I had imagined my grief would settle. That by the time I sat in the car beside Chase, my heart wouldn’t feel like it was unraveling thread by thread.

But I had been wrong.

The weight of what I had seen in his study pressed against my ribs like an iron cage. I sat stiffly, my hands folded neatly in my lap, nails digging into my palms. The polished car interior reflected our faces—Chase, relaxed, eyes flicking lazily between his phone and the road ahead, and me, silent, barely breathing, a ghost of myself.

I should have spoken. I should have asked him about the shrine of Camille in his study, about the love letters, about the contract that would hand over everything he had built to her.

But I said nothing.

Because I already knew the answer.

Chase had never been mine.

"You're quiet tonight." His voice broke the silence, smooth as ever. He didn’t sound concerned, just observant.

I forced a small smile, just like I always did. "Just tired."

He hummed as if he accepted that answer, then reached for my hand. I let him, though the warmth of his palm felt like a betrayal now.

The mansion loomed ahead, golden lights spilling from every grand window. As the car pulled to a stop, I exhaled softly, smoothing down my dress. This was Camille’s world—the one where I had always been an afterthought.

Chase stepped out first, rounding the car to open my door. A perfect gentleman. A perfect lie.

I let him take my hand as I stepped out. Inside, the party was in full swing—chatter and laughter filling the air, a string quartet playing softly in the corner. Camille stood at the heart of it all, glowing beneath the grand chandelier, her gown shimmering with every graceful movement.

She looked like she belonged here.

And I looked like I was borrowing time.

“Sweetheart!” My mother’s voice rang out, bright and full of warmth—directed at Camille, of course. She cupped Camille’s face between her hands, eyes glassy with adoration. My father stood beside them, pride evident in the way he beamed.

My stomach twisted.

They had once looked at me like that.

When Camille had been missing, I had been their everything. They had doted on me, held me close, whispered promises that I would never be alone.

But the moment she returned, I ceased to exist.

Camille turned, spotting me. Her lips curved into a smile, so soft, so sweet—so full of knives.

“Sis, Miracle,” she murmured, stepping forward to take my hands. “You look lovely tonight.”

I wanted to pull away, but I didn’t. I simply smiled, letting her squeeze my fingers as if we were just two sisters reunited for a celebration.

But I remembered.

I remembered the way she had looked at me ten years ago when she was first brought home.

The way her lips had trembled, the way her voice had cracked.

"Sis, what did I do wrong? Why did you let them kidnap me?"

Even now, the words struck like a blade, sinking deep beneath my skin.

She had hated me from that moment.

And I had spent years trying to understand why.

Chase’s hand landed on my waist, grounding me. His presence, his touch—it had once been my comfort, my shield.

Now, it only reminded me of the photographs on his wall.

The night went on, a blur of polite conversations and practiced smiles. I stood beside Chase as he played his part—Camille’s charming brother-in-law, the man my parents trusted more than they trusted me.

At some point, Chase excused himself. Camille was quick to take his place.

"You seem quiet," she mused, swirling the champagne in her glass. "Is something wrong?"

I studied her. Camille had always been skilled at wearing concern like a mask.

"I'm fine," I said softly.

She tilted her head, her smile deepening. "Really? I would have thought you'd be... unsettled."

I stiffened. "Why would I be?"

She took a slow sip of her drink, eyes glinting over the rim. “Because, dear sister, I know you went into Chase’s study.”

My breath caught.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the music more distant.

Camille’s fingers trailed along the rim of her glass. "What did you think? Quite the collection, isn’t it?"

I swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would he marry me if he—if you—" The words stuck.

Camille sighed, almost pitying. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, leaning in just slightly. "You’re not his lover. You’re his insurance."

The world tilted beneath me.

Camille took a final sip of her champagne, then pressed the glass into my hands. "Be a dear and hold that for me." Then, with a soft, amused hum, she glided away—toward Chase.

And I watched, helpless, as he smiled when she approached.

I should have left. I should have turned away and let the night swallow me whole.

But something inside me—some desperate, aching part—needed proof.

So, I followed them.

The mansion’s grand doors were slightly ajar, leading out into the chilled night air. I slipped through unnoticed, the breeze biting against my skin.

And there, beneath the dim glow of the streetlights, I saw them.

Chase and Camille.

Standing close. Too close.

Her fingers curled against his chest, his hand resting lightly on her waist. And then—

He kissed her.

Not a fleeting touch. Not a mistake.

A real, deep, lingering kiss.

Like a man starved.

I pressed a hand against my stomach, nausea curling in my throat. My vision blurred.

I had known.

I had known.

But knowing and seeing were two different kinds of agony.

I felt the world tilt the moment I stepped into that ballroom. The scent of expensive champagne, the low hum of string music, the glittering chandeliers—it was all overwhelming. But nothing rattled me more than the sight of my parents standing at the center of it all, beaming at Camille like she was the greatest treasure they'd ever received.

