The truth was, I had seen them together, too many times to ignore. But Dylan always brushed it off, claiming he was just helping her with her modeling career.

I did not care back then. After all, the Hoover family was Karyn’s agency's biggest sponsor.

But on the night Dylan was supposed to come to Landon’s birthday, everything became clear. Neither of us were more important than Karyn in his life.

In the nightmare, Karyn also had confirmed everything.

“You want to know why Dylan is so eager to marry you?” she sneered; her eyes gleaming with malice as two of her bodyguards restrained me.

Karyn’s fingers pinched my chin as she leaned closer to explain, “It is because you are useful to the Hoover family. Without you, their textile company would not be as powerful as it is. You were never more than a tool to them, my dear sister.”

Her words had struck me like a lightning bolt, but I refused to believe it completely. I could not. There had to be a misunderstanding between me and Dylan.

But Karyn had proven everything. She had played me Dylan’s voice recording, the final blow to my heart.

“If you love me, why are you marrying my sister?” Karyn had cooed in her syrupy tone, the one that made men fall at her feet.

Dylan's voice, sweet and sickeningly soft, something I had never heard before, "Honey, it is just business.

"When I met her in our senior year, I knew right away her design talent would be very useful. I could not let it go to waste. Sure enough, after helping her open the boutique, she gave me everything. Even the profits I get today are 70% because of her talent."

“But you guys even had a kid,” Karyn pouted again.

Dylan just laughed lightly while explaining, “I have to give an heir to the Hoover family, honey. You do not have to worry about that, okay?”

At that moment, all the illusions I had held about Dylan shattered.

He did not even care about Landon at all. That was why when Landon died, there was no sadness on his face at all.

Had Landon and I been nothing but tools for his business?

Tears streamed down my face. The world around me blurred as Karyn’s smirk twisted into focus.

It was then that I realized I had fallen to her plan. Soon, a dizzy feeling overtook me. Karyn had drugged me.

When I finally woke up, I was tied to a chair in my own boutique, flames licking the walls around me. No way out. I burned alive.

As I remembered that scene, I hurried around the boutique, grabbing scissors and sharp objects, hiding them strategically in places Karyn would not notice.

I muttered to myself, “I hope this works,” as I placed a pair of scissors under a stack of fabrics near where I would be tied up.

My mind suddenly thought of the question I never knew the answer to, “Will Dylan marry Karyn for real after she killed me?”

Thinking of that, my blood boiled as I recalled what had happened just that morning.

Dylan had finally returned home after days with Karyn in tow, clearly drunk from yet another night of partying. The smell of alcohol clung to her, and her laughter was sloppy and careless.

As soon as Dylan saw me, he said nonchalantly. “Oh, Ghislaine, good to see you are downstairs. Get Karyn some water.”

For the first time, I refused. “Why should I do it?”

He blinked, as if stunned by my defiance. “It is your sister. How could you ignore her?” he asked in confusion.

"Bring her to the guest room she usually sleeps in. Our room is fine too," I sneered, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable.

Karyn had always used her fear of being alone as an excuse to crash at our house, even though I had given her my old college apartment. At first, I felt responsible, but then I saw it as an alibi, nothing more.

Dylan sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fine, I will take her to our bedroom later,” he said, laying her down on the sofa for that time, then going to get her a glass of water.

Watching them, I felt sick. The casual ease with which they carried out their charade, right in front of me. My heart hardened.

I went upstairs, grabbed a suitcase, and began packing my things. There was no love left between us, nothing worth fighting for. It was time to leave.

When I came back down, suitcase in hand, I saw Karyn draped across Dylan’s shoulder, her head resting on him like a spoiled child.

He stroked her hair, whispering softly, “You will feel better after you drink some water.”

“I just want to sleep,” she purred, her fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Then, with a sly smile, she asked, “Will you sleep with me?”

I froze. I had not expected her to go that far.

But Dylan did not push her away. He did not even flinch. It was clear that it was not the first time.

Rage surged through me, hot and unrelenting. Without a word, I walked straight toward Dylan, took off our wedding ring, and threw it at him.

