As I stood shivering, drenched and humiliated, Noah took off his coat and began walking toward me.

But a few steps away, Fiona suddenly sneezed. Instantly, he turned back, draping his coat over her shoulders and holding her hands close to his chest to warm them. My brother quickly instructed the housekeeper to prepare ginger tea for her.

I let out a bitter laugh and trudged back to my room alone, ignoring the cold that seeped through my soaked clothes. After what felt like hours, Noah entered my room, carrying a bowl of ginger tea that had already gone cold.

"Lauren, I know you’re my childhood sweetheart and fiancée," he began, his tone heavy with supposed guilt. "But Fiona sacrificed herself for your sake… I can let you stay by my side, but the title of Mrs. Radford will only ever belong to Fiona. It’s what we owe her."

I stared at him; the man who once swore to love me for a lifetime was now reduced to a stranger spouting lies. The sheer irony made me laugh inwardly.

Be Davian Sinclair’s mistress to repay the Hartley Family for raising me? Fine.

But to become Noah’s mistress, for what? For love?

The bond we shared as childhood sweethearts had shattered the moment he chose Fiona over me. I swallowed my pride, pointed at the door and demanded he leave.

Noah didn’t move, but Fiona waltzed into the room with a bright smile.

"Lauren, are you still mad? My two brothers acted impulsively earlier, but only because they wanted to stand up for me. We’re family—why hold grudges over something so trivial?" Her voice dripped with faux innocence as she stepped closer.

"Here, let me feed you the ginger tea. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold."

Before I could react, Fiona reached for the spoon in my hand. In the tussle, a few drops of the tea splashed onto her hand. She gasped dramatically, her eyes welling with tears as she looked at me accusingly.

"Why do you hate me so much, sister? I know I’m just a driver’s daughter and don’t deserve to be a Hartley Family foster child, but I’ll leave soon. I won’t threaten your place in their hearts anymore—why keep making things difficult for me?"

"Enough, Lauren!" Noah exploded, shoving me aside. "Fiona’s already suffered enough! Why can’t you just leave her alone?"

Noah pushed me away with one hand. My feet were unsteady; I stumbled and fell to the floor, shards of broken porcelain embedding into my hand. Blood trickled down my palm, but Noah didn’t spare me a glance. Instead, he and my brother fussed over Fiona, fretting over her nonexistent burn.

As my blood dripped onto the cold floor, I looked up to see my mother standing at the top of the staircase, her face dark with anger.

Finally, I let my frustrations spill over. "Mom…"

"Silence!" she snapped, cutting me off. She dismissed the housekeeper who tried to help me, then strode forward with a cup of tea in hand. Without hesitation, she splashed its contents onto my face.

"Fiona lost her father—she’s already suffered enough! And you still dare to bully her? What would people say about the Hartley Family if this got out?"

"Lauren, how could you repay the Hartley Family’s kindness with such ingratitude?"

The blood from my palm continued to pool on the floor, draining away the last remnants of warmth I felt for this family.

I raised my head and looked toward the living room's centerpiece—a spot that once displayed a family portrait of all of us together. Now, it held only my father’s framed photograph.

When my father was alive, I was the little princess of the capital, envied by everyone. My brother, Jason Hartley, doted on me and Noah worshipped the ground I walked on. My life was filled with luxury, jewels and endless affection.

The only hardship I ever faced was the serious illness that struck me at eighteen. Back then, my brother ignored all objections to donating his kidney to me while Noah knelt before the temple altar until his knees bled, praying for my recovery. When I finally recovered, both men were shadows of their former selves—pale, weak and drained. I still remember Noah, feverish and limping, pressing a talisman into my hand.

"As long as we’re here, Lauren, you’ll always be happy."

But now, as I sat on the cold, hard floor, bleeding and alone, that promise felt like a cruel joke.

But this happiness came to an abrupt end with a car accident.

Dad and the driver died unexpectedly.

Before his death, the driver entrusted Fiona to the Hartley Family.

To everyone's surprise, the Hartley Family suddenly fell from grace and both daughters became nothing more than commodities for sale.

Fiona moved quickly, pretending to be innocent and pitiful to win everyone’s sympathy.

They felt sorry for her, worried about the Hartley Family's reputation and feared she would suffer even the slightest hardship.

But no one cared about how difficult it was for me—having lost my father and being abandoned by everyone.

"Lauren, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and apologize to Fiona!"

My brother and Noah glared at me.

But when they saw the pool of blood on the floor, their faces froze.

Noah hesitated, stepping forward.

"I didn’t know you were hurt this badly. Let me help you."

"No need."

My cold response made him uneasy.

Suppressing his frustration, he tried to calm down.

"Stop being childish. Given the current situation of the Hartley Family, no one has the energy to pamper you."

"I’ll go buy you some handmade chocolates from East Street later. Be good, don’t make things worse."

I had always been afraid of pain and hardship. Even when I scraped my skin as a child, they would comfort me for hours. Whenever I was sick, my brother and Noah would buy me handmade chocolates from East Street to cheer me up.

