The afternoon riding lesson was originally supposed to be just Elena Monroe and me. But when I arrived at the riding club, I found Dylan Monroe was there, too.
Dylan Monroe flashed me an ingratiating smile. "Hey, she told me to come. But don't worry, I promise I won't disturb you and her at all. You two just focus on your own practice. The instructor can teach me."
It sounded reasonable enough. But once the lesson started, Elena Monroe couldn't take her eyes off Dylan Monroe for even a second. She personally adjusted Dylan Monroe's saddle and carefully helped him mount the horse. Dylan Monroe didn't know how to ride, so Elena Monroe held his hands, guiding every movement. When Dylan Monroe got tired and wanted to dismount, Elena Monroe knelt halfway to the ground, letting him step on her shoulder as he climbed down.
The scene stabbed straight through my heart. Because once upon a time, I too had stepped on Elena Monroe's shoulder to mount a horse. But back then, Elena Monroe had been anything but willing.
That day, Father Sinclair had been there, too. Father Sinclair had said, "Elena, if you marry Sebastian someday, you'll be Sebastian's only wife. And a wife must know how to serve her husband. Today, I'm going to teach you a lesson. Kneel down. Let Sebastian step on your shoulder to mount his horse. Become my daughter-in-law and you can have everything you want. But after marriage, Sebastian must be your priority. Sebastian Sinclair will be your entire world. You only need to serve him. As for anyone else, you don't need to show them any respect."
Father Sinclair hadn't meant to humiliate Elena Monroe. He'd simply seen in Elena Monroe a pride buried deep in her bones. She was a prodigy, brilliantly intelligent. When she was poor and struggling, that arrogance could be hidden. But once she got used to the luxurious lifestyle at the Sinclair estate, the pride of a genius would be impossible to conceal. Fearing Elena Monroe might one day betray me out of arrogance, Father Sinclair had seized that opportunity to warn her.
I'd been young back then. When I stepped on Elena Monroe's shoulder, I'd actually felt sorry for her. I could barely bring myself to do it, but I'd failed to notice the humiliation that flooded Elena Monroe's eyes in that moment.
And now, watching Elena Monroe willingly kneel down, letting Dylan Monroe step on her shoulder to dismount, my eyes felt like someone had thrown a handful of needles into them. The pain was relentless.
I forced myself to look away. I rode my horse, let the wind rush through me, wild and free. Only then did my emotions slowly settle.
Today's exercise was jumping obstacles. I needed to ride my horse over three horizontal bars. The difficulty level was high, but right as my horse leapt into the air, preparing to clear the obstacle, the saddle straps suddenly snapped. I had no time to react and fell straight off the horse's back.
And in that moment, Elena Monroe, who should have been protecting me, had been standing beside Dylan Monroe the entire time. She hadn't even noticed I'd fallen off my horse.
"Elena Monroe!" I bit through the pain, and from the ground, summoning every ounce of strength, I cried out.
Only then did Elena Monroe notice my horse spiraling out of control. She approached at a leisurely pace and effortlessly calmed the panicking animal. Elena Monroe had studied animal training, which was why Father Sinclair had her accompany me to riding lessons. She was supposed to thoroughly inspect my saddle and constantly monitor my movements to ensure my safety. But now her entire attention had been fixed on Dylan Monroe. She hadn't even noticed my saddle wasn't properly secured.
In the end, I broke my leg and had to be hospitalized.
Perhaps to atone for her guilt, during my days in the hospital, Elena Monroe volunteered to stay and care for me. She clearly didn't love me. Yet she tended to me with meticulous attention, to the point where I started to hallucinate, believing maybe she did love me. Maybe she was just too cold to express it.
But how could she not know how to express herself? When she was with Dylan Monroe, the love in her eyes practically overflowed.
A few days later, the wound on my leg had nearly healed. In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom and accidentally overheard someone talking in the hallway.
"Elena Monroe, you've gone too far." It was the voice of one of my foster brides, Tessa Lane. "Sebastian Sinclair's saddle. You deliberately cut it. Even though Dylan was pushed down the stairs by him, you still shouldn't have done that. Falling off a horse is no joke. One wrong move and he could have broken his neck."
Elena Monroe's sigh drifted through the air like a whisper. "I only wanted to punish him a little. I didn't expect him to get hurt this badly. And I've already made amends," Elena Monroe continued. "These past few days, I've given him everything he could possibly want. I've more than compensated him. Besides, he's fine now. This matter ends here. No one should bring it up again."
In that moment, I felt a bone-deep chill instantly engulfing my entire body. So it was all to get revenge for Dylan Monroe. She'd deliberately cut my saddle strap. Her attentive care over these past days had been nothing more than calculated compensation. Not because she cared that I was hurt.
I clenched my fists, my knuckles cracking audibly, but I didn't feel the pain, because my heart hurt so much more.
The next day, I checked myself out immediately.