Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 407

Everyone says I’m cold by nature, impossible to get close to.

But what they don’t know is that before I turned five, I was a cheerful, outgoing child who loved to talk and laugh.

Whether I was at school or at home, I was always the center of attention, the kid everyone liked.

Everything changed after my mother died. My father brought his mistress into the house—boldly, shamelessly—and from that moment on, I became a different person. Quiet. Withdrawn. The brightness in me faded, replaced by a dark cloud that never really left.

Back then, I was too young to hide my feelings, too honest to pretend. I acted, spoke, and reacted according to whatever I felt inside.

If I felt even the slightest bit upset, I’d lash out at my father’s mistress without holding back.

Once, I even pushed her down the stairs—she lost the baby she was carrying.

I was just a child, but I threatened her with a knife once, saying, “I’m a minor. Even if I killed you, I wouldn’t go to jail.”

She hated me for it. Hated me so much she probably dreamed of killing me herself.

At first, she thought dealing with a five-year-old would be easy. She never expected I’d use my age as a shield, or that I could be so terrifying, even as a child.

After that day with the knife, she was so afraid of me that every time we crossed paths, she’d freeze, trembling like a mouse confronted by a cat.

Even my father was afraid of me. He knew I wasn’t just making threats—I really meant it. I really would act.

Back then, I was simply following my instincts, doing whatever it took to protect myself.

Anyone who hurt me, I would drag them down with me, even if it killed me.

Maybe it was this ruthlessness, this do-or-die resolve, that kept my stepmother from ever laying a finger on me. I grew up without ever suffering her abuse.

As the years passed, I learned to hide my sharp edges. I became more reserved, learned to keep my emotions buried deep.

People started saying I was mature, steady, dependable.

On the outside, I seemed gentle and polite, but only I knew the truth: when it came to my enemies, I would do whatever it took, without mercy.

My father’s mistress, terrified of me as a child, became even more fearful once I was grown.

That spark of pity grew into a burning need to know everything about her.

And when I finally uncovered her past, when I learned all the ugly truths she’d been forced to live, I realized—almost without noticing—that I’d started to fall for her.

She was like a flawless jewel, crafted by the hands of fate. Bright, smart, kind. Good at everything she tried, from academics to embroidery.

She was a true prodigy—her only misfortune was having been born into the wrong family, with every door closed to her.

Given her gifts, if she’d grown up with the Linwoods, surrounded by privilege and opportunity, there’s no doubt she would have shined on the world’s biggest stage.

But because of people like Sophia and Garnett Brown, who destroyed her life for their own selfish gain, Claire was robbed of everything she could have had.

I felt for her—sometimes so much it hurt. But I was also frustrated by her softness.

Her only flaw was her heart—too gentle, too forgiving. Even after returning to the Linwoods, she would humble herself for the slimmest hope of family affection, lowering herself again and again just to please them.

And that, perhaps, is what broke my heart most of all.