She spent five years trying to please her family, but her adoptive sister's casual slander undid it all. She was exposed as a fraud. Her fiancé rejected her, her friends distanced themselves from her, and her brothers sent her to the countryside to find her birth parents. She never expected her parents, whom she assumed were peasants, to be the country's wealthiest.
=====
"How could you do such a thing? What kind of sister would wish harm on her own brother?" he said, his words splintered by a violent cough.
"I should've listened to Stacey. She warned me about the poison!"
Nicolas Kirk's hand trembled as he flung the bowl at Rylie Kirk's feet, the crash ringing out across the room. Bl**d stained his lips while fury contorted his face.
Rylie's expression flickered as she looked down at the ruined medicine, disappointment shadowing her features.
"I keep telling you, Nicolas, there's nothing deadly in the medicine. It contains an ingredient that purges the old bl**d, which you need if you ever want to recover," said Rylie.
Watching the medicine soak into the carpet, she winced inwardly, knowing how much effort and money she had poured into finding the right remedy for her eldest brother.
Stacey Kirk, the adopted daughter of the Kirk family, stood at Nicolas' side, her arms wrapped protectively around the medical text that she always carried.
She raised her voice, tears prickling at her eyes. "Please, Rylie, just stop making excuses. Leland ran tests on your concoction, and the results were dangerous. It's full of toxins!"
Cold skepticism crossed Rylie's face as she met Stacey's gaze. "You complete f**l," Rylie said.
"There isn't a medicine in this world that's entirely safe, especially not for what Nicolas is suffering from. The only way to fight back is with a powerful dose. There's nothing mild that could work on him."
Stacey could barely contain her tears, her voice quivering as she pleaded with Rylie, "He's spitting up bl**d right in front of us, and you're still insisting this is the only way? We're just medical students, Rylie, not miracle workers. Don't put your pride above Nicolas' life."
Taking a shaky step toward Rylie, Stacey continued, her words thick with emotion, "I found a well-known specialist. He's already written a prescription that might actually save Nicolas. Admit you were wrong and let us try. Please."
Nicolas doubled over, hacking up bl**d, and fixed Rylie with a glare that burned with outrage.
"It wasn't enough that you fed me that mystery medicine, now you turn on Stacey too? If you had even a fraction of her compassion, things wouldn't have come to this," Nicolas snapped. "Apologize to her, right now!"
Rylie straightened her shoulders and faced Nicolas with an unflinching stare. "All I ever wanted was to help you. I have done nothing that warrants an apology. I owe her nothing."
Desperation twisted Nicolas' features as he scrambled to his feet, snatching a whip from the wall in a blind rage.
"That's it! You're going to push me into an early grave! Why can't you ever listen?" he shouted. "Get out! I don't want you here!"
Before the whip could lash out, Rylie shifted away, nimble and unafraid.
From the upper landing, someone's measured steps echoed, and a battered backpack landed at her toes.
Leland Kirk, her second brother, stood at the base of the stairs. His tone cut through the air.
"Let's lay it out plainly. You're just an outsider, and Stacey is our true sibling. We've kept this secret for your sake, hoping you wouldn't resent her, but today, we see just how cruel you can be. If you refuse to admit your mistakes, pack your things. We'll announce Stacey as our one and only sister. Your fortune goes with your name -- you'll have to go back to your birth family and live as they do."
Such a threat didn't faze Rylie. Years of living in the Kirk household had worn down her patience. However, the revelation that she was not bound to them by bl**d came almost as a blessing.
Her ch**t felt unburdened, lighter than it had in years. There was no need to waste any more of her knowledge or talent on a house that never valued her.
The thought had struck her as odd -- she always wondered why she stood out among siblings who never seemed to measure up.
"That suits me just fine." Rylie's voice held not a hint of regret.
With quick fingers, she snatched up the backpack, plucked a candy from the bowl, and let it dissolve on her tongue as she strode for the door.
Left in the hallway, Stacey could not hold back a grin of satisfaction. Five years of plotting had finally paid off.
With Rylie gone, she would be the Kirk family's prized daughter, adored and indulged by her brothers.
Still, she could not resist a final performance.
She darted after Rylie, her voice ringing out. "Rylie! Don't leave like this! You'll always have a place here! Please, don't make me feel like the villain. I'm begging you!"
Nicolas interjected sharply, "Enough, Stacey! Let her go. A heart as cold as hers belongs to her own impoverished family. She never deserved this home."
A cold laugh escaped Rylie when she overheard him. Was everyone in the Kirk family so easily fooled?
Did they genuinely believe that it was sheer luck that had brought Nicolas back to health, gotten him out of bed, and made him able to walk again?
Without her hands and her medicine, they'd see soon enough just how far good fortune could take him.
Drawing the hood over her head, Rylie let the breeze whip strands of hair across her vivid lips, a flicker of scorn glinting in her eyes.
...
Far away, inside the bustling capital city of Kouhron, the imposing Owen Mansion stood as a symbol of influence and wealth.
Within that opulent hall, Kendrick Owen struck his ornate cane against the marble floor. "You all promised she'd been located. Why is she still not here?"
Arrayed around him stood his three grandsons -- each a commanding presence in his own right, men whose names carried enough weight that even the highest government officials paid their respects.
Yet, despite their stature, the shadow of their missing youngest sister dimmed their confidence, and their faces bore deep lines of worry.
"Our search stalled in Crolens. According to the latest report, she spent some years in a mountain village, but after being trafficked, her whereabouts vanished from every record."
Agony creased Kendrick's expression. "For eighteen years, that child has been gone. Imagine the hardships she's endured in a place like that."
"Grandfather, there's been progress. One of the kidnappers came forward and claimed she was later sold to a rich woman in Crolens. We only need a bit more time -- her discovery is within reach."
Relief softened Kendrick's features. No trace of irritation remained as he rose from his chair, hope radiating from his gaze.
"In that case, let's not delay. I'm coming with you. We'll search together."
Chapter 2 Versatile Rylie
A heavy backpack slung over her shoulder, Rylie walked out of the Kirk residence without a backward glance, heading directly to the parking lot where her prized, limited-edition motorcycle waited.
Years of downplaying her skills and masking her sharpness for the sake of the Kirk family's fragile peace were finally behind her. Freedom now tasted real.
Down the city streets, her motorcycle roared, slicing through the afternoon air until she arrived at the imposing entrance of a gated community near a military compound.
At the checkpoint, security protocols ran tight as always, but the instant Rylie's motorcycle appeared, the guard broke into a broad smile and opened the gate wide.
"Miss Kirk, your visits are always a welcome surprise."
With a practiced motion, Rylie flipped up her visor and gave a polite nod.
Inside, cherry blossom petals scented the breeze, and several retired officers meandered beneath the blooming trees. Spotting her approach, they made their way over.
"Look who's back -- Rylie, I was just about to see you. I've run out of those pills you mixed up for me last time."
Her motorcycle came to a halt as she peeled off her helmet, her gentle features drawing nods of approval.
"You can swing by the clinic tomorrow. I'll be here all day if you need a refill."
Catching sight of another familiar face, she gestured toward an elderly man still sporting a neck brace. "As for you, I've told you before that brace is only making things worse for your neck."
An embarrassed grin spread across his face as he removed the brace. "Would you at least allow me to try a few easy exercises?"
"Take it slow, and don't do anything reckless," said Rylie, stepping inside an apartment building.
Long ago, her connection to this community began unexpectedly. During a visit to the Military General Hospital to buy medicine, she had encountered an elderly man suffering from epilepsy.
With a prescription that targeted his condition at the root, she gave him relief that no other doctor had managed.
That stranger turned out to be a celebrated, now-retired clinical specialist. Awed by Rylie's abilities, he insisted on calling her his savior and offered her an apartment in the community as thanks.
Easy rapport filled the community, and its prime location made life peaceful and convenient. In time, Rylie had come to see this place as the home that she had always needed.
As soon as she stepped inside her apartment, lights flickered on and a soft, familiar mechanical voice greeted her.
"Welcome home, Rylie. You've been gone for three days. There are two encrypted voicemails waiting, your email inbox has new messages, and your bath is ready."
Her backpack landed with a thud on the floor, sending the zipper flying open. A thick bundle of cash spilled out, scattering across the entryway.
She stared at the pile of bills, guessing that it must total around ten grand. The sound that escaped her lips was half a chuckle, half a sneer.
Was that really all the Kirks thought she was worth, tossing money her way like she was some beggar?
"Play my messages," she said.
Britton Davies' voice filled the room first, recorded late the previous evening.
"Hey, Rylie, registration for the relay's almost up -- two practice runs down already! Are you honestly still clinging to the Kirks? For real? I've been wiping the floor with Phillip these past few days!"
A slight arch in her brow gave away her recognition.
Phillip Kirk, her third brother, ran one of the most exclusive racing clubs in the world, churning out champions and stacking up prize money.
Long nights spent behind the wheel were her secret, pushing his team to one victory after another.
