At the words "family discipline," Simon Hawthorne finally reacted. He spun around, disbelief etched across his handsome, refined features. "Grandpa! Nothing has been proven yet! She won’t survive it!"
As a member of the Hawthorne Family, how could he not know the severity of invoking family discipline?
Mercy Hawthorne had been arrogant and spoiled in her youth, resulting in frequent stints in solitary confinement. Her most serious offense occurred while studying abroad. She had fallen in with a bad crowd of wealthy heirs, nearly touched illegal drugs, and even alerted the police. After that incident, she was dragged back home and kept under strict supervision. In a fit of rage, his grandfather had invoked family discipline, striking Mercy three times with the whip. Those three lashes had left Mercy bedridden for half a month, and even now, faint scars lingered on her lower back.
The Hawthorne Family’s ancestral rules were exceedingly strict, passed down through generations to keep descendants in line. Anyone who entered the Hawthorne household had to abide by them—a standard practice among many prestigious, old-money families. But Zoe Lancaster was frail, and his grandfather’s anger showed no signs of abating. She simply couldn’t withstand the punishment!
"Simon, don’t argue with Grandpa. The Hawthorne rules have been in place for years, and they’ve never made an exception for an outsider," Peyton Joyce said anxiously. She walked to Simon’s side, grabbing his arm and patting it soothingly.
The old man ignored Simon’s outburst. His expression remained icy as he looked at Zoe. "Do you admit your wrongs or not?"
Zoe’s limbs felt stiff and freezing. A crushing weight bore down on her. Not only was her reputation being dragged through the mud, but they were also forcing her to confess to something she hadn’t done. She couldn’t do it!
"I did nothing wrong." She enunciated every word, the stubbornness buried deep in her bones finally erupting. She had done absolutely nothing wrong!
To everyone else in the room, however, she was simply unrepentant—a guilty woman too stubborn to admit her faults.
The oppressive glint in the old man’s cloudy eyes intensified. "Beat her! Beat her until she confesses!"
The butler was already in position. Wrapped around his hand was the Hawthorne Family’s black leather snake whip, an heirloom passed down for generations. The pitch-black whip, embedded with fine, silver-needle barbs, lashed out toward her back. Zoe gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.
CRACK!
The crisp, sharp sound of a whip striking flesh echoed piercingly through the room, but the expected agony never came. Instead, the hall descended into chaos.
"Simon!"
"Simon!"
Amidst the chorus of alarmed gasps, Zoe opened her eyes. Her senses slowly returned. The man had somehow moved behind her, taking the brutal strike in her place. The faint metallic scent of blood drifted into her nose. He lowered his eyelashes, his lips taking on a starkly vibrant hue that made the terrifying pallor of his face even more pronounced.
Peyton’s heart nearly stopped, and she scrambled frantically from her chair. She had been gripping him tightly just a second ago, but in a flash, he had mercilessly shoved her aside. Without a shred of hesitation, he had thrown himself in front of Zoe.
Simon’s brow furrowed. It must have hurt excruciatingly. His long, thick eyelashes fluttered slightly, yet his expression remained ruthless and cold, like a block of unmelting, heartless ice. The gaze he fixed on her was complex and profoundly deep.
A deafening roar filled Zoe’s ears. She completely forgot how to react until a sudden shout broke the trance.
"Get out of the way!" Ken Lowell charged over and shoved her hard. Zoe stumbled a few steps back before she managed to steady herself.
Ken looked at Simon’s back. His black shirt was sliced wide open, revealing the mangled flesh beneath. From his shoulder blade all the way down to his lower back, the barbed whip had shredded his skin. It was a gruesome, bloody mess.
Zoe couldn’t bear to imagine it. If that lash had landed on her, would the baby in her womb have survived?
"Are you crazy? Is it worth it? For a woman who betrayed you and schemed to hand the project over to the Yates Family?!" Ken cried in disbelief. She couldn’t fathom how the son who had never been close to her could go to such lengths for another woman! Was he protecting Zoe, or was he simply defying them all in public?!
