They canceled my flight, so I returned to my mansion in silence. When I opened the door, I found my four-year-old daughter trembling with hunger, clutching a heavy book while my wife snapped, “If you drop it, you start over.”

She was malnourished. Anemic. Dehydrated. Physically strained from extreme exertion and food restriction.

Then the child psychologist spoke.

“Her body will recover,” she said gently. “What concerns me more is her mind. She believes eating makes her unworthy. She believes enduring pain earns love. And she thinks school is harmful—because it distracts her from ‘fixing’ herself.”

The ground seemed to vanish beneath Alexander.

Everything Stephanie had said for months… was a lie.

But the worst truth was still waiting.

PART 3

The mansion was silent when Alexander returned that night. Rain streaked the windows like it was trying to wash something rotten away.

He didn’t look for Stephanie first.

He went straight to the room.

The wooden block. The metronome. The fallen dictionary. The half-burned lavender candle.

Everything smelled like cruelty disguised as perfection.

He tore through drawers, cabinets, shelves—

until he found a black leather notebook.

On the cover:

“Swan Project.”

His stomach turned as he flipped through it.

“Day 37: trembled at 28 minutes. Increase punishment.”
“Day 52: asked for cake. Vulgar behavior. Reduce dinner.”
“Day 64: cried about school. Maintain isolation.”