Carlos’s gaze swept over the angry red rashes marring my skin. His expression remained indifferent.

"Stephen was a little too playful this time. I brought you allergy medicine, take it. Don’t let it ruin tonight’s banquet."

Even with his wife long gone, he hosted a grand banquet every year on her birthday, ensuring the world never forgot the woman he cherished.

For years, I had tread carefully within the Davis family, bowing to his every command without question.

The moment I swallowed the pill, the servants flanking Carlos seized me, forcing me down onto the sofa. My arms and legs were pinned, leaving me no room to struggle.

Two masked men stepped forward, one holding a cup of pigment, the other gripping a tattoo needle. Without hesitation, the needle pierced straight into the open wounds on my leg.

Agony shot through me, my vision going stark white. My breath caught in my throat as the color drained from my face.

Carlos gazed down at me, his voice laced with frost.

"Stephen may be mischievous, but you should have known better than to wear a color Evie despised on her birthday. I’ve told you before that nothing she disliked is permitted in this house."

"When you make a mistake, you must accept the consequences."

An hour later, the fresh wounds on my leg had transformed into the image of a vivid red rose. Drops of blood still oozed from the petals, making it look almost lifelike.

Red roses, Evie’s favorite flower. Her favorite color. The very same tattoo once marked her leg.

Carlos’s sharp gaze lingered on my pale face. His expression shifted, softening ever so slightly before he dismissed the others with a wave of his hand.

He knelt on one knee, his lips brushing against the rose etched into my skin. His kiss trailed upward, laced with a slow-burning desire.

"Remember, you’ll wear Evie’s favorite red dress. Be good, and I might consider returning one of your eggs. But don’t make a mistake like today again. You nearly let Stephen find out the truth. He belongs to Evie, no one else. No one will ever take her son from her."

Carlos had always been a man of control over others, over himself, over everything he touched.

So, the day I was brought into this house, he stripped me of my future. Every last egg was taken.

"A child is only mine if they come from Evie’s womb."

"The only reason I let you raise Stephen was because it was her dying wish. She wouldn't entrust him to anyone else. But you, don't even think about claiming him as yours."

His lips hovered dangerously close to the top of my thigh, but this time, I did not surrender.

I shoved him away.

"Mr. Davis, I won’t wear the dress, and I won’t be attending the banquet."

"My adoptive mother passed away today. Our contract is void. I’m leaving."

The moment the words left my lips, the heat in Carlos’s gaze turned to ice.

He rose to his feet, his expression darkening like a brewing storm.

"She was just an adoptive mother, no blood ties, nothing. If she’s dead, then she’s dead. Are you really going to mourn an outsider? Don't forget your place. The family cannot afford such humiliation!"

"Stephen may not have come from your womb, but he carries half your blood. You raised him for seven years, and now you think you can just walk away?" He let out a cold laugh. "Dahlia, you are unbelievably selfish."

His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

My status? What was I, really?

An illegitimate daughter, hidden in the shadows of my family name?

A mere caretaker hired to raise a child that was never mine?

Or the woman Stephen resented, the homewrecker he loathed to his very core?

Back then, Carlos and my half-sister were the envy of Ridgeway’s elite, an untouchable golden couple.

Their union wasn’t just a marriage; it was a merger of power, elevating the Cavendish name to the pinnacle of wealth and prestige.

Perhaps their love was so flawless that even the heavens grew resentful because fate dealt Evie a cruel hand. Born without eggs, she could never conceive a child of her own.

But she adored children. She refused to use a stranger’s egg, and her younger sister was still too young. So she turned to me, the desperate woman drowning in debt.

One million dollars. The price of my adoptive mother’s life. The price of my first child.

Then, fate struck again. Evie died unexpectedly.

Before she took her last breath, she feared for Stephen. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving him alone in this world, so she made one final wish.

She asked me to raise him.

The Cavendish family had resisted at first, but their opposition to Carlos marrying outside the family was even stronger. A union with another woman could threaten their interests, so they made their choice.

They restored my surname to Cavendish and sent me to the Davis residence.

Carlos obeyed Evie’s every word, and so, an agreement was forged. I would dedicate myself to raising Stephen and ensuring that Evie could rest in peace. In return, they covered my foster mother’s medical expenses, prolonging her life.

I was dragged to the City Hall for a perfunctory marriage registration, no ring, no vows, no ceremony. Just a signature binding me to a man who would never love me.

Seven years. Seven years of a marriage in name only, with a husband who never saw me and a child who saw me as an enemy.

I spoke evenly, my voice devoid of emotion.

“When I entered the Davis family, it was never for love; it was to save my foster mother. We both got what we wanted. Now that she’s gone, I have no reason to stay.”

I paused, then continued, “Stephen doesn’t like me. If I stay, it will only make him more miserable. That wouldn’t be good for the future heir of the Davis family, not for his emotions, not for his mind.”

Hearing that I had been considering Stephen’s best interests, Carlos’s expression finally eased.

“If you’re worried about having no one to rely on in the future,” he said, his tone almost conciliatory, “I can return your eggs to you, and we can have another child together.”

“Though this child won’t carry my surname when he grows up, I can arrange a position for him in my company. He’ll be well taken care of. And as for you—”

I cut him off, my voice cool.

“There’s no need for such generosity, President Davis.” I pulled out the signed divorce agreement and placed it before him. “Just sign it.”

Over the years, I had endured enough, the whispers, the judgment, the condescending stares, all because of my status and the way both father and son regarded me.

And now, he was offering me the chance to bear another child, one who wouldn’t even be acknowledged by his family. That would be nothing but self-inflicted humiliation.

Carlos’s patience finally snapped. With a sharp tear, he shredded the divorce agreement, his eyes dark with fury.

