Dayana Stone fought to catch her breath, her fingers gripping the fabric of her coat so hard they left marks on her palms. It was one thing to be unloved—but why did he have to make her suffer like this?

When she’d pulled herself together, Dayana lifted her gaze to Carter Munoz and gave him a sardonic smile. “Carter, just because I have feelings for you doesn’t give you the right to walk all over me.”

Carter looked momentarily surprised, caught off guard by a smile he hadn’t expected. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and she dropped her gaze again.

Loosening his tie, Carter stubbed out his cigarette. Dayana had changed—whether he wanted to admit it or not. The vibrant smile he remembered was gone.

Like a vase knocked from its stand, her bloom had wilted. It shouldn’t have mattered to him. And yet it did. Why was it getting under his skin like this?

Pushing aside the thoughts churning in his head, he reminded her, “It’s Nora’s birthday soon. I’ll take you back to the family, but remember—behave yourself. Nora is different from you.”

The words stung. To him, Nora was a precious rose; Dayana wasn’t even worthy of being the leaves around it.

An hour later, Zaiden Daniels drove Dayana to the family mansion.

Inside, the grand hall was buzzing. Nora wasn’t their biological daughter, yet the family threw her a lavish birthday every year—a display of their standing in high society and their unwavering support for her.

The social elite had all received invitations and turned out in full force. In the hall, a group of society women gathered, trading gossip about the upper crust.

“I thought Nora wasn’t their biological daughter. So why is she the favorite? There’s got to be more to it, right?” one asked curiously.

“She’s talented,” another added. “That’s what counts in our circle. Blood isn’t the be-all and end-all—it’s about what you bring to the family.”

A young woman nodded. “I heard Nora landed several major contracts in six months at the company. The family was thrilled—promoted her to assistant director and started grooming her as an heir.”

“True, but she’s still an outsider. The family is practically handing her the company. What about her real parents? Why hasn’t she gone back to them?” another wondered.

“They haven’t been found,” said one of the better-informed women. “Which is strange. Technically, the woman who raised Dayana should be Nora’s mother, but the DNA test proved she isn’t.”

Dayana overheard and clenched her fists. She still couldn’t understand why Nora and her foster mother had no blood relation. She’d suspected her foster mother had switched them to give her real child a better life. But Nora wasn’t even her daughter. What had gone wrong in this tangled story was still a mystery.

In the end, her foster mother had lost a daughter, Dayana had returned to the family, and Nora’s origins were still uncertain. But the couple had raised Nora for over twenty years and treated her like their own—if not better.

As the society women talked, their eyes drifted to Dayana. Feeling their stares, she lowered her head and hurried out of the hall.

Once she was gone, the woman who’d started the conversation said, “Did you see the one who just left? She kind of looked like Dayana, didn’t she?”

The others followed her gaze. “Dayana? No way. Remember how stunning Dayana was—slim and elegant? The woman we just saw was all skin and bones. Definitely not her. You’ve got to be joking.”

It was true: Dayana had a presence that made her stand out effortlessly, even in a crowd of beauties. But the woman they’d just glimpsed had been utterly unremarkable.

Unaware that she was the topic of conversation, Dayana reached a second-floor room and was about to step inside. But the voices inside stopped her cold, sending a chill through her.

“So it’s true? Dayana’s out of prison?” someone inside asked in disbelief.

“Dayana? The one who always hung around Carter? When did she go to prison? What happened?” another voice asked, curious.

To protect the family’s image, Dayana’s prison time had been kept secret; the official story was that she’d gone abroad to study.

Carter shot the speaker a cold look, and the man awkwardly corrected himself. “Oh, right. She just got back from studying abroad.”

The first speaker laughed. “Back from abroad, huh? And here I thought she was in prison. You’ve got quite a way with words.”

The man chuckled. “I’m quick-witted.”

The conversation circled back. “So Dayana’s back. Things must be interesting for you, Carter. Didn’t you get engaged three years ago? When’s the wedding?”