Yet each season, as the finals approached, Phillip would swap her out for Stacey, handing over the glory and the gold.
Year after year, her skills powered their success, but when the spotlight appeared, Stacey was ushered in for the celebration, leaving Rylie invisible to the crowd.
Trophies meant little to her. In those days, protecting her family's ego mattered more. But now...
A grin spread across her face as she called Britton. "I want half of the prize money."
Whatever disappointment Britton had felt vanished at once.
"Done! Phillip's team doesn't scare me. I've mapped out every move they make, but when you're behind the wheel, nobody can keep up. I never lose to him, Rylie -- I always lose to you!"
A small laugh escaped Rylie as she let out a soft sigh. "You've noticed it too. Funny how obvious it is, but they still manage to overlook everything I do."
Curiosity lit Britton's voice as he switched topics.
"By the way, something else came up. There's been chatter on the dark web about the Owen family -- the wealthiest folks in Kouhron. Word is, they're here in Crolens, searching for their missing daughter and throwing around serious money for information. Think we should get involved?"
Without hesitation, Rylie answered, "No interest. I have finals coming up, so I'll pass. See you."
On Britton's end, confusion crept in. Of all the reasons to bail, exams were the last thing that he would expect from Rylie.
As far as he could recall, she never even showed up for tests. The truth was, she was the one who wrote them.
Chapter 3 Invitation
Rylie moved on to the next voicemail, which turned out to be from Rory Carter, one of the most respected physicians at the Military General Hospital.
A note of flattery colored Rory's tone as he spoke.
"Rylie, I'm really in a bind. One of my old friend's sons has battled a rare illness for years, and his health is declining again. Those special pills you provided aren't helping him any longer. Is there any chance you could stop by and take a look?"
Pulling out her phone, Rylie dialed him back. "I'll come to the clinic after classes tomorrow evening. Tell him to swing by then."
Rory cut in with an apologetic sigh, saying, "He's stuck in the VIP wing at the hospital, and strict protocols mean he can't leave."
Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, Rylie pressed for details. "Enough stalling, Rory. Who's the patient?"
After a pause, Rory's voice dropped to a whisper, saying, "It's Brad Morgan. Yes, the grandson of General Sean Morgan. This isn't just any case -- the Morgans have discreetly reached out to top doctors nationwide. They're offering twenty million dollars to anyone who can cure him."
An arched eyebrow was all the reaction Rylie gave. The Morgan family was legendary, led by Sean Morgan, a formidable general. He was a man even the President deferred to.
The name Brad Morgan brought back memories -- she remembered reading about him in the news.
Only thirty and already hailed as the youngest admiral of his era, his string of military victories made headlines everywhere.
That revelation puzzled Rylie. Something could actually bring down a man like Brad?
Her next move was to check her encrypted contract inbox, and sure enough, there sat an official invitation from the National Healthcare Department.
Working under the codename "Healing Hand" on the dark web, she had built a reputation for tackling medical mysteries, and eventually gathered an elite team of her own.
It seemed natural that the government would come looking for her.
Keeping her composure, Rylie responded, "I see the message. That reward would tempt anyone. I'll take the case."
Meanwhile, word of the Morgan family's urgent call reached the Kirks as well. Leland sprang into action, already strategizing and dialing contacts in hopes of getting their foot in the door.
Always just out of reach of the upper society, the Kirk family saw this as their shot. Healing Brad would mean acceptance into the highest social circles at last.
Another rumor had set the city abuzz: the wealthiest family in Kouhron landed in Crolens, promising a mind-blowing sum to anyone who could lead them to their missing daughter.
People all across town had dropped everything, desperate for a piece of the reward.
...
The next day.
The shrill ring of her phone yanked Rylie from sleep. She stretched and dragged herself out of bed.
On the other end was Timothy Powell -- her research advisor -- barely masking his irritation.
"Rylie! I told you to handle the data organization, but you're nowhere in sight. Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of my research group? Stacey was here right at dawn. I expect you here immediately!"
She offered no answer, choosing instead to end the call and glance at the clock.
The digits read ten o'clock.
Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Lost in old medical texts, she'd worked long hours sorting through ancient prescriptions, and now she had overslept, letting Timothy's task slip her mind.
A yawn escaped as she flipped open her laptop, sent off a quick email, and hurried to get ready. Backpack in tow, she stepped out the door.
Her motorcycle zipped through city streets until she pulled up in front of the university lab. After finding a spot, she strode toward the entrance.
She pulled out her pass and swiped it, only to watch the screen blink and flash a denial -- her access had been revoked.
At that moment, the lab doors swung open and out came Stacey, flanked by two upperclassmen from the research team.
A mocking smile twisted one guy's lips as he spotted her dilemma.
"So, Rylie, you think you're special? Turning up late, ditching your work -- looks like you finally pushed Professor Powell too far. Lab access is locked, and your days here are over!"
Chapter 4 I'm Expelling You
Stacey tugged at the man's sleeve and said with a hint of grievance, "Rylie was late because she was in a bad mood. You should go and plead with Professor Powell on her behalf. If she's kicked out of this project, how will she maintain her reputation at school? No professor would risk taking her on, and she'd never graduate."
Even as she spoke, excitement flickered in Stacey's eyes, barely masked by her sympathetic tone.
The prospect of Rylie's downfall was almost too delicious to hide. If Rylie really got expelled, surely she would have no choice but to come back pleading.
But the scene didn't play out the way Stacey had hoped. Rylie's answer was blunt and left no room for argument.
"That's perfect. I never intended to stick around. I'm out of the project. I already sent my withdrawal report to Professor Powell this morning. Tell him to approve it."
Her trip here wasn't for the team -- it was to collect her carefully developed Nexo-7 compound, the key ingredient that she had been growing for months for a rare genetic remedy.
Stacey's face faltered at that. "You're quitting the group?"
Without missing a beat, Rylie nodded and stepped past them, but Stacey's grip shot out, latching onto her wrist.
"Please don't let impulse get the better of you, Rylie! We're nearly done with this phase, and the medical competition's coming up. This isn't just about you -- there's a team counting on you! You can't just walk away."
The man cast Stacey a critical look. "You shouldn't give her special treatment just because you're related, Stacey."
Rylie turned her gaze on Stacey, arching a brow. "Is your concern for me genuine, or is this just another act?"
"Absolutely, I am really concerned," Stacey insisted, nodding eagerly.
The urge to laugh nearly escaped Rylie, her tone laced with derision.
"Be serious. You've seen what your team can do even with my help -- and it's not much. Six months, and you haven't achieved a thing. You're all lost causes, so of course I'm leaving."
Everything about the research group's progress came down to Rylie -- her organization, her direction, her experimental designs.
Without her, Timothy's grand ambitions in clinical medicine and AI were just wishful thinking. The others fumbled through experiments, never getting close to real breakthroughs.
With a dismissive snort, Rylie reached out and tapped Stacey's cheek, her words cold. "Don't fool yourself. You're not family, and I'm not here to babysit incompetence in the lab."
A surge of tears filled Stacey's eyes, her voice tight with shock.
Ever since Rylie had been shown the door at home, she had turned into someone unrecognizable -- brazen, stubborn, completely unwilling to listen. It drove Stacey mad.
"Rylie! Don't flatter yourself -- the research doesn't revolve around you. You wouldn't even be part of this team if Stacey hadn't vouched for you in the first place!" Patience snapping, the man lunged at Rylie, intending to shove her aside.
But Rylie moved first, gripping his wrist and twisting it sharply.
"Ah!" A cry of pain erupted from him as he doubled over, hand clutching his now-dislocated arm, disbelief written all over his face.
Rylie merely dusted off her hands and shot the group a cold glance. "Aren't you all future doctors? Surely setting a joint isn't beyond your skills."
Without wasting another word, she brushed past them, entered the lab through the open doors, and collected her prized compound.
While inside, she fed the latest core AI research notes into the shredder, ensuring that her work would not be stolen.
Moments later, Rylie stepped back out, vial in hand, just as Timothy stormed into the hallway.
One glance at the scene -- a student whimpering, the others shaken -- and Timothy's anger boiled over.
He jabbed a finger at Rylie. "You're always scraping by in class, using the lab for naps, and now you're assaulting your own teammates? Do you honestly believe my research team has any need for someone like you? From now on, you're no longer a member of the team! And I--"
Growing impatient, Rylie interjected, "Didn't you read my email? I already sent in my resignation."
Timothy hesitated, then fumbled for his phone and scanned his inbox. Sure enough, there was Rylie's formal withdrawal.
He scoffed, shaking his head as if the idea was ridiculous, "You must be out of your mind, Rylie. Do you know how many students would k**l for a place on my team? Let me make this clear: you don't get to quit -- I'm expelling you. I'll post the official notice on the university website for everyone to see."
Timothy had expected her to back down, maybe beg for another chance. But he had clearly misjudged her resolve.
