I didn’t want to be there. But I had no choice.

My father had made it clear—if I didn’t attend Yvette’s birthday celebration, he would cancel all my cards and cut off my finances until the wedding. He didn’t say it like a threat. He said it like a favor. Like he was giving me a push in the right direction.

I wore a muted emerald gown. Floor-length velvet with long sleeves that covered my still-healing shoulder. I didn’t bother with makeup. Didn’t care to impress anyone.

The party was hosted in the glass garden of the estate—a room bathed in warm chandelier light and fragrant with imported roses. The guests had already arrived, sipping champagne, dressed in couture. I stood at the entrance for a moment, invisible and unwanted.

And then I saw her.

Yvette.

She stood in the center of it all, wearing a delicate pink dress like a doll brought to life. Her hair was curled into soft waves. Her cheeks blushed from excitement. And around her neck—gleaming, bold, familiar—was my mother’s necklace.

The same one Father had yanked off me.

I clenched my fists.

She wore it like it belonged to her.

As if it hadn’t once rested on the woman who gave birth to me, raised me, and died betrayed.

But I said nothing.

I didn’t want to cause a scene—not here. Not now. I swallowed the fury and retreated to a corner, where I watched like a ghost.

The guests surrounded Yvette with gifts—Tiffany boxes, limited edition Hermès bags, the key to a new Porsche. Their praises echoed: “She’s so sweet,” “so elegant,” “the perfect daughter.”

And then, Father stepped forward.

He raised a glass. “Thank you all for being here. Tonight, we celebrate my precious daughter Yvette—who has been sweet, kind, and sensible since she was a child.”

Everyone clapped.

He didn’t mention me.

Not even once.

I wasn’t surprised.

Just... tired.

I remembered the way he used to look at me when I was a child—before Yvette, before the lies. He’d hold me high, call me his little star. My mother would smile softly beside him, her hands resting on my shoulders like wings.

That memory didn’t exist anymore.

Now, there was only Yvette.

And in the family photo they took that night, I wasn’t even in the frame.

Later, as the party wore on, the doors opened. A line of men in black entered, each holding a velvet box. One stepped forward. “Young Master Andersen sends these birthday gifts to Miss Yvette.”

The crowd gasped.

Even I froze for a moment.

Of course. Jerwin. He wasn’t just present—he was flaunting it now, even with his hidden identity.

Yvette lit up, hands to her mouth in mock shock. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this!”

The boxes were opened one by one—sapphire earrings, diamond bracelets, a rose gold watch engraved with her initials.

Someone whispered, “That’s the heir to the Andersen family, right? He must love her even though they haven’t met in person.”

And Yvette? She turned toward me.

Smiling. As if she had won. As if I had lost.

The guests clapped again, crowding around her, taking photos, showering her with more compliments than anyone could deserve.

It felt like the room was shrinking. The air too thick.

I needed to breathe.

But then, more guests gathered around Yvette. One of her friends leaned in, whispering loud enough for all to hear, “There are so many young men here today, Yvette. Is your father arranging a blind date for you? Didn’t you used to be engaged to that guy from the Hale family?”

Yvette smiled coyly, but her eyes flicked to me. “Oh, that’s been over for a long time.”

Laughter rippled through the girls.

“Well, lucky you,” the friend continued. “That guy is practically a vegetable now. Who’d want to marry into a grave?”

My chest twisted. Well, I did, just to get away from this family.

Later on, the girls asked her about her ideal man, with Jerwin around listening carefully as if he’d been willing to trade anything for whatever Yvette would say.

The girls squealed.

And I remembered.

That night, long ago—when I thought Jerwin didn’t know I was watching. He took off his shirt, and there it was.

Yvette. Tattooed over his heart.

I froze then. Pretended I didn’t see. Lied to myself. But standing here, hearing her speak those exact words—while he stood in the crowd, silent, watching her with soft eyes—

It hit me. They were always meant to be. I was the villain.

“I also want someone who would dive into the sea to find me the most precious pearl—and turn it into a necklace.”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

The music, the laughter, the way Yvette’s voice danced through the glass walls like she owned the entire world—it all clawed at me.

So I slipped out quietly, past the crowd of perfectly dressed strangers who didn’t know my name, and walked toward the garden. It was dark outside. Quiet. Just the faint hum of crickets and the wind moving through the hedges.

I sat on the bench beneath the old tree where I used to hide as a child. Back when things were simple. Back when I thought I was loved.

The cold night air wrapped around me. It was the first real thing I’d felt all day.

But peace never lasted long.

Yvette found me.

Her heels clicked softly against the stone path as she approached, fake concern in her voice.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” she asked, folding her arms like she was genuinely puzzled.

I didn’t look at her. “None of your business.”

She tilted her head. “You know... it kind of looks like you’re jealous.”

That made me laugh—dry, humorless. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “I mean, I got the party, the guests, the attention... and, let’s not forget, the favor of the Andersen family. Meanwhile, you get to marry the guy in a coma.” She grinned. “Just like Dad said. I guess it all worked out. You’re always so cold and useless.”

I turned to her, my voice low. “Be careful what you say.”

But she wasn’t done.

“And your mother?” she added, lips curling. “She was weak. She deserved what she got. Couldn’t handle the truth. Couldn’t handle the fact that Father loved someone else.”

Something snapped.

I stood. “Take it off.”

