Destroyed Us for Your Bastard? Say Hi to Your Cellmate, Ex! - Chapter 41: Chapter 41
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Quinn stood before the Morrison mansion's main entrance.
Fresh from the hospital, her wounds still unhealed, she had lost so much weight she was barely recognizable. The oversized hospital gown hung loosely on her frame, making her look particularly pathetic.
"Stop right there!"
Before she could step inside, a sharp voice rang out. The next moment, she was roughly shoved backward, stumbling several steps and nearly falling.
"Who said you could come in?!" Mrs. Morrison stood at the doorway, her brows furrowed. "Just back from the hospital, filthy and stinking—who knows what germs you're carrying? Don't infect us!"
Quinn opened her mouth, but her throat was too dry to make a sound. She looked down at herself—her clothes were indeed wrinkled and carried the lingering smell of hospital disinfectant, but they were far from filthy or smelly.
"Mom, she just got out of the hospital. She just needs a shower..." Madelyn stood nearby, feigning concern.
"A simple shower won't clean her properly." Richard snorted coldly, his icy gaze sweeping over Quinn before he waved at a nearby security guard. "Take her outside to wash."
Before Quinn could react, two guards grabbed her arms and dragged her to the open area in front of the mansion.
"What are you doing?!" she managed to ask.
Richard didn't answer. He simply nodded to the gardener, who immediately picked up a high-pressure hose and, without hesitation, turned it on Quinn.
The ice-cold water jet slammed into her body, the tremendous pressure instantly tearing open her barely-healed wounds. The pain forced a scream from her throat.
"No, stop... what are you doing..."
She instinctively curled into herself, but the water followed her, cutting across her skin like knives, causing her to shake uncontrollably.
"Clean her thoroughly. Don't let her bring hospital filth into the house," Richard said, looking down at her with nothing but revulsion in his eyes.
Quinn bit her lip hard, her nails digging deep into her palms, but she didn't make another sound. She knew begging was pointless. For their so-called experiment, they would only escalate their cruelty.
Finally, the water stopped. Quinn was soaked through, hair plastered to her face, clothes clinging to her skin, shivering violently from the cold.
Richard walked over and casually tossed her a rag.
"Clean up this water."
Quinn numbly took the rag and silently crouched down, methodically wiping the puddles.
Madelyn stood nearby, sighing with feigned sympathy: "Richard, maybe I should help her. After all, she just got out of the hospital and she's still very weak..."
Richard laughed coldly, putting his arm around her shoulders: "Don't bother. The ground is slippery—just be careful not to fall."
"Besides," he added, "someone like her, crawling up from the gutter, is only fit to be on her knees, polishing our shoes."
Quinn's fingers tightened around the rag until her knuckles turned white, but she continued mechanically wiping the ground as if she hadn't heard his words.
By the time everything was finished, it was already evening.
Hungry and exhausted, Quinn dragged herself back to the storage closet in the remotest corner of the Morrison mansion.
Ironically, as the Morrisons' biological daughter, she'd been back for a year but didn't even have a proper bedroom.
She pushed open the door to a blast of mustiness and dust. The room contained only a crude wooden board for a bed, covered with a thin sheet and a tattered blanket.
So exhausted she couldn't even think of changing the bedding, she collapsed directly onto it.
The next second she bolted upright, an uncontrollable scream tearing from her throat.
Several cockroaches crawled out from beneath her, scattering in all directions.
Her screams alerted others in the house.
"Can't you keep quiet in the middle of the night?!" Mrs. Morrison furiously pushed open the door. Seeing the cockroaches on the bed, her face instantly turned livid. "Quinn Westerly! You filthy pauper! That stench of poverty on you is attracting vermin!"
"They weren't here before..." Quinn's voice trembled. "Someone must have put them in my bed..."
"What nonsense!" Mrs. Morrison cut her off harshly. "Who would bother putting cockroaches in your bed? You're filthy, and you're trying to shift the blame!"
Madelyn had followed and, seeing the cockroaches, immediately screamed and hid behind Richard. "Ah!"
Richard shielded her, his cold gaze falling on Quinn: "Get rid of them immediately, then disinfect her thoroughly."
The servants sprang into action, spraying insecticide throughout the storage room. The acrid smell made Quinn cough uncontrollably.
Next, two maids grabbed her and dragged her straight to the bathroom, forcing her into a tub of freshly prepared disinfectant.
"Ahhh!!"
The powerful disinfectant immediately took effect, burning sensations spreading across her skin. All her wounds felt like they were on fire. She screamed, struggling to climb out, but was roughly pushed back down by gloved servants.
"Wash thoroughly. Don't bring germs into the house!" a maid sneered, scrubbing Quinn's skin until it was raw and almost peeling before finally stopping.
By the end, Quinn didn't even have the strength to stand.
"Throw her out," Mr. Morrison coldly ordered, then instructed the servants: "Since she loves living in filth, let her sleep in the stables!"