Dayana froze at the door as realization sank in. Her room was now a card room?

The man named Lee smirked. “Engaged? You’re kidding. Marriage is just a ball and chain. Carter’s not the type to be tied down easily.”

The wealthy heir laughed along with the rest. “Dayana really is stunning, isn’t she? She’s got the looks and the charm to be a perfect trophy wife.”

He tossed a card onto the table and needled Carter. “Still not engaged? You’re really fine with her marrying someone else? You can fool us, but don’t fool yourself, Carter.”

Carter’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “She’s damaged goods. You still like her?”

The group leaned in, curious. A flash of irritation crossed Carter’s face before he went on. “If you’re that into her, she’s all yours.”

The rich heir hesitated. “Everybody knows Dayana only has eyes for you. She’s been by your side for years. I doubt I’d get that lucky.”

Outside the room, Dayana froze, tears welling up before she could stop them.

Her feelings for Carter were an open secret in their circle.

Did he really think so little of her feelings—treating her like something he could toss aside?

A dizzying wave of betrayal hit her, stealing her breath.

Her mind dragged her back to when she was fourteen.

Her father had brought her from a tiny village to the bustling city and enrolled her in the best private school, with strict instructions to look after her sister and be sensible.

Nora Porter never acted like a sister. If anything, she led the rich kids in freezing her out.

At the age when she needed family and friends most, she was locked in a bathroom and drenched with ice-cold water.

Wind and snow raged outside while she shivered, her voice scraped raw from screaming.

It was Carter Munoz who kicked the bathroom door open.

Dayana had never forgotten that scene.

Carter stood with one foot on the steps, snowflakes swirling around him. His coat hung open and flapped in the wind, wet hair falling across his forehead, everything about him crackling with youthful energy.

“Here,” he said, and tossed her his scarf.

From that moment on, seventeen-year-old Carter Munoz became the first ray of hope in her life.

For seven long years, she followed Carter like a shadow.

But now that light had moved on to someone else. Completely. Unreachably. No longer hers.

Dayana swallowed the bitterness and made up her mind to leave…

She moved to the window, fished out a number she hadn’t dialed in years, and called it.

The phone rang twice before a voice came from behind her.

“Dayana? Three years went by that fast? You’re already out?”

Her throat tightened. She hung up and turned to see who it was.

Sheila Stone stepped closer, surprise written all over her face. “When did you get out?”

Dayana’s hard-won smile faded.

Unbelievable.

Sheila remembered Nora’s birthday but forgot the day her own daughter got out.

“You’ve gotten so thin. What happened?” Sheila frowned and looked her up and down. “A little hardship can be good for you. You need to learn not to compete with your sister or stir up family trouble. Let’s not dwell on the past. Today is your birthday and your sister’s, so behave. Change into something nice and come downstairs to celebrate your sister.”

Then, as if she’d just remembered something, she added, “Oh, while you were away these three years, your room was turned into a game room. Use your sister’s room to change. I’ll have the dress sent over.”

Dayana was led to Nora’s room and was immediately hit by the heavy perfume. Her body reacted before she could stop it.

She bolted to the bathroom and started retching.

Just then, there was a sound at the door. A maid arrived with the dress.

She gripped the sink, eyes stinging, and waited for the nausea to pass. Then she splashed water on her face and stepped out.

The maid lingered in the room, watching her.

“I’m not pregnant,” Dayana said before the maid could ask. The hard retching had left her eyes red and made her look even more fragile. “Tell Nora not to make a big deal out of this.”

The maid gave an awkward little laugh. “Oh, Miss, why would you say that? Come now, put on the dress. Madam is waiting.”

Dayana said nothing. The birthday party was for Nora. She was just an accessory.

She had no interest in pretending to be close to Nora, so she headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

She’d barely taken a bite when someone knocked.

It was the same maid. “Madam wishes to see you, Miss. Please come downstairs!”

