PART 2: THE FATHER'S WRATH
In the home office located just down a long corridor, Arthur was intensely focused on his laptop screen. He was a highly successful man, possessing a sophisticated, masculine appearance with a neatly trimmed full beard and a crisp, perfectly ironed white shirt. Suddenly, the frantic, agonizing screams of his daughter echoed from the library, piercing through the thick wooden door. The sheer panic in that cry caused Arthur to flinch, dropping his pen onto the desk.
Frowning, he stood up and walked swiftly to the door. Peer through the cracked library door, a scene unfolded that made the blood in his veins boil. His daughter was sobbing hysterically on the sofa, the floor was littered with torn paper scraps, and Madeline—his wife—stood there with her arms crossed, towering like a cold stone statue, watching her own flesh and blood suffer without a single shred of emotion or pity.
A blinding rage surged through Arthur, clouding his reason. He slammed the door open, the wood crashing violently against the wall. Arthur stormed into the room and dropped to his knees beside the sofa. He frantically pulled Lily’s trembling shoulders into his arms, using his large hands to shield her, desperately trying to soothe her: "I've got you, Lily... Daddy's here. Shh, don't cry, sweetheart. I'm right here."
Seeing her father, the child clung even tighter to his shirt, her sobbing unstoppable. Arthur raised his red, fury-filled eyes to look directly at Madeline. His voice trembled, low but packed with volatile anger: "Have you lost your mind, Madeline?! She is a six-year-old child! What did that book ever do to you, what did she do wrong for you to treat her like this? Your cruelty is getting completely out of hand!"
Facing her husband’s thunderous wrath, Madeline did not flinch. Her facial muscles didn't even twitch. She remained standing with her arms crossed, looking down at the embracing father and daughter with a gaze of utter contempt mixed with bitter irony. A mysterious, faint smirk played on her lips. The air in the library felt completely frozen, the psychological pressure heavy enough to suffocate them.
Seeing his wife’s silence, Arthur’s anger intensified. He prepared to stand up to confront her face-to-face, intending to use his marital authority to dominate her. But at that exact moment, Madeline unexpectedly took a sharp step forward. Her movement was so fast and sudden that Arthur choked on his words.
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Madeline bent down low, bringing her beautiful but icy face mere inches away from Arthur’s. The distance was so close that Arthur could see his own reflection trapped in his wife’s deep, razor-sharp dark eyes. That gaze felt like a nail locking him in place, causing Arthur’s confidence and fury to instantly evaporate, replaced by a vague, creeping sense of dread.
Madeline growled each word, her volume incredibly low, meant only for the two of them, but each syllable cut as sharp and lethal as a dagger thrusting straight into Arthur’s heart: "Get out of my sight... before I lose the last of my patience. Your precious daughter... and you, don't make me act a second time."
