I was twelve when the crash took Mom and Dad.

I woke up a week later in a hospital bed.

Elowen came to first much earlier. She was a year older—our adopted sister, the one my parents welcomed in when her own family couldn’t keep her. They gave her a room next to mine, new clothes, a place at the table. She fit in perfectly—quiet, polite, always smiling at the right time. But I noticed it—the flicker of envy in her eyes whenever Mom fixed my hair, whenever Dad called me “sweetheart.”

Then everything shattered that night.

Mom and Dad told her the truth—that her real parents had reached out, that they wanted her back.

She lost control. Screamed. Yanked Mom’s hair. Dug her nails into Dad’s shoulder, crying that she’d rather die than leave. The car lurched. Headlights flashed. Tires screamed. Then darkness.

When I opened my eyes, everything was white.

She was already awake. Eyes glossy, voice trembling just enough to seem weak.

“It was Kaia,” she told my brothers, Evander and Leonhart. “She went crazy in the car. She was shouting… she pulled Mom’s hair… she even said she wished they were dead.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what happened—”

“Quit lying,” Evander cut in.

“I’m telling the truth! I just—I can’t remember everything—”

Leonhart’s expression hardened. “You ‘can’t remember’ because you refuse to. You killed them. You’re a murderer.”

“I didn’t!” My voice broke. “I swear, I didn’t!”

He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. “Then who did, Kaia? Tell me—who?”

“Please, stop fighting,” Elowen sobbed softly, her shoulders shaking. “I just want us to stay together… I just want peace.”

They pulled her into their arms. My brothers—who used to lift me onto their shoulders—now stared at me like I was something that shouldn’t exist.

That was the moment I lost everything.

My name. My home. My freedom.

Evander said coldly, “From now on, you’re nothing but a servant. You exist to serve this family. You owe us your life.”

And Elowen? Sweet, fragile, trembling Elowen sat by the window, smiling through her tears.

For ten years, I scrubbed floors, signed away what was mine, and answered to a name that wasn’t mine. I learned how to move like a shadow. Elowen, meanwhile, perfected the art of erasing me in front of my brothers. She practiced looking hurt. Practiced being helpless. Learned exactly how to turn their anger toward me.

One morning, I carried tea into the sitting room. My hands trembled, the tray rattling. Elowen stood near the doorway, empty-handed, her smile too composed.

“Oh dear,” she murmured—and then she fell. Porcelain shattered. A sharp cry cut through the room.

“My wrist—please, my wrist!” she gasped, clutching it, eyes wide with flawless fear. “Kaia shoved me! She always comes in so loudly!”

“I didn’t even touch you!”

Evander rushed in. “What’s going on?”

“She hurt me, brother,” Elowen whimpered. “I tried to move, but she knocked the tray… she wanted me to fall.”

“That’s not true!”

“Don’t lie again,” Leonhart snapped. “How many times do we have to teach you a lesson?”

“Please,” Elowen whispered, glancing at me like she was terrified. “Don’t be too harsh on her… she doesn’t mean it.”

Her gentle tone broke whatever restraint they had left. They looked at me like I was something monstrous she had forgiven too many times.

“Basement tonight,” Evander ordered. “No food.”

As she passed me, her wrist suddenly steady, she leaned in. “Thanks,” she whispered, smiling where only I could see.

That night, I lay on the freezing floor, listening to her laughter seep through the walls.

…

Every few weeks, she found a new way to hurt me—never once needing to touch me.

One time, she staggered onto the porch, clutching her foot, blood soaking through her sock. “Kaia stepped on me!” she cried. “She did it again!”

“I didn’t! That’s a lie—”

“Don’t raise your voice at her,” Evander said, stepping in front of her. “Look at her—she’s trembling.”

“I’m scared of her,” Elowen whispered, tears brimming. “She waits until no one’s watching… then she hurts me.”

Leonhart’s voice was quiet but final. “No food for two days. You’ll sleep outside, Marsha. Maybe the cold will teach you obedience.”

