Chapter 3You Can’t Escape

After a scene like that, school was out of the question for a while. I decided to take Vivian straight home.

As we settled into the car, I noticed her school uniform was so old it had faded. I frowned.

This was a private academy; uniforms weren’t mandatory. The campus was full of girls dressed in the latest fashions.

But Vivian wore this same old uniform, day in and day out.

I understood why. Her whole life, she had attracted unwanted male attention, and so she deliberately avoided anything that might make her stand out.

But I refused to accept that retreat.

“Come here.”

I gently pulled Vivian closer. Her body was frail, almost bird-like. She looked malnourished.

The damned novel, in its quest to make the heroine "delicate and easily overpowered," had made the poor girl far too thin.

“Change of plans,” I told the driver. “Take us to the Grandview Plaza.”

Vivian looked at me, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. “Mom, what are we doing there?”

“Buying you some new clothes.” I saw her avoid my gaze and took her hand in mine. “You can’t wear that old uniform forever.”

Half an hour later, we were in a high-end boutique.

Vivian stared at the racks of colorful dresses, a clear longing in her eyes, but she didn’t dare touch a thing.

“Try this one.”

I took a daffodil-yellow dress from the rack. The collar was adorned with tiny, delicate pearls.

She hesitated before taking it and followed the sales associate to the fitting room.

When she emerged, shy and uncertain, I couldn't help but smile. The warm color beautifully complemented her fair skin, and the cut was elegant and classic.

But Vivian kept tugging at the hem, her eyes darting around nervously.

“It’s too bright… Won’t it attract too much attention?” she whispered.

I walked to her side, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “It’s beautiful, Vivian. You deserve all the beautiful things in the world.”

“But…” She looked down. “The boys… they always say such awful things…”

“Then let them talk.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, making her look at our reflection. “Look. There is nothing wrong with this dress. It is beautiful. The problem is with the people who look at you with filth in their eyes.”

Vivian stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes turning red.

Suddenly, she spun around and threw her arms around me, her voice choked with sobs. “Mom, I’m scared… I never know what to do…”

Feeling her thin frame tremble in my arms, I stroked her hair, a new resolve hardening within me.

“Don’t be afraid,” I said softly. “Mom will teach you how to protect yourself.”

The next day, I took her to the best combat training gym in the city.

If this world was determined to be cruel, then I would teach my daughter how to fight back, beautifully.