Rylie shrugged, tossing out a dismissive, "Whatever," and was halfway out the door when sudden shouts erupted nearby.
A frantic voice cut through the noise. "Somebody just collapsed!"
Instinct overriding her exit, Rylie pivoted toward the commotion.
A small knot of medical students clustered around the person sprawled on the floor. She wasted no time barking instructions. "Give him space -- don't crowd, let some air in."
These were all medical students, and certainly, they knew this knowledge. Immediately, they stepped back, forming a loose circle.
Dropping to one knee, Rylie sized up the unconscious man. His face, pale but striking, caught her attention for only a second before her hands moved to assess his condition.
Her fingers quickly found his trachea -- shifted, not where it should be.
She was about to examine his ch**t when Timothy charged onto the scene, voice booming. "Out of the way! Let me through!"
Without hesitating, Rylie grabbed her portable medical kit, but Timothy shouted at her, "You have no business treating anyone! You're just an inexperienced student, not a doctor!"
Stacey hustled over, siding with Timothy. "Rylie, listen to Professor Powell. If something goes wrong, it's on you. He's the expert here, not you."
Chapter 5 Anything But Ordinary
Rylie ignored Timothy and Stacey and busied herself with the medical kit.
She took out a decompression needle, felt the patient's ch**t, and unbuttoned his shirt to prepare for the procedure.
Her calm defiance caught Timothy's eye, prompting him to step directly in her path.
"Look at him -- clammy skin, ghostly complexion, and he collapsed in this sweltering heat. This is textbook heatstroke, maybe worsened by heart trouble. The right call is CPR. Bring him back that way!"
Stacey didn't waste a moment piling on. "Rylie, for once, just do as Professor Powell says. You nearly k**led Nicolas with the wrong medicine yesterday. If you keep going like this, you'll end up in court!"
With Stacey stirring things up, murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Hidden among the onlookers, some of Stacey's friends chimed in about Rylie's supposed poor grades, spreading doubt and fanning resentment.
At the edge of the crowd, a team from the nearby bio-research institute took notice and started moving closer.
Rylie's expression chilled as she seized Timothy's hands, halting his attempt at ch**t compressions.
"This man's not drawing a single breath, and his trachea's off-center. He's got a tension pneumothorax. If you start CPR now, you'll just make things worse."
Such a challenge to his expertise -- especially in front of his students -- left Timothy red-faced. Yet, several research group members rallied around him, echoing his diagnosis.
"Rylie, stop spreading nonsense. Professor Powell's the expert here, not you!"
Unfazed, Rylie shook off Timothy's grasp, disinfected her instruments, and replied, "Cold sweats, pallor, collapse -- pneumothorax can look just like heatstroke. But if you bother to check for a shifted trachea or a drum-like ch**t, you'll see the difference. Guess that's lost on a quack."
Her sharp words prompted a few medical students to lean in and study the patient themselves, curiosity overtaking their doubt.
"It looks like Rylie's diagnosis holds up," one student admitted, and Timothy's expression turned even grimmer.
Back straight and voice steady, Timothy retorted, "You're nothing more than a glorified assistant who just files paperwork, yet you think you're an expert? If you can revive him with that needle, the mentor's chair is yours!"
Rylie didn't waste another word. She finished sterilizing, deftly inserted the decompression needle, and with a sharp hiss, trapped air rushed out.
Color crept back into the patient's face as his breathing returned at once.
"She was right all along! He had a pneumothorax!" a student shouted, awe coloring every word.
Recognition dawned across the faces in the room as those with medical training pieced together what had just happened -- Timothy's assessment had been mistaken.
One student voiced what everyone was thinking. "If Rylie hadn't stood her ground and Professor Powell had pushed on with CPR, we would have had a disaster on our hands."
Even so, Timothy scrambled for justification. "Well... you've all misunderstood me. I actually recognized it was pneumothorax all along."
In an attempt to salvage his authority, he looked down at Rylie and the group, adding, "My intention was only to test Rylie. She has a reputation for cutting corners, after all."
Before she could get a word out, the patient -- still weak, yet now radiating a quiet power -- interrupted from the floor.
"Did you risk my life just to prove a point with your student? That hardly qualifies you as a doctor, let alone a teacher."
Despite his lingering frailty, this man rose, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. Those striking features, combined with an unmistakable force of will, made Rylie sense that his identity was anything but ordinary.
She regarded him calmly and gave a simple instruction. "Save your strength and let the campus hospital run further tests."
The man nodded and, with a hoarse voice, said to Timothy, "You should apologize to my savior."
When he heard this, Timothy's composure slipped. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"
Not missing her chance to gain approval, Stacey chimed in quickly, "Rylie, Professor Powell's intentions were good. He cares about your growth. A kind teacher like him shouldn't have to apologize."
"And why shouldn't he?"
A sharp retort cut through the crowd...
......
What happens next?
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&3&
'Regina's in the hospital. She needs a bl**d transfusion. Come to Hagen General. Now.'
'Where are you? You are fifteen minutes late.'
Darya scrolled through the messages, her knuckles turning white.
'If you are unhappy about the price, it's been upped to one hundred thousand dollars. Check your bank account.'
Instead of texts from her husband, they sounded more like orders issued to an underling by a hard taskmaster.
Darya spent three years loving Micah, to her, he is a hero.
But to him, she is a gold digger who schemed her way into his life.
In all three years, the number of times they'd had something resembling a friendly conversation could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
In contrast, Micah's texts requesting Darya to show up at the hospital, had flooded her WhatsApp inbox.
Message by message, he'd chipped away at the wall she built around herself to shield her from the ugly, crushing reality-he didn't love her.
Never did, never would.
Darya's eyes were red-rimmed.
The front door of the house burst open.
Micah in a charcoal grey suit, strode in on his long legs.
It intensified into fury when he noted the iPhone clutched in her hand.
"If your phone's working, why didn't you answer my texts or calls?"
Darya took in his expression, committed his striking features to memory.
Micah grabbed her wrist, started moving towards the door.
"You are needed at the hospital, pronto."
This would the last time they stood this close together.
Darya accepts the harsh reality, divorces him, takes back her real name, reclaims her title as the country's youngest billionaire heiress.
Micah realises, belatedly, that she's exactly the kind of woman he'd want to marry, if only he had taken the trouble to get to know her.
Micah acts promptly to win her back, but discovers she's now surrounded by eligible bachelors. Worse, she makes it pretty clear that she's done with him.
Micah must prove to her he's still worthy of her love before she falls for someone else.
And time is running out...
&7&
The real heiress stole her family and husband, forcing her out with nothing. Unexpectedly, she reunited with her childhood rival. She had braced for his mockery, but he proposed instead. This power couple, hiding countless identities, dominated the elite circle, leaving her ex-husband regret.
=====
"Mrs. Gibson, do you have anything to say about your husband showing up at Marilee Jenkins' birthday party today and announcing that he's going to divorce you?"
"People are saying Marilee is Mr. Gibson's first love and the real daughter of your parents, while you're the fake. You've been enjoying her parents' love all this time and married to the man meant for her. Do you feel bad about that?"
The birthday party was crowded, and Alexia Gibson found herself completely trapped.
Reporters quickly closed in on her, pushing cameras and microphones into her face as camera flashes burst from every direction, giving her no space to breathe.
"Your parents just said you're not really their daughter and cut off your money."
"You've been out of work for two years, living as a housewife, so how exactly do you plan to support yourself now? Mrs. Gibson, any comments?"
Alexia just stood there, frozen. Her mind was still spinning from everything she'd just heard.
So this Marilee Jenkins was the real daughter of her so-called parents and her husband's true love.
And her? She was Roger Gibson's wife on paper, but clearly, just a joke to everyone else.
Years ago, the Jenkins couple had pulled her out of some run-down neighborhood overseas, saying she was their long-lost daughter.
But had they really not bothered doing a simple DNA test before welcoming her in?
Why did they only discover the mistake now?
Alexia's body tensed up. Her eyes drifted over to the man standing next to her.
However, Roger's attention was not on her. He was looking at Marilee, as if they were the only ones in the room.
Her voice came out strained as she asked, "Why? You didn't even tell me."
Roger's face was as cold as stone.
"Now you know. That's all that matters. It's over, Alexia. You were never good enough for me. Our marriage? Just a transaction. The only woman I've ever loved is Marilee. And you know why I never touched you after the wedding? Because you disgust me. You're like a spoiled dish--completely unappetizing."
His eyes swept over her from head to toe, full of scorn. Her simple clothes, those outdated glasses--everything about her clashed with the glossy, high-class world he lived in.
Before his harsh words even fully sank in, Alexia lifted her glass and threw the ch**pagne right into his face.
The drink hit him with a loud splash, soaking his face and pricey suit. He just stood there, stunned, as the li**id dripped from his hair and down his face.
"A spoiled dish? You told me you wanted an ordinary housewife. Dad and Mom told me they wanted an obedient daughter, who never outdid anyone!"