“What?”

“The necklace,” I said through clenched teeth. “It was my mother’s. Give it back.”

“Oh please, it’s just jewelry.” She rolled her eyes, grabbed it, and tugged.

The chain broke.

Pearls scattered across the stone floor like tears frozen mid-fall.

Then she slapped her. The sound cracked through the garden like thunder.

She gasped, stumbled back a step, then whimpered dramatically. “You... you hit me over a necklace?”

“I didn’t mean to!” she cried louder, more desperate, as if an audience would appear. “She hit me because I was wearing her mom’s necklace! I didn’t mean to break it!”

Footsteps thundered behind us.

Our father appeared, face red with fury. “Fatima! What the hell is going on?”

“She slapped me!” Yvette cried, running into his arms like some wounded dove. “I didn’t do anything wrong! She just went crazy!”

My father turned to me. “You slapped your sister? On her birthday?”

“She broke my mother’s necklace,” I said, still trembling. “She said—horrible things about her. About me, but I didn’t slap her! She did it herself!”

He scowled. “It was an accident. And for a necklace? You had to hit her? You’re ruining everything!”

And then—Jerwin.

His voice was quiet but sharp, cutting into me like a knife.

“Why would you hurt her, Fatima? You have everything. And you're still jealous of her?”

“Everything?” I repeated, almost laughing. “She took everything from me. My father. My personal butler and protector. My place. She wore my mother’s necklace and shattered it like it meant nothing.”

My voice cracked. “And then you—you—defend her.”

My father threw his hands up. “You’ve made a scene. You’ve embarrassed me. You’ve ruined Yvette’s birthday.”

I let out a slow breath. “So, you would really choose her over me?”

He didn’t answer but they left. All of them. I knelt on the cold stone, my dress dragging across the ground, and began picking up the beads one by one. My fingers were shaking, my throat tight.

“Mom...” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect it.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks.

“I’m gonna marry that man,” I whispered. “The one they’ve all thrown at me. The one in a hospital bed.”

A pause.

“At least if I do... I’ll finally be gone from here.”

I gathered the last pearl in my hand and held it tightly to my chest.

Lying in bed that morning, I could hear Yvette in the room next to mine. Her voice floated through the air like glitter—sweet, sparkly, shallow.

“Oh my God, look at this!” she squealed. “It’s a pearl necklace! Real, natural saltwater pearls. I read somewhere these only grow in the deepest parts of the sea.”

Her friends gasped.

“Who sent it?” one of them asked.

Yvette giggled. “There’s a card. It says, Can’t wait to meet you.”

“Do you think it’s from the Andersen family?” another asked breathlessly.

“Maybe,” Yvette said. “He’s been sending me things lately. And you saw the birthday gifts, right? Who else could afford something like this?”

“But what about Jerwin?” one of them whispered. “Didn’t he like you? And didn’t you like him?”

There was a pause. Then Yvette answered, not shy at all.

“Well... I do like him. He’s handsome, loyal, protective. But if the Andersen heir wants me? I mean, come on, who would say no to that?”

Her voice turned smug. “Best case? I marry Andersen and keep Jerwin on the side. That way I get both—a husband and a lover.”

Laughter followed.

I didn’t move from the bed. I just stared at the ceiling, letting the sound of Yvette’s fantasies sink in.

I didn’t feel anger. Not even sadness.

Just... emptiness. A numb kind of clarity.

She could have it all. Because none of it meant anything to me anymore.

I got up and walked down the hall toward Jerwin’s room. The door was half-closed. I knocked once, then pushed it open.

He was in bed, shirtless, looking pale.

“Sick?” I asked, one brow raised.

He nodded. “I wasn’t feeling well today. Couldn’t get out of bed.”

Liar. I knew the truth.

When he heard about Yvette wanting a pearl necklace, he disappeared to dive under the sea. Now the necklace was here, and he was sick.

I stared at him for a long moment. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly. “You don’t need to help me anymore.”

He blinked, confused.

I smiled faintly. “I won’t be needing you.”

Then I turned and left, my footsteps steady.

That afternoon, I received a message from my father’s assistant.

Your presence is requested at the main estate. The limousine will arrive in an hour. The funds have been deposited, and the estate is ready for you. We’ll see you soon.

So that was it. I’m finally leaving this house.

I closed my closet, zipped my suitcase, and wheeled it to the door. Before I left, I passed by Yvette’s room. The door was open, the smell of her perfume thick in the air.

Laughter again.

Jerwin was inside. Their voices blurred together in flirtation, soft laughter, quiet murmurs.

It didn’t matter anymore. I walked out without looking back.

Third Person Pov

The next morning, Jerwin stood in the hallway, confusion written all over his face. Fatima’s room was empty. The closet had been cleared out. The drawers were bare.

"Where is she?" he asked one of the maids.

"She left yesterday, sir," the maid replied, bowing her head respectfully.

His brows pulled together in a deep frown. "Left?"

Pulling out his phone, his hands trembling slightly, he dialed her number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Voicemail.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Then his phone buzzed.

A single message. Having a fun game playing a butler's son, Master Andersen?

Jerwin froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His heart raced, and his hands shook, the phone nearly slipping from his grasp.

Panic kicked in. His fingers trembled as he tried to call her again—denied.

And when he tapped the screen one more time, the message appeared in grey: Blocked.