I shouldn't have come.

Chase had told me to smile, to be polite, to keep up appearances. He had given me a cursory glance before we stepped out of the car, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight.”

That was all he had said. No warmth, no concern, just a reminder that I was here for one reason—to be seen, but never truly acknowledged.

I kept my hands clasped tightly together as we made our way through the room. Camille turned at just the right moment, as if she had been waiting for this entrance, for this moment of staged perfection. She looked breathtaking, wrapped in a dress that shimmered like liquid gold under the soft glow of the chandeliers. Her smile was slow, practiced, just the right amount of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, sister,” she breathed, taking a few graceful steps toward me. “You actually made it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words sat heavy on my tongue, tangled and impossible. My heartbeat thrummed against my ribs. Chase had already stepped ahead, answering for me.

“Of course we came. It’s your big night.” His voice was effortlessly smooth, his hand reaching into his pocket.

Camille’s eyes gleamed with anticipation before he had even presented the small, velvet box. I already knew what was inside before she had even opened it. A delicate silver bracelet, one I had seen in old photographs of Chase’s mother. An heirloom passed down through generations of the Knight family.

He had told me it was lost.

I had asked about it once, early in our marriage, when I still believed in the illusion of love between us. I remembered the way he had brushed off my question with a lazy shrug, his lips curving into a faint, dismissive smile.

“Just an old piece of jewelry,” he had said. “Nothing important.”

But it was important. Just not to me.

Camille gasped softly as she lifted the bracelet into the light. “Chase, this is beautiful.”

He smiled at her in a way he had never smiled at me. “It suits you.”

My fingers twitched at my sides. I felt unsteady, like I had wandered onto a stage where everyone else knew their lines except me. I turned quickly, my voice barely above a whisper. “N-Need air.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I slipped away from the crowd, moving toward the garden, where the cool air pressed against my skin like a balm. The estate grounds were just as grand as I remembered—pristine hedges, marble fountains, flowers blooming in curated perfection. I clutched the railing of the balcony that overlooked the pool, staring at my trembling hands.

This wasn’t new. I had long since learned how to stomach heartbreak in silence. But tonight, it felt unbearable.

“Running away already?”

Camille’s voice drifted through the night air, as soft as silk and just as suffocating. I didn’t turn to face her. I didn’t need to.

She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and sweet. “It’s pathetic, you know.”

My fingers curled around the railing. I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “D-Don’t…” The word came out fragile, unsteady.

Camille only laughed. “Don’t what? Tell the truth?” She leaned in, her voice dropping lower. “You must be the most oblivious woman alive. Did you really think Chase married you out of love?”

I stiffened.

She sighed dramatically. “He needed to keep Michael under control. You were a convenient way to do it. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. The words jumbled together, twisting, turning, pressing against my skull.

Camille hummed. “No? Still in denial? Fine, I’ll spell it out for you. Chase never wanted you. He belongs to someone else—always has.”

I wanted to say something—anything—but my throat burned, my thoughts tangled beyond repair.

Camille reached for my wrist, her nails pressing into my skin. “You should just leave, Mia. Leave before you embarrass yourself even more.”

I yanked my arm back, my breath uneven. “S-Stop.”

She tilted her head, watching me struggle to force out the word. Her smirk deepened. “You’re so weak,” she murmured. Then, without another word, she stepped back—stepped up onto the stone ledge overlooking the pool.

And then she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

I barely had time to react before she flung herself backward, crashing into the water with a dramatic splash. The noise shattered the quiet, sent ripples of panic through the air.

Within seconds, voices called out, hurried footsteps echoing against the marble. The doors burst open, and people rushed forward.

Chase was the first to reach the pool’s edge. His face twisted in alarm as he pulled off his jacket, ready to jump in.

Camille surfaced, gasping for air, her hands thrashing. “Mia—she pushed me!”

The words slammed into me like a fist.

My breath caught. My stomach twisted violently. “N-No, I—”

“She pushed me!” Camille’s sobs were choked, her voice trembling. “I was just trying to talk to her, and she—she shoved me in!”

I took a step back, shaking my head. “T-That’s… n-not…” The words wouldn’t come out right. They never did when I needed them most.

Camille reached toward Chase. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “I thought I was going to drown.”

Chase didn’t look at me. Not even once. He pulled Camille into his arms, his voice low, soothing. “You’re safe now.”

The whispers started, soft but growing. The murmurs of the guests, the judgment in their eyes.

I turned on unsteady feet, my heart hammering against my ribs. I needed to leave. I needed to get out of there.

But as I moved toward the front of the house, I saw something that stopped me cold.

Through the blur of tears, beyond the marble steps, Chase was walking toward a sleek black car parked by the entrance. And he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood by the open door, waiting. Chase’s hand touched her waist, a slow, intimate motion. She tilted her head up, her lips parting in a soft smile.