Without hesitation, she threw the glass to the floor. The sharp crash instantly silenced the whole room.
Roger's face turned red with embarrassment. His jaw tightened. "Have you lost your mind?"
From the stage, the Jenkins couple yelled at her. "Alexia, this is Marilee's birthday, not a place for your drama!"
People in the crowd rolled their eyes and muttered that she was nuts.
None of them had a clue what she had given up for the two families all these years.
Shoving through the crowd, Alexia made a beeline for the exit. Reporters swarmed after her like a flood.
She shoved past them all, blind to the pouring rain, deaf to the murmurs and judgment surrounding her.
Right now, all she wanted was to get away--far from the noise, the eyes, and the humiliation.
But just as she broke through the crowd and made it outside, a bunch of Marilee's wild fans shoved her hard, and she slipped, landing on the wet road.
Marilee was an A-list star in showbiz. Her birthday party was being livestreamed, and tons of fans had gathered outside.
The second they saw Alexia step out, the crowd lost it, shouting like wild animals who had just found something to attack.
"Alexia, you've got some nerve attending Marilee's birthday party. You've got no shame!"
"You're not even the real daughter. Just go back to whatever dump you came from, or are you too hooked on the Jenkins' money?"
"Roger's going to divorce you, and you still think it's okay to show your face around Marilee? Who do you think you are?"
"Go away already!"
Alexia lay there on the wet street, frozen for a second, while their nasty words echoed all around her.
She let out a dry, bitter laugh. Everything was such a joke. A broken marriage, a cold family, and now they'd left her completely humiliated.
What was the point of pretending for so long? She had kept her head down, put up with everything, and this was what she got in the end?
A wave of helplessness washed over her. She closed her eyes, not even caring anymore as the freezing rain drenched her.
Through the noise and chaos, a flattering voice broke through. "Mr. Mason." The polite greeting was followed by firm, steady footsteps coming closer in the rain.
Moments later, a black umbrella appeared above her, silently cutting through the rain and offering her shelter from the storm.
Chapter 2 Meeting Him Again At Her Absolute Worst
Alexia slowly looked up and met a sharp, intense gaze.
The streetlights flickered in the rain. Waylon Mason stood there, tall and intimidating, with a strong presence that made people uncomfortable.
Behind him was a row of fancy cars parked along the street, catching everyone's eye.
His assistants were standing on both sides of him, and one was holding an umbrella over his head.
But the umbrella Waylon was holding was tilted just to cover Alexia.
Waylon took a slow step forward and leaned in. Before she could react, his fingers reached up and removed the heavy, black-rimmed glasses from her face.
Her bright, beautiful eyes were now fully visible.
He looked down at her with a smirk. "It's been years, Alexia. Look at you--what a mess. Did you finally stop being that love-crazy girl, or are you still dreaming useless dreams?"
Every word cut deeper. Alexia's eyes started to tear up, and the little bit of strength she had left broke down under his harsh voice.
She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could speak, Waylon suddenly picked her up in his arms in front of everyone, protecting her from the rain and everything around them.
He walked toward the black car waiting nearby, carrying her as the bodyguards quickly stepped aside to make way.
All the noise and the rude comments around them faded away.
Everyone just stood there, stunned, watching them leave with shock written all over their faces.
...
Inside the car, Alexia held onto her muddy, soaked dress with trembling hands.
She looked down, her voice rough. "Waylon, why'd you have to show up now?"
Why now...when everything in her life was falling apart?
Waylon tilted his head at her question, then reached out and took her chin in his hand, gently but firmly lifting her face.
His voice was calm, yet carried a cold edge. "Why else? I came to check on the woman I liked the least."
His eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips. "So, Alexia, do you remember what I said to you seven years ago?"
Of course she did.
Waylon was the golden child of the Mason family. Her biggest rival back in the day.
The last time they met was at the airport, seven years ago. What was meant to be a goodbye turned into their worst fight.
Waylon always hated how she begged for the Jenkins family's approval and how she held onto Roger like she had no pride.
And she couldn't stand his ego and how he judged everyone she cared about.
Back then, he'd warned her clearly--chasing approval from people who'd never truly accept her would only end in disappointment, leaving her with nothing in the end.
But she was too hopeful to see it. She had told herself, "It's okay if they don't like me now. If I work hard and put them first, they'll accept me eventually."
They wanted her to marry Roger, so she agreed. Her brothers didn't want her getting too powerful, so she acted clueless and average.
But behind the scenes, she was quietly taking out their threats and protecting both the Jenkins and the Gibson families.
As Waylon's fingers held her jaw tightly, her warm tears fell on his hand, running down his knuckles.
His expression wavered. The coldness faded just for a second. Then, he let go.
Alexia's voice shook, still raspy from the rain. "Waylon, you were right. They tossed me aside after exploiting me. For more than twenty years, I gave them everything I had. I was so st**id."
It was a long time before Waylon finally spoke again. "You were not st**id. They just weren't worth it."
But Alexia didn't respond.
He turned to look at her and saw her fast asleep.
Later that night, Alexia suddenly came down with a high fever.
Santino Blake, Waylon's personal doctor, got pulled out of bed by a single call and had to grab his stuff and rush over late at night.
With his years of experience, Santino quickly ran a full checkup. He stood by the bed, looking at Alexia's pale, tired face, and let out a soft sigh.
Chapter 3 Our Luna Is Back
Santino glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Waylon on the balcony, ci**rette burning slowly between his fingers.
Sm**e curled up in lazy spirals, casting a ghostly veil over Waylon's sharp features, softening them with each exhale.
Waylon rarely sm**ked. Santino could only recall one other time Waylon had smoked like this--two years ago.
Santino stepped outside and joined him.
"She's stable now. She just picked up a chill from being stuck in the rain and took the shock pretty hard. I've given her an injection and some medication--she'll be all right."
A brief pause allowed Santino to scan the night sky.
"I checked the headlines. The Jenkins family didn't just cut her off; they humiliated her for everyone to see--right in the middle of Marilee's birthday party."
Anger edged into Santino's voice. "Hadn't they done a DNA test before taking her back from abroad? This whole thing smells like a setup."
A sudden vibration broke his focus--Alexia's phone was buzzing on the nightstand.
Waylon strode inside, intent on ending the call, but the name flashing on the screen stopped him cold.
A flicker of something dark flashed across his eyes as he picked up and put on the speaker.
Shouting erupted instantly, the caller's anger unmistakable.
"Alexia, you've ignored every call and message. What exactly are you trying to pull? Faking your own disappearance won't help. Tomorrow, you're signing the divorce agreement, and that's the end of it. I've shown enough patience. Stop standing in the way of Marilee and me. You've lived off the Jenkins family long enough."
"If you have any dignity left, walk away for good--it's the least you can do for Marilee. Don't worry about your share--you'll get what's coming. You looked after my grandmother and my mother these past years, fine. But don't overstep. Learn when to quit. Why aren't you answering me? Where are you?"
The stillness that lingered on the line finally made Roger uneasy. His confidence wavered and his words lost their edge.
Santino internally begged for someone to step in and stop what was happening, feeling panic surge as things slipped further from control.
From the moment Roger started speaking, Santino caught the way Waylon's face darkened.
His eyes went cold and every hint of warmth vanished, leaving the atmosphere icy and suffocating. Santino could barely stand, knees threatening to give way.
Waylon's expression turned sharp, his smile edged with cruelty. "So that's the way you speak to her, huh?"
Every mu**le in Roger's body tensed, instincts screaming a warning. His voice grew cautious. "Who are you? Where is Alexia?"
Waylon let his gaze settle on the b*d, where Alexia rested, her breathing faint but even.
His response came as a gentle murmur, almost lost in the tension. "She's asleep."
He let a short silence hang before adding, "And she's right here with me."
The only thing that answered him was the explosive sound of rage through the phone. Roger's voice thundered down the line. "What did you just say? Who are you?"
Amusement glimmered in Waylon's eyes as a low chuckle slipped out. "Relax. You'll figure it out...assuming you live long enough." Without another word, he ended the call.
By morning, the rain had vanished, leaving sunlight streaming through the windows as Alexia stirred awake.
She reached for her phone, greeted by a storm of missed calls and furious messages from Roger.
Without reacting, she scrolled through the flood of texts, then let the device drop onto the sheets. Right now, a hot shower mattered more.
Steam fogged the bathroom mirror as she faced her reflection. Something had changed--her eyes, once dull, now held a spark she hadn't seen in ages.
For the first time in ages, she tried out a smile, and this one actually reached her eyes, genuine and alive.
It felt like a fever had burned away all her confusion, stripping her heart of old pain and fo**ish loyalty to those who never deserved it.
No more playing the fool. No more pretending everything was fine. This sad story was over.
Wrapped in a towel after the shower, she scanned her contacts and paused on a name untouched for years.
Her call barely rang once before chaos exploded on the other end.
"Luna! It's about d**mn time! Tell me--are the rumors true? You're finally getting a divorce?"
