The Obedience Trial

Before I married Gavin Whitaker, his mother put me through a so-called premarital obedience test. She made me kneel and serve tea to the entire family, so I knelt.

She made me walk barefoot across a reflexology path to prove my "resilience". I went through it.

She made me sign a prenuptial agreement stating that if we ever divorced, I would leave with nothing. I signed.

Throughout it all, Gavin watched coldly from the sidelines. All he said was, "Sienna, don’t make a big deal out of this. Just bear with it. These are our family’s rules."

I smiled and nodded, even as tears slid down my face.

The final test came without warning. His mother slapped me hard across the face.

"If you marry into this family, you need to understand what humility means."

I didn’t move.

However, upstairs in the study, where Gavin was in the middle of a video conference, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed. He clutched his face and stared at me in terror.

[System Notification: You and Gavin Whitaker have successfully bound to the Empathy Sync System. From this moment on, all harm inflicted upon the host will be experienced in full by the other party.]

The stinging pain on my face had not yet faded when Gavin Whitaker suddenly stiffened like a puppet whose strings had been cut and collapsed straight backward.

That face of his, which was always etched with arrogance and disdain, twisted with pure terror.

"Gavin!"

"Sir!"

The Whitakers' living room erupted instantly.

Screams, sobs, the crash of overturned furniture—everything collided into a chaotic, deafening mess.

I stood where I was, watching them scramble in panic as they lifted Gavin onto a stretcher and rushed him toward the ambulance.

As for the instigator of it all, his mother, Mrs. Whitaker, froze for only a heartbeat before pointing straight at my nose and exploding into curses.

"You jinx! You filthy curse!" she shrieked. "It’s all because of you! You bring disaster wherever you go! My son collapses in his own home because of you!"

I said nothing.

I only lifted my hand and lightly touched my left cheek. It was already swelling and burning hot, almost the same temperature as my heart.

The hospital’s diagnosis came quickly: acute concussion, accompanied by facial soft-tissue contusions. Cause unknown.

When Gavin finally woke up, I was the only one in the hospital room.

His gaze landed on the clear red imprint of five fingers on my face. It was the exact same impact his own cheek had felt in his memory. The confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by something dark and vicious.

"Sienna Moore," he demanded hoarsely, his voice heavy with judgment, "what did you do to me?"

I looked at him calmly. "I didn’t do anything. Your mother slapped me. Then you collapsed."

"Ridiculous." He let out a short, mocking laugh. "My mother hit you, and I’m the one who coughs up blood and passes out? Sienna,