Fresh from the hospital, her wounds still unhealed, she had lost so much weight she was barely recognizable. The oversized hospital gown hung loosely on her frame, making her look particularly pathetic.
"Stop right there!"
Before she could step inside, a sharp voice rang out. The next moment, she was roughly shoved backward, stumbling several steps and nearly falling.
"Who said you could come in?!" Mrs. Morrison stood at the doorway, her brows furrowed. "Just back from the hospital, filthy and stinking—who knows what germs you're carrying? Don't infect us!"
Quinn opened her mouth, but her throat was too dry to make a sound. She looked down at herself—her clothes were indeed wrinkled and carried the lingering smell of hospital disinfectant, but they were far from filthy or smelly.
"Mom, she just got out of the hospital. She just needs a shower..." Madelyn stood nearby, feigning concern.
"A simple shower won't clean her properly." Richard snorted coldly, his icy gaze sweeping over Quinn before he waved at a nearby security guard. "Take her outside to wash."
Before Quinn could react, two guards grabbed her arms and dragged her to the open area in front of the mansion.
"What are you doing?!" she managed to ask.
Richard didn't answer. He simply nodded to the gardener, who immediately picked up a high-pressure hose and, without hesitation, turned it on Quinn.
The ice-cold water jet slammed into her body, the tremendous pressure instantly tearing open her barely-healed wounds. The pain forced a scream from her throat.
"No, stop... what are you doing..."
She instinctively curled into herself, but the water followed her, cutting across her skin like knives, causing her to shake uncontrollably.
"Clean her thoroughly. Don't let her bring hospital filth into the house," Richard said, looking down at her with nothing but revulsion in his eyes.
Quinn bit her lip hard, her nails digging deep into her palms, but she didn't make another sound. She knew begging was pointless. For their so-called experiment, they would only escalate their cruelty.
Finally, the water stopped. Quinn was soaked through, hair plastered to her face, clothes clinging to her skin, shivering violently from the cold.
Richard walked over and casually tossed her a rag.
"Clean up this water."
Quinn numbly took the rag and silently crouched down, methodically wiping the puddles.
Madelyn stood nearby, sighing with feigned sympathy: "Richard, maybe I should help her. After all, she just got out of the hospital and she's still very weak..."
Richard laughed coldly, putting his arm around her shoulders: "Don't bother. The ground is slippery—just be careful not to fall."
"Besides," he added, "someone like her, crawling up from the gutter, is only fit to be on her knees, polishing our shoes."
Quinn's fingers tightened around the rag until her knuckles turned white, but she continued mechanically wiping the ground as if she hadn't heard his words.
By the time everything was finished, it was already evening.
Hungry and exhausted, Quinn dragged herself back to the storage closet in the remotest corner of the Morrison mansion.
Ironically, as the Morrisons' biological daughter, she'd been back for a year but didn't even have a proper bedroom.
She pushed open the door to a blast of mustiness and dust. The room contained only a crude wooden board for a bed, covered with a thin sheet and a tattered blanket.
So exhausted she couldn't even think of changing the bedding, she collapsed directly onto it.
The next second she bolted upright, an uncontrollable scream tearing from her throat.
Several cockroaches crawled out from beneath her, scattering in all directions.
Her screams alerted others in the house.
"Can't you keep quiet in the middle of the night?!" Mrs. Morrison furiously pushed open the door. Seeing the cockroaches on the bed, her face instantly turned livid. "Quinn Westerly! You filthy pauper! That stench of poverty on you is attracting vermin!"
"They weren't here before..." Quinn's voice trembled. "Someone must have put them in my bed..."
"What nonsense!" Mrs. Morrison cut her off harshly. "Who would bother putting cockroaches in your bed? You're filthy, and you're trying to shift the blame!"
Madelyn had followed and, seeing the cockroaches, immediately screamed and hid behind Richard. "Ah!"
Richard shielded her, his cold gaze falling on Quinn: "Get rid of them immediately, then disinfect her thoroughly."
The servants sprang into action, spraying insecticide throughout the storage room. The acrid smell made Quinn cough uncontrollably.
Next, two maids grabbed her and dragged her straight to the bathroom, forcing her into a tub of freshly prepared disinfectant.
"Ahhh!!"
The powerful disinfectant immediately took effect, burning sensations spreading across her skin. All her wounds felt like they were on fire. She screamed, struggling to climb out, but was roughly pushed back down by gloved servants.
"Wash thoroughly. Don't bring germs into the house!" a maid sneered, scrubbing Quinn's skin until it was raw and almost peeling before finally stopping.
By the end, Quinn didn't even have the strength to stand.
"Throw her out," Mr. Morrison coldly ordered, then instructed the servants: "Since she loves living in filth, let her sleep in the stables!"
End of Destroyed Us for Your Bastard? Say Hi to Your Cellmate, Ex! Chapter 41. Continue reading Chapter 42 or return to Destroyed Us for Your Bastard? Say Hi to Your Cellmate, Ex! book page.