Laughter and shouting burst from the background, her friends making no attempt to hide their eavesdropping.
Alexia replied calmly, "Yes, I'm going to sign the divorce agreement today."
Celebration roared through the phone. Whistles, cheers, the clink of glasses--her friends were clearly turning it into a full-blown party.
"Took you long enough to snap out of that trance! No more housewife blues. Our Luna is back!"
"Divorce is the best thing to happen to you! Roger never deserved you. Say the word and I'll handle him myself!"
"And don't get me started on that overrated Jenkins family. If not for you, they'd have collapsed during last year's crash. Luna, we're ready when you are--the Helix Consortium stands with you."
Their laughter and support brought a genuine grin to Alexia's lips. "In that case, I need a ride."
Without missing a beat, a man's voice broke in, buzzing with excitement. "A ride? For your grand return? Name it. I'll send the reigning racing champion to pick you up!"
Chapter 4 Do You Believe Me
The call had barely ended when the soft click of the door caught Alexia's attention, her head snapping up.
There in the doorway stood Waylon, his height casting a shadow, his expression giving nothing away as their eyes met.
Neither of them had anticipated this kind of encounter.
Fresh from the shower, Alexia's hair clung damply to her cheeks, a robe slipping low on her shoulders, skin flushed and eyes still hazy with warmth.
That oversized bathrobe, threatening to slip further, revealed soft lines of skin; the faint scent of shampoo lingered in the air, sweet and impossible to ignore.
Waylon's gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough for her cheeks to flush, before he looked away calmly. "Get ready. Breakfast is on the table."
Moments later, Alexia emerged dressed, met by the aroma of a beautifully arranged breakfast.
Hunger won out over pride; she took her seat without pretense, finishing most of the meal before pausing for breath.
Little was said as Waylon let her eat in peace, only breaking the silence after she'd nearly cleared her plate. "You need a lawyer?"
She set down her coffee cup, eyes meeting his squarely. "So you've heard."
Amusement tugged at his mouth, though his eyes stayed cold. "Is there anyone left who doesn't?"
Alexia tasted the bitterness of the coffee and grimaced for just a moment, though she quickly composed herself. "I can deal with it."
As the words left her mouth, she realized he might think she was too stubborn to admit she needed help.
After all, in most people's eyes, women being dumped were pathetic.
"Do you believe me when I say that?" she asked.
A smirk played on Waylon's face, eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. "Why wouldn't I? Alexia, he's the one who should've fallen apart."
That unwavering gaze held her still, though she managed a small, genuine smile in return. "You've always known how to make a good point."
Once breakfast was done, Alexia got ready to leave.
Reaching the doorway, she stopped and glanced back. "Thank you," she said quietly, her gratitude unmistakable.
There was no chance she'd forget his kindness.
...
Ten minutes had ticked past their appointment, and Roger's patience was quickly wearing thin as he and Marilee waited for Alexia in a private club.
"Why isn't she here yet? Is she refusing to divorce you?" Marilee pressed herself closer to him, sugar in her tone as she pouted.
"You haven't forgotten our shopping plans, right? You promised you'd buy me a gown after this."
Roger hummed in response. The weekend's banquet held by the Chamber of Commerce would be the perfect stage to introduce Marilee--the timing of her comeback couldn't have been more ideal.
Every influential name in town would be present, all eyes fixed on Waylon's much-anticipated return.
Just thinking about Waylon sent a flicker of unease across Roger's face.
The Chamber of Commerce's open support for Waylon right before the election of its new president wasn't exactly good news for the Gibson family.
A sudden uproar near the doorway snapped Roger's focus.
His head turned, and in that instant, it felt as though the atmosphere in the room shifted.
Everyone's attention zeroed in on a single figure gliding inside with effortless grace.
Alexia walked in, her crimson dress hugging every curve, heels whispering over the polished floor. Each stride radiated poise and quiet confidence.
The scarlet hue, that unmistakable glow--she looked like the sunrise brought to life.
With each step Alexia took, Marilee's smile grew tighter, until it disappeared altogether when Alexia claimed the seat across from them.
Roger couldn't hide his shock either; his eyes remained glued to Alexia's artfully made-up features.
"You..." Words caught in his throat, visible in the small, nervous bob of his Adam's apple.
Nobody present could believe this woman was the same person from last night--the awkward glasses, the baggy checkered shirt, the sopping hair.
Yesterday's pitiful girl had been replaced by someone utterly different, confident, unrecognizable.
Nothing about their surprise caught Alexia off guard. Her beauty wasn't news to her; she'd just chosen not to make a show of it.
Childhood lessons had always emphasized modesty, staying out of the spotlight, never inviting too much notice.
Marriage only tightened the leash. Years spent tending to Roger's grandmother and fielding disapproval from a mother-in-law who'd been fed tales of her so-called wild youth.
Not even her hair or the color of her clothes escaped scrutiny. Every detail had been censored into drab submission.
Vibrant dresses never made it to her closet--only baggy, forgettable options filled the shelves.
That chapter, though, was behind her.
With unhurried confidence, Alexia called over a server, ordered a te**ila, and began paging through the divorce agreement--unfazed by the attention.
Marilee recovered her composure first, flashing a sweet smile.
"Alexia, I hope you're alright after yesterday. The reporters caught us all off guard. Someone told me you slipped in the rain. It must have been miserable out there."
Chapter 5 Watching Her Unravel
Patience faded on Marilee's face as she waited for a reaction, but Alexia wouldn't even meet her eyes.
Instead, she directed her attention to Roger. "Is the Gibson fortune going up in flames? This is all I'm worth?"
A shadow crossed Roger's face. "That's what the prenup says, so that's all you're entitled to."
Even before they got married, he'd closed every door to the family's fortune, making sure she'd never find a loophole.
Realizing Alexia was blatantly ignoring her, Marilee butted in, "You're getting more than enough, Alexia. Was it love or money you wanted from Roger, anyway?"
Alexia still refused to acknowledge her, not so much as a glance. "With an amount this pitiful? Hang on to it--you'll need every last cent when the Gibson empire falls apart."
Those words wiped any patience from Roger's face. "Don't push it, Alexia."
Suddenly, Marilee's eyes shimmered with tears and her voice went brittle, as though her heart might break. "Please, Alexia, don't do this to Roger," she whimpered.
The crowd's attention snapped toward her as sobs and sniffles filled the space.
Marilee reached for the delicate pink diamond at her throat.
"Maybe you never knew, but Roger and I have loved each other for years. He gave me this necklace on your wedding day--it's a symbol of his devotion. That cherry blossom garden in your backyard? Roger built it just for me, hoping I'd smile. You stole my life. Everything you have should have been mine. Don't you think it's time you let go and left quietly, without asking for more?"
An uncomfortable hush settled over the room.
It was rare to see a mi**ress acting so brazenly, demanding the wife walk away with empty hands.
Finally, Alexia turned to meet Marilee's eyes, her voice colder than ice.
"I stole your life? Was it me who went to the Jenkins family, begging them to accept me? Was I the one who refused a DNA test and strutted around calling myself their true daughter? Did I chase after Roger, desperate for a marriage?"
Every pointed question shattered the silence, each one sharp enough to cut.
All color drained from Marilee's face, her body rigid beneath Alexia's icy stare.
Not missing a beat, Alexia delivered the final blow. "Go blame your own fo**ish parents."
That snapped the last of Marilee's restraint. "If it weren't for them, you'd still be digging through ga**age. You've been living a luxurious life for twenty years. Without them, you'd be nothing but a pauper."
A sharp laugh spilled from Alexia. Her gaze drifted to the faded needle marks on her wrist. "If this is what luxury looks like, I must have missed out. Pain, though? There was always enough of that to go around."
Disbelief filled Marilee's eyes, her words trembling with contempt.
"Lies. You grew up surrounded by filth--you're nothing but ga**age. If my parents hadn't stepped in, you'd be gone by now. Some gang would have had its way with you and left you in the gutter--"
The rest never left her mouth. A sharp s**p rang out, echoing in the room.
Stunned, Marilee pressed trembling fingers to the swelling red mark, speechless.
A cold smile curved Alexia's lips.
"There's nothing I despise more than people who never learned basic decency. The Jenkins family or not, I'd still be standing here as myself. But you? Without that divorce agreement, you're nothing more than a shameless mi**ress."
Not waiting for a reaction, Alexia hurled the signed divorce agreement straight at Marilee, landing the hit with brutal precision. "Think of it as my parting gift."
Marilee flinched as the edges nicked her forehead, letting out a startled cry. The shock left her shaking, the color draining from her lips.
Alexia watched the panic unraveling Marilee's composure, noticing the nervous twitch on her face.
Pretending to care, she cocked her head and offered, "Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?"
That question broke whatever restraint Marilee had left. "Why would you ever do that?" she snapped.
Alexia gave her a look laced with fake concern. "It just seems like you're not well at all."