“Dahlia, it seems you’ve had it too easy. Are you looking for trouble?”

“Since you refuse to wear those dresses, you won’t be attending the banquet tonight either. I won’t have you disgracing the event I organized for Evie.”

A wife barred from her own household’s banquet was a blatant humiliation.

But I felt nothing.

By the time the gathering ended, the mansion was alive with laughter, the distant hum of cheerful voices seeping through the walls.

I stepped into the hallway just in time to see Carlos and Stephen, their hands intertwined with Tessa Cavendish’s, heading toward the bedroom at the far end.

Seven years had passed in the blink of an eye. The once-young daughter of the Cavendish family had grown into a woman—one who bore an uncanny resemblance to Evie.

That room had once belonged only to Carlos and Evie.

I had once entered it by mistake. My punishment? After three days of kneeling in the snow, my legs were nearly ruined.

When I finally collapsed onto my bed, my knees raw and festering, the agony eating away at me, Carlos came.

For a moment, I had foolishly thought he had softened.

But instead, his voice was cold, void of warmth.

“If it hurts, good. Maybe next time, you’ll remember not to step where you don’t belong.”

Now, Tessa, with a face eerily similar to Evie’s, had moved in effortlessly.

The servants barely concealed their disdain, their whispers cutting through the air like knives.

“Some people can struggle all they want to climb into this family, but it’s useless. Neither the president nor the young master cares for her. Imagine being married for years, yet she’s not even allowed to be inside a bedroom in her own home. Pathetic.”

“Of course. The president’s heart has always belonged to his late wife. She was nothing more than a glorified nanny brought in to raise his son. But now that the young lady of the Cavendish family has grown up and looks so much like the late wife, how could he not be swayed? It’s only a matter of time before we have a new lady of the house.”

I ignored their ridicule and turned to leave; a flash of silver streaked toward me.

A sharp sting followed.

The metal dart sliced past my skin, leaving a thin, burning trail. Warm blood trickled down, slow and deliberate.

Stephen toyed with the remaining darts in his hand, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.

"Just looking at you makes me sick! One day, I'll make sure you're disfigured. My aunt says bad women deserve to be ugly!"

The venom in his young voice should have stung, but all I could hear was an echo of the past.

I remembered when Stephen was three, burning with fever. I had stayed up for two nights straight, neither eating nor sleeping, just to take care of him.

When his fever finally broke, exhaustion weighed on me. My hair was a tangled mess, and dark circles were painted beneath my eyes, making me look like something out of a ghost story.

But he had wrapped his tiny arms around my neck, his childish voice sweet and soft.

"Auntie is the prettiest! Even prettier than a fairy!"

That memory was from another lifetime.

As he grew older, Tessa’s visits became frequent, and with each passing year, his hatred for me deepened.

I picked up the dart, rolling it between my fingers before calmly taking aim.

"Stephen, have I ever taught you that when you hurt someone, you'd better be ready to face the consequences?"

He knew my aim was deadly. I had grown up in the countryside, perfecting the art of hitting my mark, stones, birds, targets. I never missed it.

For a brief moment, fear flickered across his face. But then, stubborn as ever, he straightened his back and shouted, "You can't scare me! You seduced my dad and made my mom so angry she died! You stole her place! I have to get revenge for her; I’m not afraid of you!"

"If you’ve got the guts, kill me now! Otherwise, next time, it won’t be a dart; I’ll throw acid on you instead!"

With that, he spun on his heel and bolted into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

My hand lingered in the air, frozen in place, before I finally let out a quiet, bitter laugh. The dart slipped from my fingers and landed in the trash.

I had made this set of darts as a birthday gift for him. I never imagined they would one day be turned against me.

Suffocating under the weight of reality, I returned to my room and silently packed my belongings into a suitcase.

Laughter spilled from the bedroom at the end of the hallway, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the silence like a blade.

By morning, as I stepped outside, the sight before me drove the dagger deeper.

Tessa was playing shuttlecock with Stephen, his laughter filling the crisp morning air. His small face was flushed with excitement as he threw himself into her arms, eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Auntie, I like you. You look just like my mom, and you can even play the piano pieces she composed! You’re so much better than a certain useless fraud."

His next words came with cruel innocence, each one sharper than the last.

"Seeing you is like having my mom back. Can you marry my dad? I want him to divorce that scheming, barren woman; I want you to be my mom!"

Tessa gently wiped the sweat from his forehead, her voice soft and soothing. "Stephen, you shouldn’t say such things about others. But if your father is willing, of course, I can be your mother. Your sister in heaven would be happy, too."

Then, as if only just noticing me, she turned with a feigned look of apology. "Miss, Stephen is still young and speaks his mind. Please don’t take it to heart."

Despite sharing the same birth mother, Tessa had never once called me her sister.

Stephen shot me a glare before grabbing Tessa’s hand and pulling her toward the study, no doubt to ask Carlos to divorce me.

That suited me just fine.

Just as I was about to leave, a firm hand seized my arm.

My brother Ezekiel Cavendish’s voice was sharp and accusative. "What kind of wife are you? You can’t even hold on to your own husband? How could you let Tessa and Carlos be alone together? Thank goodness Stephen was there last night!"

"Carlos only loves Evie. Tessa looks like her; what if she catches his attention? I refuse to let my sister be anyone’s substitute."

I met his gaze; my voice calmed yet cutting. "I’m your sister too. Why is it fine for me to be trapped in a marriage where I don’t even have a place in his heart?"

Ezekiel frowned, blurting out without hesitation, "That’s different! Even if Tessa never marries, I can still ensure she lives in luxury. But if you leave the Davis family, you’ll have nothing."

So that was the truth.

He couldn’t stand the thought of Tessa being used as a replacement, yet he had no qualms about keeping me shackled for the sake of his own interests.