Simon pressed his pale lips together. "Enough! This is my private affair. We will resolve it ourselves. By interfering, are you trying to solve the problem, or are you just adding fuel to the fire?"
His sharp retort left no room for argument and spared no one’s feelings. Seeing his expression, Peyton was suddenly gripped by a wave of panic. It felt as though a string she once held tightly had slipped from her grasp, fluttering away where she could neither pull it taut nor reel it back in.
The old man was visibly enraged. He stood up shakily, pointing a trembling finger at Zoe. "A curse... You’re a curse that will ruin this household!"
Almost the very second the words left his mouth, the old man’s eyes rolled back in his head. He passed out, collapsing heavily back into his chair.
Simon’s face drastically changed. Ignoring his own injuries, he rushed over, his voice harsh and demanding. "Get the car ready! To Kingsward Hospital!"
Chaos erupted once more. The butler finally snapped out of his shock and immediately hurried to arrange the transport. The old man’s health had always been poor. Fainting from sheer fury guaranteed that this was no minor medical issue.
Zoe watched the chaotic scene unfold, her throat bone-dry. She watched helplessly as Simon carried his grandfather and hurried past her. Subconsciously, she reached out, wanting to call his name.
But her fingertips grazed the warm, scarlet blood oozing from his shredded back. Her pale fingers were stained with his blood. The heat of it made her very soul tremble.
He never looked back at her. But... what had she actually done wrong? Why did it feel like everything was suddenly her fault?
"If I had known this would happen, I would never have let that bitch Cecilia Sloan succeed! I never would have let a femme fatale like you into the Hawthorne Family!" Ken had returned. She glared down at Zoe with cold disdain.
With Simon gone, naturally, no one was left to protect this woman! She scowled and continued, "If anything happens to the old man, Zoe, you’ll be the one responsible!"
With that, she threw down her final command before storming off. "Lock her in solitary confinement! Make her copy *Lessons for Women*!"
The Hawthorne Family’s solitary confinement cell was located in a hidden basement. It was unventilated, devoid of light, chilling, and terrifying. This was Zoe’s first time being sent here.
She had always known that century-old families upheld strict household rules that offered little personal freedom. Every word and action required caution. Without rigid discipline, the infighting within such powerful corporate dynasties would be exceptionally dark. As a result, some archaic and cruel traditions were preserved. They had their pros and cons, but she never expected these traditions to be used on her.
She sat on the freezing ground. In front of her was a low desk with a copy of *Lessons for Women* resting on top. Ken was using the archaic text to humiliate her. The lighting was so dim she could barely make out the words, making the task of copying the entire book immensely difficult.
In silence, Zoe wiped the corners of her eyes and began writing, character by character. She didn’t want to copy it, but her mind was in utter turmoil. She had to force herself to calm down. The basement was damp and freezing. Dressed only in a thin qipao, she was so cold she could barely hold the fountain pen. Yet, the physical chill paled in comparison to the icy despair in her heart.
She didn’t know how long she would be locked away, nor did she know if her baby would survive this ordeal. With the Hawthorne household in total disarray, no one cared whether she lived or died. Had she and Simon finally reached a dead end?
Time trickled by. Even after her eyes adjusted to the gloom, they remained dry and stinging. Outside, it was dead silent. It felt as though she could die down here, and no one would ever know. She gently stroked her stomach. The cold seeped into her bones, bringing a dull, cramping pain to her abdomen. Her face went deathly pale. She turned, pounded on the door, and pleaded.
"Is anyone there?! Open the door!"
The only response was endless, suffocating silence.
Meanwhile, at Kingsward Hospital.
Kingsward Hospital boasted a top-tier team of oncology experts. The old man was rushed into the emergency room and eventually transferred to the ICU. His condition was bleak.