“We are done,” I said coldly, my voice like ice.

Before I could walk out the door, Karyn interrupted, her voice dripping with false innocence, “Ghislaine must be angry because you did not come to Landon’s birthday, Dylan. After all, you had to accompany me to my friend’s wedding.”

Her voice had that irresistible charm, the kind that made men weak.

Dylan, always quick to soothe her, responded in his usual calm tone, “Do not worry, Karyn. I know my priorities. We can throw another birthday party later, but a wedding? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

Another birthday party? My mind raced with fury. Landon would never have another birthday; his life stopped at five years old.

Karyn, completely unfazed, added, “But you promised to come, Dylan. Now Landon must dislike me even more. I’m afraid he will bite me again like before.” She spoke with no remorse, no recognition of the pain she had caused.

She was as if toying with that, like Landon’s life was just a game.

The last time Landon bit her was when he was two. A harmless act by a child who did not know better. But even then, I was certain he would not have done it without reason.

Before Dylan could say another word, I stormed forward, my hand flying across Karyn’s face.

The slap echoed through the room, a release of all the rage I had suppressed for years. It was the first time I’d ever raised a hand to her too.

Since then, I was always trying to keep the peace, always bending under the weight of family expectations. Karyn was the favorite after all.

But her mocking was too far.

What I did not expect, Dylan immediately pulled Karyn behind him, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me. “What the hell are you doing? She’s your sister!” he yelled.

Ignoring his anger, I fixed my gaze on Karyn. I said, my voice low and seething, “Watch your tongue. It does not matter that we share blood. You have no right to speak about my son like that.”

Karyn, recovering quickly, stepped forward and slapped me twice, her sharp nails raking across my skin. Her slap felt familiar, the same way our mother used to hit me whenever Karyn cried as a child.

Growing up, I was always the one who had to study harder, achieve more. Meanwhile Karyn, the beauty, was the star of the family.

While I was working for scholarships, she was being signed to modeling agencies. Our mother adored her, constantly praising her looks while reminding me I should have to use my brain if I wanted any chance at success.

I remember one night, our mother sneered at me, “If it were not for your brains, Ghislaine, you would not be anything. Try harder than Karyn, or you will always be in her shadow.”

It was not until I met Dylan and brought him into the family that things changed. Suddenly, I was useful.

The day I introduced him, my parents started treating me equally. They needed me because of him, but Karyn never stopped being the favorite.

I never imagined that the sister who always got what she wanted would go after the one thing that was mine. Karyn had always been jealous, even when she had her own boyfriend.

She used to tease Dylan, hanging onto him, pressing herself against him like a spoiled child, asking for favors.

“If the Hoover family sponsors me, my career will skyrocket,” she would say, batting her lashes. “After you marry Ghislaine, you will sponsor me, won’t you?”

She would cling to his arm, her body close, her voice sweet. “I will appreciate it so much, Dylan. Maybe I can even help promote the Hoover business.”

Dylan, with his stupid blush, would stammer, “Sure, Karyn.”

The memory only fueled my anger.

Ignoring the stinging pain on my face, I grabbed Karyn’s hair and yanked her down to my level.

“How dare you,” I spat, pulling harder.

Karyn shrieked and yanked at my hair in return, her nails digging into my scalp. “How dare you hurt me!” she screamed.

“You started it,” I hissed back.

Dylan finally stepped between us, prying my fingers from her hair. “Stop it! Ghislaine, I know you have always been jealous of Karyn, but this is not the way.”

His words hit me like a punch. Jealous? Of her?

I laughed bitterly; my voice filled with venom. “Jealous? Is that what you think? Maybe we should end this right now. What’s left, anyway?”

Dylan sneered, “You want a divorce? Fine. Go ahead. It’s you who needs me, after all. Leave.”

“That’s exactly what I was doing.” I turned to grab my suitcases; my heart numb.

But as I reached for the one filled with Landon’s belongings, Dylan grabbed it from my hand.

“This one stays. Landon is mine,” he said coldly.