Marilee's voice cracked as she screamed, "I am not sick!"
Even Roger turned, uncertain and uneasy as her shrill denial filled the room.
Unbothered, Alexia let her reply drip with venom, hitting every nerve.
"Funny. People who are actually unwell always insist they're fine. Might be time to book yourself a session with a psychiatrist. And before I forget...cute necklace. But honestly? Junk stones aren't worth much these days."
Marilee's face turned ashen, her fury and humiliation overwhelming her. Without warning, she collapsed straight into Roger's arms.
Anger carved hard lines into Roger's face as he pulled Marilee close, glaring at Alexia.
"I never realized you could be so cruel. Just because you wore my ring, you think you can say whatever you want?"
Before Alexia could offer a comeback, a familiar voice cut through the tension, heavy with mockery.
"Really? That's your angle? Just because she wore your ring, you think you could speak to her like that?"
A collective g**p swept through the crowd, all attention snapping to the doorway.
There, tall and dangerously handsome, a man entered, charm radiating effortlessly with every step.
......
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&5&
Her husband thought his mute wife was his to control and torment. However, when she demanded a divorce and left without looking back, her career soared, drawing a crowd of admirers. He panicked, chasing after her to beg for reconciliation.
=====
"Does it h*rt?" Every mu**le tense as a man struggled to coax a response from the woman pi**ed beneath him.
She resisted, her body stiff and unyielding, forcing him to try again and again.
Maybe it was the li**or dulling their senses, but his hand slid to her narrow waist, gently steering her closer, trying to ease the tension between them.
Only when the first light of dawn spilled across the tangled sh**ts did the two figures finally fall silent, ex**ustion overtaking them both.
The hush was broken by the hiss of water in the bathroom. Evelina Quinn stirred, emerging from the depths of sl**p.
Wrapped tightly in the blanket, she hugged herself, mind racing to piece together the fragments of last night.
Yesterday, she had celebrated her engagement to Cole Dawson.
Their families had gone all out for the event, hosting a lavish party crowded with powerful business associates from both sides.
Night had already settled in when Cole's friends gathered for dr**ks. Evelina, unable to voice her refusals, kept accepting glass after glass until the room blurred.
The last thing she remembered was Cole gently steering her toward the presidential suite at the very top.
The rest vanished in a haze of al**hol--except for the fragments that surfaced now and then: uneven breaths, and a night of pa**ion.
A sudden hush fell as the water in the bathroom cut off. The door swung open, sending out a warm rush of steam. A man strode out, a towel slung low on his h*ps, his powerful build unmistakable.
Evelina, recalling her first in**mate experience with her fiancé from last night, flushed and quickly looked away, her heart pounding as she struggled not to relive the intense moments that had unfolded in the dark.
"You are awake." Andreas Wright tilted an eyebrow, his gaze locked on Evelina curled beneath the covers.
Even now, a faint blush lingered on her soft cheeks, her skin so flawless he imagined a single to**h might leave a mark. He looked utterly enthralled, eyes glinting with a predatory satisfaction.
A chill threaded through Evelina as his voice broke the silence. That was not Cole's voice!
She jerked her head up, locking eyes with the man--and was instantly met with a stormy, penetrating stare that radiated raw dominance.
Shock drained the color from her face. The moment she recognized his features, her breath caught and her thoughts scattered, panic rising in her ch**t.
Tears slipped silently from her wide eyes, staining the tangled bedsheets.
The truth struck Evelina all at once--every trace of warmth and happiness from the previous night had come from a man she'd never even met.
Her whole body shook as silent sobs racked her frame, tears spilling down her cheeks. Panic and despair swallowed her, leaving her grasping for answers.
Her trembling hands flew through the air, signing again and again.
"Who are you? Why are you here? Were you really the one with me last night?"
Andreas blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he noticed she couldn't speak.
Now it made sense--her soundless cries and silent suffering from the night before.
He stared at her, eyes dark and impossible to read, the tension in the room thickening with every heartbeat.
Dragging in a heavy breath, Andreas pressed his fingers to his temples, fighting a throbbing headache and a wave of anger that burned in his ch**t.
He'd barely set foot back in the country before his old friends cornered him at a b*r, drowning him in dr**ks and shoving a ho**tel key into his hand as some sort of comforting gift for his breakup.
The room was heavy with shadows, the air thick from too many dr**ks. He could still recall how she had leaned in, stealing that first, unexpected k**s.
The thrill had swept him along, and in his in**xication, he'd never bothered to check who she was before giving in to the al**re.
Now, seeing her wide-eyed and shaken, he couldn't fathom her sudden panic--especially after she'd made the first move.
Andreas dragged a hand through his hair, lips twisting into a scornful half-smile. "Whatever you're trying to say, I don't get it. Just get dressed and go."
Evelina realized she couldn't stay hidden beneath the covers forever. She hurried into her clothes, at last, she forced herself to stand tall in front of him.
Andreas lingered near the window, caught off guard by the sight before him.
In the quiet glow of morning, Evelina stood there--her features delicate, eyes hauntingly luminous, lips bitten and faintly sw**len.
Her dark hair tumbled in wild tangles down her back, mascara smudged beneath eyes still rimmed red from crying. Even disheveled, she had an inexplicable al**re, vulnerable yet breathtaking.
The bed behind her was a chaotic mess, white sheets twisted and stained with a vivid red mark that drew Andreas's gaze, tightening something in his ch**t as the truth hit him--last night had been her first time.
Seeing her standing there, unwilling to leave, Andreas understood why. Without a word, he pulled out a stack of c**h and forced it into Evelina's hand.
He didn't bother to hide his contempt. "Will this cover it? Or do you want more..."
Before he could finish, Evelina hurled it straight at his ch**t, her eyes flashing with silent fury.
His expression twisted into a dangerous smirk.
"What's wrong? Not enough for you? My buddy already paid the middleman a fortune just to set this up. Didn't you check the going rate before selling yourself? Or are you trying to squeeze out a bigger payout? Keep dreaming..."
Evelina's s**p cracked through the room, stopping Andreas cold. He staggered, wiped the bl**d from his mouth, and shot her a look that could have ki**ed. For a moment, it seemed like he might lunge at her.
His voice dropped, rough and seething. "I don't care how you managed to get in here. But you're the one who threw yourself at me last night, so drop the act..."
Evelina couldn't stand another word. Choking back tears, she bolted from the room, her shoes crunching over the scattered money as she ran.
On the curb, she waved down a taxi with trembling hands, switched her phone back on, and was instantly flooded with missed calls and frantic messages.
She tapped her destination into her notes app and held it up for the driver to read.
City lights blurred past the window, but Evelina barely noticed. Her mind spun, replaying the man's harsh words on an endless loop.
None of it made sense. The stranger she'd woken up beside--how had her life unraveled so completely overnight?
The taxi finally pulled up in front of an imposing villa. Evelina paid and darted inside, desperate to retreat to her room, to scrub away every trace of the night beneath a hot shower.
But her hopes were dashed the moment she entered the villa. The living room overflowed with guests.
Every pair of eyes locked onto her: tangled hair, mascara streaked down her cheeks, swollen eyes, her dress wrinkled and twisted, red m**ks scattered along her neck--a silent confession no one could miss.
An icy hush fell. Then, with a theatrical sigh, her adopted sister Tessa Quinn broke the silence, lips curled in a smug little smile.
"Evelina, where have you been? We've all been worried sick. Cole nearly called the police looking for you."
Cole's expression darkened as his gaze lingered on the hi**eys along Evelina's neck, his eyes turning icy.
"Where were you last night? What did you do?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Every head swiveled toward Evelina, the Quinn family included.
They glared at her like she was something rotten dragged in from the street, their gazes brimming with contempt as they studied every shameful detail.
A storm of humiliation, bewilderment, and dread crashed through Evelina. Her hands shook as she signed the same question over and over, desperate for an explanation from Cole.
"Why did you abandon me at the hotel?"
Cole knew perfectly well what she was saying but feigned ignorance, choosing instead to weaponize his words and pin every accusation on Evelina, who was mute and cornered.
"We're engaged, Evelina. And you vanished for an entire night--now you come back covered in someone else's m**ks. Have you ever once thought about how that makes me feel?"
His accusations lashed out with the practiced pain of a master manipulator, veins bulging in his forehead, every inch the picture of a wounded lover.
Everyone felt sympathy for Cole, their eyes full of pity.
"Look at what she's done to poor Cole--how could she betray him, despite all the love he's given her?"
"What kind of upbringing did she have? No shame, no sense of decency. She's engaged to Cole, but she's out all night with another man. There's no way she could ever make a good wife."
The room buzzed with cruel whispers and barely contained contempt, accusations ricocheting through the crowd, some laced with biting insinuations.
Stunned and lost, Evelina stood frozen amid the barrage of in**lts.
The memories from last night were a haze of al**hol and confusion, but she remembered, with absolute clarity, that Cole had personally escorted her to the presidential suite.
