Charlotte didn't know how long she'd been unconscious. When her awareness returned, the first thing she felt was a sharp, throbbing pain in two intimate parts of her body—her pussy and anus felt scorched, sore, and intensely sensitive.

She sat up in bed with great effort. Her eyes immediately looked down, inspecting the painful areas. Her pussy and asshole looked red, swollen, and still bore traces of thick, dried white fluid around them. On her buttocks, the red marks from slaps were still clearly visible.

Her body instantly flushed as the memories of last night—or more accurately, the early hours of this morning—flooded her mind.

The images were vivid: herself bound, face down, in a humiliating position. The sound of harsh impacts, the feeling of a large rod forcing its way into both her holes, the piercing pain as her virginity was stolen, and then the deeper shame when her body responded with consecutive orgasms.

"Oh god... no..." she whispered, her hands covering her face.

Tears began to flow. She wasn't just crying over her virginity being taken in such a brutal way, but over a more bitter reality: she had enjoyed it. Amidst all the pain and humiliation, her body had responded with wild, uncontrollable pleasure.

She looked around the room. The window was wide open, as if her attacker had left through it. The bed was a mess with the traces of a struggle—or more accurately, a rape. Pieces of her torn tank top and underwear were scattered on the floor. On her wrists and ankles, she could still feel the marks of the bindings, though the ropes themselves were gone.

As she sobbed, a soft golden light emanated from Charlotte's body. Her healing ability as a Sacred Healer worked automatically, mending every wound, erasing every ache.

But she could feel it clearly—her pussy and asshole would never be virgin again. Healing could repair damaged tissue, but it couldn't restore a torn hymen or return physical conditions to their pre-violation state.

"Who... who would dare..." she murmured in a hoarse voice.

Her mind worked quickly. One name surfaced: Adam. He was the only man in this house. But it seemed absurd. Adam, Delilah's stepson, who used to be weak and couldn't even meet people's eyes? Could it really be him?

But the facts were undeniable: there was only one man in this house. And his sudden transformation—from a loser to a Rank A Awakener—made that possibility no longer impossible.

It was complicated. Adam was the child of her best friend. If he really did it, how could she tell Delilah? How could she face the child of someone she considered a sister?

For now, she decided she would talk to Adam first. She needed confirmation.

As she prepared to clean herself, her eyes fell on the remnants of semen in her pussy. She would take a sample for testing. If it were indeed Adam's, then she would have undeniable proof.

However, as her finger touched her pussy to collect the sample, something unexpected happened.

"Ahh..." a weak moan escaped her lips unconsciously.

Her finger, which was only meant to collect a sample, began unconsciously rubbing her swollen vaginal lips. A strange sensation spread from there—a pain mixed with pleasure, reminding her of the sensations from the night before.

"Damn..." she cursed herself, but her hand didn't stop.

She closed her eyes, trying to resist, but her body's memory was too strong. Every touch to that sensitive area awakened memories she was supposed to despise. Her body reacted, her pussy began to secrete fluid again, and without realizing it, her finger started to go deeper.

.

.

.

Charlotte emerged from the room with her heart pounding wildly. The sound of light chatter and the aroma of fried eggs and coffee filled the hallway. When she reached the threshold of the dining room, her chest felt gripped by ice.

The scene before her looked so… normal.

Delilah sat at the head of the table, wearing a simple robe, her hair tied loosely. She was feeding Adam a bite of omelet, with an unmistakably warm smile.

"Here, Adam, dear. You need to eat a lot if you want to get strong," she said in a gently teasing tone.

Gwenneth sat across from him. She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes glancing at a tablet beside her plate, occasionally chewing toast indifferently.

And Adam.

Adam sat relaxed beside Delilah. He accepted the food from his stepmother happily, and when his eyes glanced toward the door, meeting Charlotte's stunned gaze, a faint smile crossed his lips before disappearing.

"Charlie!" Delilah greeted her as soon as she saw her. "You slept so soundly. Come, join us for lunch."

Charlotte stood frozen in place. Her mind was racing. They didn't know. They truly didn't know. Or were they just incredibly good at pretending? She observed every expression, every gesture. Delilah looked as graceful as ever. Gwenneth seemed normal, even a little bored. And Adam…

"Good afternoon, Auntie," Adam greeted, his voice flat and polite. "Please join us."

That smile earlier. It was just a glimpse, but for Charlotte, who was on high alert, she couldn't ignore it. But when she looked deeper, searching for darkness in Adam's eyes, all she saw was the impression of a slightly shy and polite young man. Doubt began to creep in. Was it possible… it wasn't him? Could it have been someone else?

"Charlotte? Why do you look so pale? Still hungover?" asked Delilah, her face starting to show genuine concern.

"I… I'm fine," Charlotte mumbled, her voice hoarse. She forced her feet to step forward; her chair creaked as she sat in the provided seat, directly across from Adam.

"You must be hungry," Gwenneth chimed in. "Eat before it gets cold."

Charlotte nodded stiffly, her hands gripping her own lap tightly under the table. Her mind was in turmoil. She had to ask. Right now.

"Adam," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the light chatter about the weather. All eyes turned to her. "There's… something important I need to talk to you about. Alone."

The atmosphere at the table changed instantly. Delilah stopped scooping, her eyebrows raised in question. "What is it, Charlie? Why alone? What's the matter? Just talk about it here."

Adam leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. His expression was innocent, full of confusion. "Yes, Auntie. About what? Is something wrong? You look very tense."

His innocent act was almost perfect. It almost made Charlotte believe she was the one mistaken, the one hallucinating.

"It's not… not something that can be discussed in public," Charlotte stammered, her teeth gritting unconsciously. She felt pressure at her temples.

"But this isn't a public place, Charlie," Delilah replied softly, yet her tone carried a hint of insistence. "This is our home. You're part of the family. Whatever it is, we can discuss it together."

Adam nodded, his eyes still fixed on Charlotte with the gaze of a good man that infuriated her even more. "Did you have a nightmare? Or did something suspicious happen last night? The guest room can get stuffy if the window is closed."

"It's not… not that," Charlotte hissed, panic beginning to spread. "I just need… confirmation about something. From you."

"Confirmation of what?" Adam asked directly, his attitude seemingly open to dialogue. "Please, ask now."

Now all eyes—Delilah's full of questions, Gwenneth's now curious as well, and Adam's innocent ones—were fixed on her. The pressure was immense. She couldn't say it. Not here. Not without concrete proof. Her words would sound like crazy accusations against her best friend's child.

"I…," Charlotte took a deep breath. "I need to go to the bathroom first. My head is spinning."

She stood up so quickly.

"Excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and almost ran out of the dining room, leaving the three family members momentarily silent before Delilah let out a worried sigh.

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