That night, I curled beneath a thin, torn blanket as rain soaked through me. From her window, Elowen watched me shiver. In her hand, I saw the sock—stained red hours before.

After that, I stopped keeping track of how many times she broke me.

It all blurred together—the bruises, the punishments, the lies.

I learned to stay silent. To move carefully. To exist as little as possible. Elowen didn’t need to lay a hand on me. My brothers did that for her.

Every day, she became someone new.

Sometimes the frightened little sister who flinched when I entered.

Sometimes the gentle one begging Evander and Leonhart to forgive me.

But when no one else was around, she would look at me and smile—proud of everything she’d done.

One night, I tried to escape.

I waited until everyone was asleep. I didn’t take anything—just ran barefoot into the dark. I didn’t care where I’d end up. I just needed to get away.

They caught me before dawn.

Evander’s men dragged me back by my hair.

He forced me to kneel on salt the entire day.

By noon, my knees were bleeding, but he didn’t care.

Leonhart stood nearby, furious. “You think you can run?” he said. “You didn’t even hesitate after killing our parents, and now you’re trying to escape?”

“I didn’t kill them!” I cried—but Evander’s hand struck my face so hard the world spun.

Then Elowen stepped inside.

White dress. Red-rimmed eyes. Tears that looked flawless.

“Please, Evander… Leonhart,” she said in a trembling voice. “She’s still our sister. Isn’t this a bit too much?”

She sniffed softly, wiping her cheeks as if she couldn’t bear to see me like that.

And somehow, they pitied her.

I laughed, even as blood filled my mouth.

“You’re incredible, Elowen. Ever thought of acting? You’d probably win a FAMAS award.”

Evander struck me again—harder this time.

Leonhart pulled her into his arms, as if she were the one hurting.

“Please, don’t be too hard on her,” she murmured against his chest, pretending to sob. “She doesn’t mean any of it. She’s just… upset.”

I looked at them—my brothers, who once shielded me from everything, now completely blind. They didn’t see me anymore. Only the monster she had turned me into. And Elowen stood there, fake tears and all, knowing she had already won.

…

Then one day, Elowen got accepted into a fashion school in Paris—and everything inside the house shifted.

For the first time in years, there was silence.

My brothers stopped shouting. They stopped hurting me. They just… stopped noticing me at all.

No punishments. No more nights in the basement.

They looked right through me, like I didn’t exist.

Like I was nothing more than a moving shadow.

It should have felt like peace.

But silence has its own way of hurting.

I started studying in secret—late at night, when the house was asleep. Old library books. Papers I quietly took from Leonhart’s office. I didn’t even know why I was doing it. Maybe I just needed proof that I could still think.

Turns out, I learned quickly. I was good at it.

But what does being smart matter when you’re trapped somewhere you can’t leave?

Months passed like that.

The maids barely acknowledged me anymore.

“Poor girl,” one whispered once. “She used to be the young miss.”

Another scoffed. “Now look at her. Can’t even lift her head.”

A third muttered as I walked past, “If I were her, I’d have run away long ago.”

I wished I could.

Then one evening, everything changed again.

Evander called for a gathering in the dining hall. The entire house was in chaos—cleaning, rushing, voices everywhere. The chandelier was polished until it gleamed, the silverware replaced more than once.

“The Langford company is partnering with the Voss Corporation,” a maid whispered, eyes wide. “It’s a massive deal.”

I froze when I heard the next part.

“The heir himself is coming,” another added. “Darius Voss. They say he’s destroyed three companies just for crossing him.”

Even the guards seemed tense that night. The entire mansion smelled like polish—and fear.

Evander ordered me to serve wine. “Stay silent,” he warned. “Speak only if you’re spoken to.”

So I stood quietly by the wall when they arrived.

Darius Voss entered first.

Tall. Cold. His dark red eyes under the lights felt sharp enough to cut through the room. Everything went still. Even Evander seemed smaller beside him.