Mute and defenseless, Evelina's frantic attempts to communicate were met with nothing but cold indifference.
With desperate motions, she tried to explain, "It's not like that at all. Let me make it clear!"
Cole seized the moment, his voice slicing through the noise, more eager to wound than to listen.
"We just got engaged, and you vanished to spend the night with another man. Evelina, I never thought you could be so sh**eless."
The motion in Evelina's hands faltered, her arms falling limp as tears shimmered in her wide, wounded eyes.
His tone icy, Cole pressed on. "I won't marry someone who betrays me. This engagement is over. Let's end things here."
With panic rising, Evelina's gestures grew frantic. "I didn't betray you. Did you set me up?"
Grabbing the front of his shirt, she tried to force him to look at her--only to spot a fresh k**s mark blooming on his neck.
The realization barely registered before a brutal s**p landed across her face.
Her father, Albin Quinn, stood over her, hand trembling from the blow, his rage burning through every word.
"Sh**eless s**t! Have you lost all decency? Where is your sense of honor?"
Chapter 2 Who Truly Belonged In This Family
"Albin!" A gray-haired elder's voice cut through the room like a whip, his cane slamming against the floor with a resonant thud.
Slowly pushing himself upright from the sofa, he fixed Albin with a piercing glare, his features carved in stone.
"By now, don't you think it's time you gave me an explanation?" he demanded, his tone heavy with authority.
"I've long kept my distance from the private matters of the younger generation, but this--this is not something I can overlook. Our family has stood firmly behind you all these years. Without the financial lifeline extended by Dawson Group's bank, your family would've crumbled into bankruptcy long ago."
Albin's complexion went ashen with fury, but the weight of the situation forced him to lower his head in bitter submission. "We'll always remember the Dawson family's generosity, but..."
His eyes darted to Evelina, burning with silent blame. If looks could k**l, she'd have vanished on the spot. She was the one who'd ruined everything.
With no other option, he had to swallow the humiliation of being the one to end the engagement.
But Gerald Dawson, Cole's grandfather, slammed down his decision before Albin could speak.
"The engagement will not be dissolved," he pronounced, his tone final--leaving no room for debate.
Worried Gerald would coerce him for the family's benefit, Cole blurted out, "Grandpa, I won't marry a woman who's betrayed me. She's mute and has sl**t with someone else. How am I supposed to face anyone after this? Everyone will think I'm a joke."
At first, Cole had only agreed to the engagement because Evelina's beauty was unmatched in all of Uclard--no one could deny that.
Still, every time he remembered her muteness, a wave of discomfort rose in his ch**t. The idea of a wife who couldn't even g**p his name in b*d unsettled him in ways he hated to admit.
What gnawed at him most was his obsession with Tessa, who was bold and free-spirited where Evelina was guarded and distant.
Tessa was the girl he'd grown up with. That reckless night when he finally gave in to te**tation and sl**t with her had left them both reeling--Tessa had sobbed in his arms, insisting he take responsibility for what they'd done.
Cole relented at her pleading and agreed to marry her.
If marriage was inevitable, he'd rather settle for someone less striking but easier to control than Evelina, who always seemed impossible to please and kept everyone at arm's length.
The night before, he'd orchestrated the whole fiasco himself, scheming for a way out of his engagement to Evelina.
If only Tessa hadn't been keeping an eye on him, he would have spent a pa**ionate night with Evelina himself and made it look like she'd betrayed him--instead of letting another man sl**p with her.
Now, he had no idea which lucky man had gotten her laid.
His gaze slid shamelessly over Evelina, taking in the curve of her b**e shoulder. His mind drifted, imagining her gr**ning and m**ning be**ath another man, wishing he were that man.
Catching the direction of his thoughts, Tessa's lips twisted, jealousy and resentment flashing in her eyes. Deep down, she vowed she'd see to it that Evelina's reputation was shattered for good.
Suddenly, Tessa's honeyed tone pierced the tension, yanking everyone back to the present. "Evelina, hurry up and apologize to Cole."
A deep shadow settled over Gerald's features. He finally spoke up. "The engagement stands. The Quinn family, after all, has more than one daughter to offer."
Instantly, all eyes in the room drifted to Evelina and Tessa, who stood side by side.
The defiance on Cole's face evaporated. He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly as docile as a scolded child who'd been handed a treat.
A rosy flush crept up Tessa's cheeks, and she shrank behind her adoptive mother, Joanna Quinn.
Her gentle, bashful act only heightened the guests' disdain for Evelina's supposed sh**eful behavior.
Evelina, rooted in place, felt all color drain from her face. She watched helplessly as Cole's gaze lingered on Tessa, the two exchanging sly, knowing glances that spoke volumes.
Low murmurs rippled among the guests.
Years ago, the Quinn couple's world had shattered when their daughter vanished.
Joanna's grief had nearly broken her, until the family adopted a girl from an orphanage--a gentle, timid child who quickly became the new center of their lives.
That girl was none other than Tessa.
After a decade, the police had shown up out of the blue, clutching a DNA report--a perfect match for the long-lost Quinn daughter.
Whispers swept through the city, fueling speculation. Desperate to protect their reputation, the Quinn family publicly welcomed back their biological daughter, Evelina, a girl who had weathered years of hardship.
They even declared both Evelina and Tessa part of the family, refusing to send Tessa away even after finding their lost child.
Yet, Evelina's life in the past few years had been anything but charmed.
At seventeen, she'd lost her adoptive mother in a devastating car crash, and the shock had stolen her voice--leaving her with a silent world she couldn't escape.
In every way--her grace, beauty, and bearing--Evelina eclipsed Tessa, save for one cruel detail: she couldn't speak.
A few years ago, when the Quinn family's business teetered on collapse, the Dawson family's bank swooped in with a lifesaving investment.
Their help had resurrected the Quinn family's fortune.
Business ties had pulled the Quinn and Dawson families closer, making a marriage alliance feel almost inevitable.
The families' elders soon settled on the idea, seeing it as the best way to secure their mutual interests for years to come.
At first, the plan was simple: Tessa, raised in the Quinn household, would marry Cole, her childhood companion.
But stability mattered more than sentiment. The Dawson family insisted on Evelina instead.
After all, she was the Quinn family's true daughter by bl**d. That way, there could be no question of loyalty, no last-minute denial of the connection.
With Evelina's reputation now in ruins, her chance to marry into the Dawson family vanished overnight. Yet family interests still took priority.
Gerald reluctantly accepted Tessa as Cole's new bride, seeing no other way to keep the alliance intact.
"Maybe we can talk about this another time. I'd rather not rush Tessa into marriage," Joanna burst out, breaking her silence as she tried to shield Tessa from the marriage plans.
Evelina watched the scene unfold with a numb, frosty detachment. No one had bothered asking if she wanted this marriage.
She'd only ever been a bargaining chip--nothing more than a pawn for the Quinn family to trade away for profit. If marriage was possible for her, why was Tessa any different?
Her lips twisted in a bitter, mocking smile as she glanced around the room, searching for a single sympathetic face. None met her eyes.
Even her own bl**d family regarded her as a burden, treating Tessa as if she were the trueborn daughter.
To those who didn't know any better, it seemed that Tessa belonged here, not her.
Evelina's icy gaze lingered on Tessa. She remembered those first days after being brought home--the careful way everyone tiptoed around Tessa's feelings, the endless gifts, the gentle reassurances, the way the Quinn family poured all their warmth into a girl who wasn't even theirs by birth.
In contrast, the Quinns had not shown even a trace of affection toward their biological daughter, Evelin
Tessa was bright and charming, a natural favorite, while Evelina's silence made her easy to overlook.
Seventeen years old and thrust back into a house that never truly welcomed her, Evelina learned quickly that her parents had no love left for her since Tessa absorbed all of it.
At the Quinn family estate, Evelina's bedroom was barely more than a broom closet tucked beside the maid's quarters, cramped and windowless, while Tessa's was a sprawling, sunlit suite fit for a storybook princess.
Evelina's monthly allowance was a meager five hundred dollars--barely enough to cover necessities. Each day, she squeezed onto a crowded bus just to get to school.
Meanwhile, Joanna fussed endlessly over Tessa's safety, insisting on a private driver and assigning a dedicated maid to serve up elaborate meals.
If Tessa grew tired of home-cooked meals, she could simply call for a reservation at any luxury restaurant in the city. Her spending money? An unlimited credit card.
While Evelina packed her bags for a crowded public boarding school, Tessa was chauffeured each day to Uclard's most elite academy.
Evelina rotated through the handful of worn clothes she'd salvaged from her old life. Meanwhile, Tessa's closets overflowed with dazzling dresses and luxury handbags, every item carefully curated and never worn twice.
When Tessa turned eighteen, the driveway sparkled with a cherry-red sports car topped with a velvet bow.
Evelina's own eighteenth birthday slipped by in silence--no cake, no cards, not even a whispered acknowledgment.
