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.

So, I was the one meant to be sacrificed.

Ezekiel studied my silence before speaking earnestly. "Dahlia, I heard about your adoptive mother, but you’re carrying the future of this family on your shoulders. The South District development project is about to be approved. If you walk away now, what if President Davis pulls out of the deal?"

"And Stephen is your child, too. Can you really bear to abandon him like this? You can’t be so selfish."

A slow smile curved my lips. "You forget, I was never a Cavendish to begin with. That name was something you forced upon me, and now I’m giving it back."

"Tessa is grown now. The burden I carried for seven years should finally shift to her. If she wants the benefits, then she should be willing to pay the price. Isn’t that how this works?"

Fury flashed in Ezekiel’s eyes before he struck me hard across the face. "A bastard like you has no conscience! I should’ve listened to Mom back then and left you to freeze to death in the snow. You ungrateful wretch!"

My birth mother was Erica Cavendish.

But my father? Just an unknown male model, selling his looks in a club.

Back then, Erica wanted revenge on her husband for his affairs, so she picked a male model at random for a single night. She never expected to end up pregnant with me.

The doctor warned her that, given her condition, an abortion might leave her unable to conceive again.

So, she kept the pregnancy a secret. And when I was born, she ordered Ezekiel, who knew the truth, to leave me in the snow to freeze to death.

But he was just a boy, too afraid to take a life. Instead, he left me on the doorstep of my adoptive mother’s house.

For twenty years, she and I lived together until Ezekiel found me again. This time, he wasn’t offering salvation. He demanded that I donate my eggs to Evie as if my body belonged to the Cavendish family.

In his mind, if not for him, I would have died long ago. Any sacrifice I made for them was only fair.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and met his gaze.

"Because of your fleeting hesitation that night, I lost seven years of my freedom. I lost all of my eggs. I can never have children of my own."

"What I owed you, I’ve already repaid."

Thinking about what Tessa had just said, I met his gaze and reminded him, “Instead of wasting time arguing with me, why don’t you go ask your dear sister? Maybe she’d be more than happy to be that replacement.”

Something flickered in Ezekiel’s eyes. A realization.

Then, without another word, he shot me a glare and stormed toward the study.

Behind me, familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway. Moments later, Carlos appeared, his presence as suffocating as ever.

I had no idea when he had stepped out, but the bodyguards trailing him were carrying several large boxes.

His gaze swept over my suitcase, his expression unreadable. Then, in that cold, measured tone of his, he said, “Are you still sulking over Stephen? He’s just a child. And besides, you were the one at fault yesterday. Stop being so stubborn.”

My fingers curled around the handle of my suitcase, but I said nothing.

“I’ve thought it over. Since you care so much about your adoptive mother, I’ll go with you to pay your respects. We’ll burn these offerings for her, fulfill your filial duty. Just don’t wear white again.”

“Also, I’ve already agreed to let Stephen call Tessa ‘Mom.’ She looks like Evie; maybe it will ease his longing for his mother.”

I almost laughed.

For seven years, Stephen had never once called me ‘Mom.’ And Carlos had never corrected him.

It turned out that the one thing I had longed for the most—all it took to receive it was a face that resembled Evie’s.

I let out a soft, bitter chuckle. “There’s no need. Once I leave, I’ll have nothing to do with the Davis family anymore. My adoptive mother has nothing to do with you, President Davis. And as for Stephen calling someone ‘Mom,’ that’s none of my concern.”

Carlos parted his lips as if to speak, but before he could, Tessa came running over, her face drained of color.

In her trembling hands, she clutched a black-and-white photo.

It was a picture of her, but her face had been defaced with lipstick, the features scribbled over until they were unrecognizable.

And scrawled across it, in bold, jagged letters, ‘Die.’