not allow this ungrateful girl to tarnish Odette's pristine reputation in front of the man who controlled her academic future.

Desperate to remove the threat, Sylvia lunged forward and grabbed Marcella's wrist in a vise-like grip. She intended to drag her out the side door, away from Dexter Blair's line of sight.

But before Sylvia could pull Marcella even a single step forward, a frantic, piercing scream ripped through the quiet boutique.

"Ah!"