And then he kissed her.

A deep, unhurried kiss, filled with something I had never once seen in his gaze when he looked at me.

I stared, the weight of realization settling like a stone in my stomach.

He had never been mine. Not for a single moment.

And she kissed him back.

Not a secret. Not a mistake.

A promise. Chase was trying to punish me for God knows what. Why he kept touching Camille in front of me could only mean punishment.

Twice tonight he has kissed her without a care in the world.

I felt something inside me crack.

I stood there, frozen, as Chase pulled away and murmured something to her—something soft, something gentle—before opening the car door for her.

She slid inside effortlessly.

Then, without a single glance in my direction, Chase followed.

The engine hummed to life.

And just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me alone in the cold.

Alone with the truth I had been too blind to see. I Needed to leave.

The room was cold. I couldn’t feel my hands anymore as I clutched the podium. My chest felt like it was going to burst. The guests stared at me, waiting for me to say something—anything. I could already hear Camille’s voice in my head, sweet and innocent, like she always played it.

“You owe me an apology, Miracle,” Camille had said earlier. Her eyes, full of fake hurt, shone under the bright lights. “You pushed me. I’ve been hurt so much by you, and all I wanted was to help.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them all the truth—that she had tripped, that it wasn’t my fault. But I couldn’t. Chase was behind me, his face hard, staring at the guests. I didn’t dare look at him. He’d already made it clear what would happen if I didn’t do this.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out at first. My throat tightened, my words stuck. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide from all of them. Camille was standing next to me, her hand on my arm, pretending to console me. It made me want to throw up.

“I… I’m sorry, everyone,” I finally forced myself to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” The words felt foreign, like I wasn’t even speaking them. I could feel the eyes on me, and every inch of my skin burned with humiliation.

Chase’s hand on my back was cold, and it made my body tense. I could feel the weight of his anger. Camille squeezed my arm tighter, her nails digging into my skin. I tried not to flinch. I didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

The room was silent for a moment before a few people murmured, and I was dismissed. Camille took my arm and led me out, her head held high, looking proud of herself. I hated her. I hated how she always managed to twist everything to her advantage.

As soon as we left the room, Chase turned to me. His eyes were dark, and his voice low. “You’re lucky I’m still keeping you around,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

I couldn’t even reply. My mouth was dry, and I just nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Camille’s smug smile was the last thing I saw before they walked away. It felt like my entire world was crashing down, and I didn’t even know how to stop it.

That night, the house felt emptier than usual. I was alone. The silence echoed in the hallways. My feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of Chase’s study. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see the glow of the desk lamp through the crack.

I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t be sneaking around, but my heart pounded, and I couldn’t help myself. I pushed the door open just a little wider and stepped inside.

The room smelled like leather and whiskey. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, reminding me of him. I didn’t want to think about him, but it was hard not to. Everything about this house was about him—his rules, his control. I hated it. I hated him.

I glanced at the desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, and there, at the edge, a folder caught my eye. It was thick, marked with something I couldn’t quite read from where I stood. I walked closer, my hands shaking. The first paper I pulled out made my stomach drop.

Financial transactions. Large sums of money, moving into offshore accounts. Camille’s name was listed. I froze. My heart pounded in my chest. What was this? What was she doing?

I flipped through the papers quickly, trying to understand, but the more I saw, the worse it got. These weren’t just business deals. There were connections—names I didn’t recognize. Leon Romano. The rival Mafia boss. Camille’s name was tied to his in more ways than I cared to count.

I stumbled back, almost knocking over a glass. My breath came in ragged gasps. My mind was racing. Camille wasn’t just playing Chase. She was playing him and everyone else.

I had to get out of here. My mind screamed for me to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed to know more. I had to find out everything.

The door creaked open behind me. I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach as I turned around. Michael stood there, his eyes dark and intense. He was always calm, but there was something different in his gaze tonight.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. My hand was still clutching the papers. I couldn’t let them go. “I found something,” I whispered.

He stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned the desk, and I saw his jaw tighten. “Chase is preparing to throw you away,” he said, his voice cold. “You’re a pawn to him, Miracle. Always have been.”

I shook my head, my heart sinking. “No, he… he won’t. He needs me.”

Michael stepped closer, his gaze hardening. “He won’t need you for long. Not when he’s done with you.” He paused, his voice lowering. “Get out while you still can. You don’t have much time.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to scream, to beg him to tell me what to do. But nothing came out. I just stood there, unable to move, the weight of his words settling on me like a stone.

He gave me a final, almost pitying glance before turning and walking out of the room, leaving me alone once again. The papers on the desk felt heavier now, like they were weighing me down. Camille, Chase, Leon Romano—it was all connected.

I couldn’t stay here anymore. But where could I go? What could I do?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew one thing for certain.

I was done being their pawn.

The silence in the room swallowed me whole as I stood there, staring at the papers. I had to figure this out. For