Leonhart laughed too loudly, trying to sound welcoming. Evander kept talking—numbers, deals, anything to impress. But Darius looked uninterested. He barely reacted, just observed them like he had already decided their worth.

When it was time for me to pour the wine, I stepped forward, trying to steady myself. My hands trembled anyway.

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met—just for a second. Maybe less. But it was enough.

He didn’t look at me like I was a servant.

He looked at me like he recognized something. Like he actually saw me.

My heart stilled.

Leonhart noticed and let out another laugh. “Ignore her, Mr. Voss. She’s just one of the servants.”

Darius didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. I had to look away before my brothers noticed how I struggled to breathe.

It was the first time in ten years that someone looked at me—and didn’t see a ghost.

Weeks went by after that night.

Darius Voss kept returning for meetings with Evander and Leonhart. He never spoke to me, never directly acknowledged me. But sometimes, I could feel it—his gaze, quiet and unreadable, watching from across the room.

Evander seemed uneasy whenever Darius was there. Leonhart, on the other hand, looked irritated—for reasons I couldn’t understand.

One afternoon, I was told to stay in the kitchen while they had a meeting. But the door wasn’t fully closed, and their voices carried through.

Darius spoke calmly. “I want her.”

The glass in my hand nearly slipped.

He… wants me?

Leonhart’s voice rose. “You can’t be serious! She’s a servant—a murderer. She killed our parents. She’s not worth your time, let alone your money.”

Darius remained unfazed. “You’ll get the billion-dollar contract if you agree.”

Silence followed. Then, after a long pause, Evander spoke. “Fine. If that’s the condition.”

Leonhart didn’t answer right away, but eventually muttered his agreement.

My stomach twisted. I didn’t understand fully—until Evander called me into the living room.

He didn’t even look at me. “Pack your things. You’re leaving with Mr. Voss.”

I froze. “Leaving…?”

Leonhart walked over and grabbed my arm, his grip painful. His voice was low, sharp. “You better behave around him. Darius doesn’t tolerate clumsy idiots. And he definitely doesn’t tolerate murderers.”

I nodded, unable to speak. His grip tightened briefly before he let go and turned away.

I went back to my room and packed what little I had. Five sets of worn-out clothes. Nothing else. No jewelry. No perfume. Not even proper shoes.

I folded them slowly, my hands shaking—not out of fear, but because I didn’t know what waited for me next.

Before leaving, I looked around one last time.

The cracked walls. The broken lamp. The thin blanket that never kept me warm.

The place that took everything from me.

Then I shut the door.

…

The drive with Darius was quiet. He sat beside me, composed, unreadable, watching my reflection in the window. I didn’t know what he saw. Maybe just a girl with nothing left.

When we arrived at his mansion, I couldn’t believe it. The air felt different—clean. The lights were soft. No shouting. No footsteps chasing me. No hatred in anyone’s eyes.

He turned to me. “No one will hurt you here.”

Something inside me broke. Tears came—real ones this time, unstoppable. I didn’t even know why I was crying… fear, relief, or maybe just hearing those words for the first time.

He stepped closer and pulled me into his arms. His chest felt warm, steady. I clutched his coat like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

Then he whispered, “If I told you I’ve fallen for you… would you believe me?”

I wanted to. I needed to.

So I nodded, still crying, my tears soaking into his shirt.

He lifted my chin and kissed me—soft at first, then deeper, more certain. It felt like warmth after years of cold.

That night, I gave him everything. In the quiet glow of his home, on the sofa, I gave him the only thing I had left—myself.

I thought it was love.

I thought it meant freedom.

But it was only the start of a different kind of prison.

Moving into Darius’s mansion felt unreal—like I had wandered into someone else’s life.

He gave me the largest room. The bed was soft, the sheets smooth as silk, the closet filled with clothes I never imagined wearing. Shoes were arranged by color, jewelry catching the light with every small movement.

Every morning, breakfast was brought straight to my door. Every evening, he returned with gifts. But he never once took me outside.

No dinners out. No parties. Not even a simple walk.

One night, I gathered the courage to ask, “Can I come with you next time?”