Dylan's voice was sharp and dismissive when he ordered the butler, "Go pick up Landon from school, and do not let him see Ghislaine again."

The butler hesitated, a look of confusion clouding his face. "Sir, your son, Landon Hoover… he passed away the day after his 5th birthday,"

He explained carefully.

Dylan froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"He..." The butler's voice faltered.

Before the explanation could continue, Dylan snapped, cutting him off. "You are in on this too, aren't you, another one of Ghislaine's little games? Tell me where she’s hiding Landon, or I will fire you!"

I could not hold back any longer after hearing his accusation. "You really think I’m that cruel?" My voice trembled, a mixture of sorrow and anger boiling beneath the surface.

Dylan’s glare cut through me when he said, "You are."

With a wave of his hand, he summoned his assistant. "Find out where Landon is. The butler is useless. If you do not have an answer by tomorrow, you are both fired."

I smirked through the pain. "Dylan, you are insane."

I did not stay to watch his temper flare again. With my suitcase, I left.

But Dylan’s reach was long. He made sure that Frelonia shut its doors to me. No place to go; nowhere to hide.

Then, even if I found temporary solace in my boutique, I should have known better if Karyn had no trouble finding me.

As the minutes ticked by, 11:59 p.m. The tension in my chest built as I stayed awake, knowing something was coming.

I could feel it. I had been there before, like reliving a nightmare on a loop.

Time passed. I made a quick excuse to go outside and throw out the trash. That was when I saw Karyn holding a tank of kerosene.

I froze for a second. Then, it all rushed back.

I stormed toward her, my voice rising. "What are you doing?"

She smiled, but her eyes were cold. "Oh, it is you. I did not think I would run into my dear sister again today."

Then, she continued, her voice dripped with mockery. "But do not worry, everything of yours will be better off in ashes, don't you think?"

Anger surged in me, but before I could react, her bodyguards were on me. They grabbed me, forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but it was useless.

"Hahaha," Karyn’s laugh was cruel. "You think you can fight me, Ghislaine? You have always been beneath me. It’s where you belong."

She walked around the boutique, spreading oil.

Then, she crouched down, pinching my chin with icy fingers. Her voice was a sinister whisper, "You know, as long as you are alive, I’m just the mistress. But once you are out of the picture, I’m not second anymore."

I struggled to control my fury, I asked her, "Karyn, what is this really about?"

She laughed again, louder this time. "You have been so rude to me lately. Not like the obedient, ugly duckling I grew up with. It does not suit you, dear," she sneered.

As her bodyguards tried to drug me, Karyn leaned closer, her voice softer but sharper than ever. "Oh, and by the way, I hired a driver to make sure Landon did not live past five. But do not worry, you will be joining him soon."

Her words hit me like ice in my veins. It turned out that my son’s death was not an accident. It was her.

My Landon. A rage deeper than anything I had ever known coursed through me. I could not let it end like that.

Despite the drowsiness from the drugs she had slipped me, I fought to stay awake.

But the drug was too strong, I slept for a moment and realized that the flames were licking at the edges of the boutique, closing in fast.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath, reaching for the scissors I had hidden earlier.

With a quick, desperate motion, I began cutting through the rope that bound me to the chair.

Even if my hands shook in panic, I managed to free myself.

With every second that passed, the flames grew louder, their crackling and snapping reminding me of the urgency. Karyn had already left, probably assuming I was as good as dead.

Stumbling to my feet, I ran to the second floor, grabbing a cloth. I tied it into a makeshift rope, securing it to the window. Smoke filled the room, the heat becoming unbearable.

I opened the window and jumped, using the cloth to lower myself down. The flames followed me, bursting out through the window as I descended.

Just as I neared the ground, the flames surged from the window I had just escaped, searing my back and legs. I screamed as the pain shot through me a light burn, but enough to remind me that I was still alive.

With the remaining energy, I ran away, trying to find a taxi to escape from there.

However, I inhaled too much smoke, making my consciousness even less conscious. With a thud, I fell to the ground.