Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
Peggy and Gill halted. The rest froze, not daring to move a muscle.
Everyone eyed Yunice warily, completely confused as to why Peggy would listen to her so obediently.
And even more confused-why would Owen want to marry a savage like Peggy?
Yunice rose to her feet and said, “Peggy, go upstairs to Owen’s study. On the bookshelf, bring me a whip.”
Peggy blinked at her in confusion. She didn’t know why Yunice needed a whip, but thinking Yunice might want to personally teach Mr. Terrance and his sons a lesson, she happily trotted upstairs to get it.
Owen’s face changed the moment he heard the word “whip.”
Putting together everything Yunice had done so far, he had a pretty good idea what she intended.
He immediately stepped forward to confront her. “Yunice, our father died young. These are the relatives who came out of concern for my wedding. Even if they weren’t completely respectful to you, that’s no reason to beat them! Apologize to my uncle, and let’s just put this behind us.”
He thought he was being diplomatic, but Yunice looked at him and said, “You want me to apologize to your great-uncle!”
Owen’s face fell. Yunice’s status now was far from what it used to be. Who could afford an apology from her!
“She can apologize all she wants, I don’t care!” Mr. Terrance shouted, “Owen, I got beaten in your house, along with my sons. What are you going to do about it?”
Owen furrowed his brow and tried signaling Yunice with his eyes.
As long as she backed down, this could all blow over.
But Mr. Terrance snapped, “Don’t you give her those looks! I’m not letting this go! Didn’t she ask for someone to fetch the whip herself? Fine then! Just like old times-she gets down on the floor, and you whip her twenty times. Then I’ll drop it.”
“Uncle.” For the first time, Owen showed a flicker of compassion for Yunice.
He had grown up. He wasn’t that kid anymore-willing to use his sister as a tool to earn favor from his elders.
He no longer wanted to whip Yunice.
Elsie also stepped in to plead. “Even if she’s wrong, she’s still our sister. Twenty lashes might kill her. Just do ten….”
Mr. Terrance snapped. “Twenty! Not one less. I want to see if twenty lashes really kill her!”
Gill moved to stand in front of Yunice, fists clenched. These bastards used to bully Yunice when she had no one. Now that she did, they still dared?
Mr. Terrance not only insisted Yunice be whipped-he wanted Owen to do it.
“Found it!” Peggy shouted from upstairs, holding a polished, oil-dark whip as she jogged down the stairs.
She stood before the group, holding it up.
Gill only had to glance at the whip for her eyes to go bloodshot.
In this house, probably only she and Yunice knew just how much that whip hurt.
It was almost laughable. That whip-shiny and bristling with thorns-had been a birthday gift to Owen from Elsie, back when he turned eighteen.
Elsie had said she didn’t have anything valuable to give, so she handcrafted a whip as an “art piece.”
That very whip had become the weapon used to break Yunice into submission.
Back when Gill was still working for the Saunders family, whenever Yunice got beaten, she was the only one who’d rush in to shield her. So she knew how much that whip hurt.
But even her pain was nothing compared to Yunice’s. No matter how hard she tried to protect her, the others would always pull her away. Yunice never escaped a single lash.
The physical pain aside-what hurt most was the betrayal. The hand that held the whip was her own brother’s.
Gill stared at the whip, rage in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to grab it and beat every one of them to death.
Now that Yunice had someone to back her up, they could finally fight back.
But Mr. Terrance moved faster. He snatched the whip from Peggy’s hands and shoved it into Owen’s.
“Teach her who holds power in the Saunders family! She thinks she’s above us now!”
All the relatives looked toward the Saunders family with the eagerness of spectators at a circus.
Brother against sister. A mother taking sides. The show was just getting started.
Mr. Terrance clutched the whip but noticed Owen hadn’t reached for it.
In fact, the moment Owen’s fingers brushed the whip, he recoiled as if burned.
Mr. Terrance frowned and urged, “Take it! With trash like her, you have to beat her until she obeys. Otherwise she’ll keep walking all over you! Didn’t your mother and I teach you how to manage a household? This isn’t the time to go soft! You used to be great at this-what, you’re growing up and losing your nerve now? It’s because you haven’t disciplined her that she’s gotten this bold, daring to raise her hand to her elders! If you don’t put your foot down today, you’re the one she’ll hit next!”
His words buzzed like a swarm of flies in Owen’s ears, a piercing, incessant drone. Owen snapped. “That’s enough!”
He grabbed the whip out of Mr. Terrance’s hand.
Mr. Terrance’s face lit up in triumph. Owen had finally come to his senses.
He let go of the whip, casting a smug look toward the other relatives-like he was inviting them to enjoy the show with him.
The Moore family’s only “success story” was Lily’s branch.
People envy the rich and despise the poor-especially relatives. They act like they’re rooting for you, but deep down, they can’t wait to see your life fall apart. The worse you have it, the happier they are.
But Lily and her son never understood that. All they ever did was chase their approval.
Yunice stared at the whip in Owen’s hand. Gill, visibly tense, clutched a cushion protectively in front of Yunice, clearly ready to fight him off.
Owen caught her reaction and scoffed. What did she think-that her own brother was really going to beat his sister in front of everyone with that thorn-covered whip?
Holding the whip felt like gripping a branding iron. The heat seared into his chest.
He knew that ever since bringing Yunice back from the asylum, he’d been locked in a battle of wills with her-always trying to win, to dominate her, to make her submit.
He had even hit her in fits of anger, without thinking. But those were moments of rashness, not premeditation.
Now, holding the whip, the memories stabbed at him-how he’d used it to lash Yunice and her clothes tore apart. Her back bled.
When he thought back to the image of her blood-soaked back, even he was horrified that he’d once gone that far.
All for one measly compliment from Mr. Terrance?
What the hell was Mr. Terrance anyway? Just a petty old man with a mean streak.
He’d raised two disgusting, sleazy sons. What did he know about running a family?
All he’d ever done was leverage his status as an elder, Lily’s desperation to please, and Owen’s youth to seize control of the Saunders household.
And thinking back… was Yunice even wrong that day?
All she’d done was greet Mr. Terrance-and he hadn’t heard her. But he grabbed that as an excuse to make a scene.
He said she was rude and ordered ten lashes.
But was failing to greet someone really such a grave crime?