My mother didn’t allow us to eat too many sweets, so we secretly broke the chocolates into three pieces.

The most significant piece was always mine.

But now, the chocolate shop on East Street has been closed for a long time. I didn’t even like chocolate anymore.

I quietly tended to my wound, then spent the rest of the day packing my things.

Looking at the familiar room, I felt a mix of emotions. This was the princess room my brother Noah had personally designed for me. It was every girl's dream.

I still remember when friends visited, their envious eyes fixed on everything.

"Lauren, you’re so lucky! This pearl necklace must have been a gift from your brother, right? It’s just like the one the British royal family wears. You truly are the little princess of the capital."

"Wow, look at this wooden sculpture! Not only is the material priceless but it was also carved by Noah Radford himself. The thoughtfulness behind it is more precious than anything else."

Every year, my brother and Noah would compete to see who could give me the most thoughtful gift. Whoever chose the most meaningful gift was like winning a contest. Of all the gifts, the one that moved me most was the wooden sculpture.

Noah had carved a figure for me. His hands, usually so graceful, were covered in scars from the effort. Some of the scars remained. Unfortunately, the scars remain, but the love and care they represented, just like everything in this room, had gathered dust.

"Lauren, move to the basement for a while and let Fiona have your room."

My brother’s voice brought me back from my memories. Before I could respond, the two of them eagerly began packing up my things. Fiona eyed my pearl necklace and reached for it. My wooden sculpture crashed to the floor and broke into two pieces. Noah casually kicked it aside. Seeing my dark expression, he quickly added,

"It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll buy you a new one later."

"Exactly, don’t overreact. Once the guest room is ready, you can move out of the basement. You just have to endure for a while. Fiona, however, will have to endure three years of humiliation for you!"

Yes, I only needed to endure for three years at the Sinclair Family.

Here, the humiliation and cold indifference felt endless. I was no longer the cherished little princess held lovingly in everyone’s hands. A fallen heiress, a mistress kept in the shadows—I wasn’t worthy of any of it anymore.

Under their stunned gazes, I threw the remaining belongings into the trash.

Everything in this house, along with the memories of old affections—I wanted none of it.

"Lauren, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? You’ve already ruined this home!"

My brother’s face was livid, but he fell silent when he noticed the photo album lying in the trash.

He had always been a perfectionist. Now, he bent down, picked up the album and carefully wiped it clean.

His tone softened, "I know the family’s situation has been hard on you, but you can’t take it out on Fiona. She’s the one who gave the Hartley Family a lifeline. She’s our benefactor."

"These are just material things. If they’re gone, I’ll buy you new ones when we have money again. But this album isn’t something to throw away out of spite."

He placed the cleaned album in my hands. That thin book chronicled the story of the three of us. From the day I was born to my first words. From playing house to our official engagement. The three of us had grown closer with time, almost becoming a real family.

But love, when too deep, becomes fragile. Too much of anything leads to destruction.

That little bit of difference was the gap that pushed us into becoming strangers to the path of never seeing each other again.

After they left, I lit the photo album on fire. Years of memories and feelings were reduced to ashes.

In the flickering flames, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Davian reminding me that our agreement’s deadline was approaching.

Attached was a link to an article with the headline:

[Sinclair Family Heir Spends Millions on a Pink Diamond Necklace for His Future Mistress.]

In the accompanying interview, Davian exuded arrogance, his expression utterly self-assured.

"If the Hartley Family is willing to offer their daughter as my mistress, the least I can do is treat her well."

The news had gone viral, sparking outrage online. But strangely, I felt calm.

I woke up early on the third day, hoping to say goodbye to my family. I saw Fiona crying in Noah’s arms when I entered the living room.

"I don’t mind suffering but can’t let the Hartley Family’s reputation be dragged down. Besides, I already have someone I love in my heart. Once I’ve helped the Hartley Family through this crisis, I’ll prove my resolve with my life!"

My brother and Noah rushed to comfort her. One swore his undying love; the other vowed to confront Davian head-on.

I didn’t interrupt. Instead, I quietly sat down and began knitting a scarf.

Davian had presented me with such a “gift.” It was only fair that I prepared something in return.

Noah shot me an annoyed glance.

"Lauren, you have time to knit a scarf? Have you seen how the internet is tearing Fiona apart? She’s an innocent girl—how is she supposed to bear this kind of humiliation?"

Fiona was "innocent."

The Hartley and Radford families were proud of each other.

That’s why he cared about the Hartley Family’s future and reputation and cared about Fiona’s well-being. But no one cared about me.

Seeing I didn’t respond, my brother grabbed the yarn from my hands. The thread scraped against my healing wound, reopening it. Blood seeped out, staining the white yarn red.

The scarf I had worked on through sleepless nights was ruined.

Tears I had suppressed for so long finally spilled over. I looked up at them, my voice trembling.

"If I were the one going to the Sinclair Family, would you be reacting like this?"

"What are you even talking about? Stop being jealous! Don’t think that knitting a scarf will make us forgive you for what you’ve done to Fiona. You—"