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!

The sound rang through the room.

I staggered back, one hand pressed to my cheek, the sting spreading deep under my skin.

“Out of everyone, it had to be you?” she yelled.

I tried to speak—anything at all—but nothing came out. Only tears.

Elowen lifted her hand again, ready to strike, but Darius caught her wrist mid-air. “That’s enough,” he said sharply. Then his eyes shifted to me, empty and unreadable. “Kaia, go to your room. Don’t come downstairs unless I say so.”

My voice wouldn’t come back.

I could only nod and turn away, still holding my cheek.

Each step up the stairs felt heavy, like I was walking through water.

When I reached my room, I sat at the edge of the bed, my body trembling. A folded paper slipped from my pocket—the sonogram.

I stared at it for a long time, my vision blurring.

“Our baby,” I whispered.

And then everything broke.

I cried until I couldn’t breathe, until the world outside faded into nothing. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart shattering—while downstairs, I knew Elowen was probably clinging to him again, pretending to cry.

And he was letting her.

…

When I woke up, my eyes were swollen, my chest aching like I had nothing left inside.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains—soft, almost gentle—but it felt wrong. Too normal. Like nothing had happened.

I pushed myself up, head pounding—then I saw her.

Elowen.

Sitting on the couch like she owned the place, legs crossed, calm and satisfied, holding something between her fingers.

It took me a second to realize what it was.

The folded paper.

My sonogram.

“Well,” she said lightly, spinning it between her fingers, “looks like you’re pregnant.”

I froze. My heart dropped.

“Give it back,” I said quietly.

She smiled, slow and sharp, like she had caught something helpless. “Not yet. I want to tell you a story first. It’s a good one—you’ll enjoy it.”

“I said give it back.”

She ignored me completely, leaning back with that same glint in her eyes.

“You always thought you had everything, didn’t you, Kaia? Always loved. Always lucky. Want to know how I became his fiancée?”

I stayed silent. I didn’t want to hear any of it. But she continued anyway, her voice smooth and cruel.

“Two weeks ago, my brothers told me Darius took you. Leonhart and Evander—remember them? They said you were living here, that he was protecting you.” She let out a laugh that sounded wrong. “Can you imagine how that felt? You, the nobody Langford girl, suddenly in his arms.”

She stood and started pacing, like she was telling some casual story. “You were always the favorite. Even when we were kids. So I decided to take everything that was yours.”

She paused, turning to me with that practiced smile. “Leonhart told me Darius was going to Paris for business. I begged for an introduction. I made sure I looked perfect that night. You should’ve seen me—white silk, tears in my eyes, like some broken angel. Men fall faster when they think they’re saving someone.”

I stared down, trying not to cry, but my chest tightened again.

She chuckled softly. “You know what made it work? The shooting. Oh, Kaia, it was perfect. Leonhart hired men to stage it. I made sure Darius saw everything—the guns, the chaos. I pretended to protect him, even fell to the ground. Fake blood everywhere. I looked like a hero. He carried me all the way to the hospital, you know? Stayed there the whole night.”

Her eyes lit up at the memory. “When I woke up, he told me I saved his life. Said he owed me everything. So I told him what I wanted.”

She stepped closer, slow and deliberate, then crouched in front of me. “I told him I wanted him. I wanted to be his.”

I just stared at her. None of it felt real anymore.

Her smile widened, sharp and satisfied. “He gave me this ring. Promised me everything. All because he thought I took a bullet for him. Guilt is such a useful thing, don’t you think?”

Something inside me snapped.

I started laughing. Quiet at first—then louder. It came out wrong, broken, like I didn’t know how to stop.

Her smile faltered. “What’s so funny?”

I wiped my face, still laughing through the tears. “That’s it? Fake blood? A staged attack? That’s all it took for you to get him?”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t laugh at me.”

But I couldn’t stop. It hurt, but I kept going. “You can have him,” I said softly. “I don’t care anymore.”

Her expression shifted. The anger faded, replaced by something colder. She tilted her head, smiling again—soft, almost gentle. But her eyes stayed the same.

I recognized that look.

I stood quickly, stepping back. “What are you doing?”

She moved closer. “You’re pregnant. I’m his fiancée—the one who saved him.” Her smile deepened. “Let’s see who he chooses to save first.”

Before I could react, she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened.

“Let go of me, Elowen!”

Suddenly, her voice changed—loud, shaking, like she was the victim. “Kaia! Stop! You’re hurting me! Why do you always hurt me?”

“I said let go—”

Before I could finish, she staggered backward, still holding onto me. My foot slipped at the edge of the stairs.

Everything happened too fast.

Her scream echoed through the house. “Kaia! Please—don’t hurt me!”

And then—

We fell.