He just smiled, leaned closer, and kissed me instead of answering.

And just like that, my question disappeared.

The staff hardly spoke to me. Their eyes passed over me like I wasn’t there. A few offered polite smiles, most simply bowed and left. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me.

I kept telling myself it was enough. I loved him. He said I belonged to him. That should’ve been enough… right?

One evening, while holding me, Darius murmured, “Someday, I’ll make you my wife.”

I believed every word.

Our nights were always quiet. He’d pull me close, run his fingers through my hair, and stay silent. For the first time in years, I felt safe. Like maybe I finally had a place where I belonged.

When he left for Paris, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and whispered, “Wait for me.”

So I did.

Days passed. Then weeks.

No calls. No messages. Still, I waited.

Then one morning, as I was clearing my breakfast tray, I overheard the maids talking in the hallway.

“I heard Mr. Voss’s fiancée is studying in Paris,” one whispered.

The other sounded shocked. “Then what about the girl here? Kaia? I thought she was the fiancée.”

A quiet laugh followed. “No. She’s just someone to warm his bed.”

The words hit harder than anything I’d ever endured. I went back to my room, closed the door, and cried until my eyes burned dry.

The next morning, my body felt off. Heavy. The smell of food made me nauseous. Every time I stood, the room spun.

One of the maids noticed. “You should get checked,” she said.

So I went—alone. My hands trembled the entire way.

After the test, the doctor gave me a gentle smile. “You’re pregnant,” she said. “About two months.”

For a moment, everything stopped. Then my heart started racing. I clutched the paper to my chest, tears falling freely.

“He’ll be happy,” I whispered. “He has to be.”

I thanked the doctor and hurried back, holding the result like it was something precious.

Maybe this would change things. Maybe now, I’d finally matter.

When I reached the mansion, I heard voices coming from the living room.

His voice.

My heart leapt. He was back.

I ran toward it, smiling so wide it hurt.

Then I heard laughter.

A woman’s laughter.

I froze.

No… it couldn’t be. I knew that sound.

I pushed the door open.

Elowen was sitting on Darius’s lap, kissing him.

His hands rested on her waist.

They both looked up. Darius’s expression was cold—like I meant nothing. Like he didn’t even recognize me. And Elowen? She blinked, acting surprised.

“What are you doing here?”

Darius didn’t even move. “Where have you been?” he asked flatly, then added, “Go prepare drinks and snacks for my guest.”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

My voice came out small as I stared at her. “W-why are you here?”

She let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

She raised her hand, showing off a diamond ring. It glittered under the light. “I’m Darius Voss’s fiancée. See this?”

Everything inside me went cold. The room seemed to tilt.

No… that couldn’t be true.

I turned to Darius, my lips trembling. “T-tell me she’s lying.”

He didn’t even look at me. His jaw tightened, his eyes somewhere else.

The silence said everything.

Elowen stepped closer, her perfume suffocating. “Babe,” she said sweetly, turning to him, “why is that Langford servant in your house?” She pointed at me like I was nothing. “Didn’t I tell you about her? She’s the reason my parents are dead. Evander and Leonhart hate her for it. They locked her away for years. And now you bring her here? That hurts, Darius. It really does.”

My throat tightened. I could barely breathe.

Each word felt like it was tearing through me.

I waited—just one word from him. Anything.

But Darius only sighed. His voice was cold. Detached. “Elowen, relax. I only brought her here to keep my bed warm. Nothing more.”

My knees weakened. My hands trembled.

The words didn’t feel real.

So that was all I was.

The maid had been right.

The man I thought had saved me—the one who promised me safety, a future—was no different from the rest.

“Oh… I see,” Elowen said, tilting her head like she understood. “You’re a man. You have your needs. Fine.”

She walked up to him, grabbed his collar, and kissed him right in front of me—slow, deliberate.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even look away.

When she pulled back, she turned to me, her eyes burning.

“You bitch,” she hissed—

And before I could react, her hand struck my face.

SLAP!