Dayana took her time finishing her bite before looking up. “I’m not feeling well. I’d rather not go downstairs.”

The maid paused, clearly caught off guard. Her expression darkened. “Madam said today is your birthday, and the family expects you downstairs. Your absence would look bad. She also hinted that if you can’t behave, a few more years in confinement might do you good.”

Dayana Stone felt a flicker of annoyance at the maid's words, but she rose and headed for the dining room.

There, Nora Porter—elegant in a vintage-style gown—stood surrounded by a cluster of wealthy heiresses. A cup of coffee balanced between her poised fingers. She was just about to take a sip when an urgent voice cut through the chatter. "Miss Nora, don't drink that! Someone tampered with it!"

Nora startled. "What do you mean?"

The maid's gaze slid to Dayana, knowing and sharp. "I saw it with my own eyes. Miss Dayana went into the kitchen and put something in your coffee—some kind of drug, most likely."

Faces went taut.

The Porter family was all too familiar with the kidnapping three years ago. Nora had vanished after drinking drugged coffee—that was how her abductors had taken her without a sound. Hearing that her drink might have been compromised again drained the color from Nora's face. The cup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

The crash of ceramic drew curious glances from nearby guests.

Nora's eyes welled with tears. She buried her face in her mother's arms. "Mom... I'm scared..."

Her mother, Sheila Stone, knew exactly what Nora was remembering. Gently, she soothed her. "That's in the past now. Don't worry."

Then she turned to Dayana. "Haven't you learned your lesson?"

With so many guests watching, Sheila didn't dare accuse her outright—not with the family's reputation on the line. But Dayana understood the warning.

The old accusation resurfacing made Dayana want to laugh. She never thought Nora would use this again—twisting the knife in the same old wound.

"It wasn't me." Dayana's gaze flicked to the coffee pot. Nora loved coffee; the setup seemed tailor-made for her. "I did go to the kitchen, but only to grab a bite. I didn't drug her."

The maid pressed on. "But I swear I saw Miss Dayana add something. I'd stake my life on it."

With that impassioned claim, the maid looked like a defender standing up to power, and the crowd answered with murmurs and judgmental stares.

Sheila was worried about the fallout—especially since it was family business—and would have preferred to handle it privately. Yet Nora spoke up, calm as ever. "Mom, it's probably just a misunderstanding."

"Dayana spent three years reflecting and working on herself. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice—I believe she's innocent."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The revelation that the second Munoz daughter had spent time in prison—rather than studying abroad, as everyone believed—stunned the elite circle.

To these wealthy ladies, the word prison was worlds away from their lives. They understood that a mark like that could taint a reputation forever, bar her from any political ambitions, and even affect future generations.

The room buzzed with fresh gossip.

Nora suddenly covered her mouth, feigning surprise at her supposed slip. Her face filled with remorse. "Oh, I've had too much to drink. I'm babbling nonsense. Please, everyone, don't mind me. How could my sister have been in prison?"

But it was too late. Her words had landed, and the more she tried to take them back, the more the crowd believed what she'd said the first time.

"Dayana, you just got back from abroad—have you settled in with the time difference?" Nora asked, her sweet tone doing nothing to hide the tension underneath. "It's our birthday today. I've prepared a special gift for you. Shall we go see it?"

Perhaps drawn by the commotion, Carter Munoz and his friends came downstairs. They caught Nora's vulnerable act as she apologized to Dayana—eyes moist, hands fidgeting.

Dayana met Nora's eyes.

This wasn't the first time Nora had played the blameless victim—and it surely wouldn't be the last.

Dayana pressed her lips together, feeling the weight of suspicion settle around her.

Had she really done anything wrong?

Why should she be falsely accused and dragged through Nora's schemes again?

Was three years behind bars not punishment enough?

By exposing her imprisonment, wasn't Nora making it clear she meant to ruin whatever was left of Dayana's life?

Fine. Then let it all collapse.