Their birthdays were only two days apart, but each year Evelina stood at the edge of Tessa's lavish celebration, watching from the shadows as the family gathered to shower Tessa with gifts and affection.
No one ever seemed to notice when Evelina's day arrived, let alone mark it with a simple wish.
The family worried constantly about Tessa, terrified she'd be sacrificed in some marriage alliance, but not once did anyone pause to wonder what Evelina wanted--her engagement to a total stranger decided without a whisper of concern for her.
Sometimes, Evelina questioned who truly belonged in this family.
She stood invisible in her own home. Ignored by her parents, betrayed by the man she was supposed to marry and her adoptive sister, she was left with nothing but silent humiliation.
Her entire life felt like a twisted punchline to someone else's joke--her very existence a mistake no one wanted to acknowledge.
Chapter 3 Harold's Birthday Banquet
Evelina barely remembered how she'd left the Quinns' house that day, her mind shrouded in a fog she had no interest in clearing.
She wanted nothing more to do with their lives, yet Tessa managed to shove her new reality in Evelina's face at every turn--never passing up a chance to parade her engagement for the world to see.
Evelina found refuge in a cramped apartment near her office--forty square meters of solitude with bare white walls, a partitioned bathroom, and secondhand furniture that rattled when she brushed past.
But it was hers alone, a fragile boundary the Quinn family couldn't cross.
On a rainy evening, Tessa's barrage of Instagram updates finally pushed Evelina past her limit. She intended to block Tessa, but her finger slipped and opened the latest post instead.
Tessa had outdone herself: a glossy photo of the Quinn family's sunlit living room, glittering with a rainbow of jewelry and a proud heap of property deeds fanned out across the coffee table.
Her caption screamed across the screen: "This is what my parents gave me: wedding gifts that arrived early, worth over ten million!"
Scrolling through Tessa's feed felt like wading through a fever dream of luxury--sleek sports cars lined up like trophies, designer handbags scattered across tufted beds, rows of couture dresses and diamonds sparkling in the light.
Even the family group chat screenshots stung: Albin, usually all sharp edges, joking and affectionate; Joanna, who had never spared Evelina a kind word, oozing warmth and doting on Tessa.
To the world, they looked like the perfect family--close-knit, glamorous, and overflowing with love. Who wouldn't be jealous?
A bitter, lopsided smile tugged at Evelina's lips. The family chat group consisted of only three members--she hadn't even been added.
The last time Albin and Joanna messaged her, it was to strong-arm her into that arranged marriage, all while feigning concern as they discussed wedding gifts.
"We'll keep the wedding gifts here for you," they had insisted.
"Otherwise, the Dawson family will just take everything once you move in. But don't worry, we ordered some lovely silk blankets just for you."
Looking back, she almost laughed at how naïve she'd been to feel even a flicker of gratitude.
For Tessa--who wasn't even related by bl**d--they handed out houses and flashy cars, filling the mansion with glittering jewelry and luxury gifts, terrified their precious girl might suffer after marrying into the Dawson family.
For Evelina, though, their only worry was whether she had enough blankets.
With a single decisive tap, Evelina blocked her parents and Tessa. Her reputation was already in ruins; they probably wished she would vanish for good, sparing them further embarrassment.
She took a steadying breath, smoothing down her nerves for the workday ahead.
Pulling on a high-necked undershirt beneath her uniform, she hid the fresh m**ks that mottled her skin--especially the dark, unmistakable hi**eys scattered along her neck.
Evelina held a key position at Rise Bank, one of the country's top private banks with branches scattered across every major city skyline.
She specialized in credit operations--scrutinizing and approving every loan application before landing in the hands of the department director, Jordy Bailey.
The department couldn't process a single case without her sign-off.
Yet, Evelina's aphasia complicated daily life. She couldn't use sign language during client meetings; no one else in the room would understand her.
Still, her impressive résumé--dual degrees in finance and business management--had prompted Rise Bank to bend their usual rules to bring her on board.
Of course, her entry into the bank hadn't relied solely on credentials. Her schoolmate, Jordy, had put in a good word for her at just the right moment.
One afternoon, Jordy swept into her office with his trademark easy charm, placing a thick folder on her desk.
"Wright Group's credit documents--dig in as soon as you can. Leadership wants us to nail down a relationship with them. Their annual cash flow hits the billions. If we lock in this partnership, year-end bonuses will skyrocket."
His gentle manner and bright smile made him a favorite among the younger women in the office, though he seemed oblivious to his own popularity.
Evelina inclined her head in silent agreement, her practiced composure betraying no hint of nerves.
She had managed credit cases so often that the process felt as natural as breathing.
Jordy leaned in, his tone casual but eyes intent. "I'll be out of town on the third--flying to Otresh for meetings. You'll need to go in my place to Harold Wright's birthday banquet."
With that, he slid an ornate, crimson invitation across the desk.
A flicker of confusion crossed Evelina's face as she glanced at the invitation.
"I've already arranged for your dress," Jordy continued, offering a reassuring smile as he reached over to ruffle her hair--a gesture that lingered a second too long.
"All you need to do is deliver the gift I picked out and show your face at the banquet."
That brief, affectionate touch unsettled her, but Evelina chose not to dwell on it. She quickly lifted her hands, signing her question, her brows knitted with concern. "Me?"
Catching the hesitation in her eyes, Jordy's expression softened with genuine concern.
"All you have to do is show up, use my invitation, and hand over the gift. You don't need to mingle with anyone," he said, his voice low and reassuring.
A knot of anxiety tightened in Evelina's ch**t. She dreaded the thought of stumbling or making a scene--anything that might embarrass Jordy or jeopardize his trust in her.
Sensing her unease, Jordy leaned in, his tone gentle but insistent. "Landing this Wright Group deal is crucial for us. My dad pulled some strings to get this invitation--it wasn't easy. Please, Evelina, just this once."
He had opened countless doors for her over the years. She owed him more than she could ever repay, and this--walking into a banquet with the city's elite--was a small price compared to all he'd done.
Plenty of people would die for a chance to mingle with the Wright family; she'd be a f**l to turn it down.
Evelina drew a steady breath, steadied her nerves, and signed her agreement, a grateful smile lighting up her face. "Alright, I'll go."
A month slipped by, and the Wrights' house erupted with activity--valets darted between a parade of high-end cars stacked along the roadside.
Evelina exited her taxi at the curb, cradling an ornate wooden gift box against her side.
Rather than mingle with the fleet of luxury vehicles, she slipped quietly down the sidewalk, preferring to approach on foot and escape notice.
Even so, her graceful figure and composed presence drew more than a few sidelong stares through the crowd.
As the line of high-end cars came to a standstill, heads in designer interiors swiveled to follow her.
The apricot dress Jordy had chosen hugged her silhouette with subtle, sculpted lines, the neckline and slim waist artfully showcased by intricate tailoring.
She wore her hair in a simple, low ponytail, no jewelry gleaming at her throat or ears--yet something about her air made her impossible to overlook.
An attendant, waiting by the door, ushered her briskly inside.
Just as she crossed the threshold, a jet-black Bentley glided to a halt at the front of the drive, calmly claiming the best spot as the waiting crowd parted in quiet recognition.
Reclining in the backseat, Andreas lounged in a perfectly fitted suit, his long legs casually crossed.
His expression betrayed nothing but boredom as he glanced out at the commotion beyond the tinted window.
Reclining in the backseat, Andreas lounged in a perfectly fitted suit, his long legs casually crossed. His expression betrayed nothing but boredom as he glanced out at the commotion beyond the tinted window.
The butler, ever composed, replied, "Your grandmother notified us two months ago. She wanted you to start immersing yourself in the company's business. Her plan was to return right before your grandfather's birthday--just in time for the family reunion."
Without waiting for the rest of the line to move, the butler opened Andreas's door with practiced efficiency, ignoring the annoyed drivers in the luxury cars behind them, all desperate to attend Harold's eightieth birthday banquet.
For Andreas, though, this was just a reluctant homecoming.
After five years away, the Wrights' house felt both familiar and alien. Staff hustled through the courtyard, assembling a lavish dessert display while elegant guests mingled beside the music-flecked fountain.
Andreas strode inside, his composure unshakable, his presence commanding attention without a word.
He cut a striking figure in his immaculate suit, angular jaw and cold, mesmerizing eyes drawing lingering glances from everyone he passed--yet his demeanor remained distant, untouched by the celebration swirling around him.
His striking good looks drew a flurry of furtive glances from the city's privileged young ladies, yet none dared approach--his presence radiated an icy confidence that kept everyone at bay.
Evelina, uncomfortable amidst the chatter and bright lights, quietly handed the gift for Harold to the attendant and slipped away to the edge of the crowd.
She pressed a hand to her temple, a wave of nausea rising as the sweet scent of desserts mingled with the sharp tang of ch**pagne.
Her stomach had been unsettled for days, each bout of nausea arriving without warning.
A familiar voice suddenly cut through the noise. "Evelina--what brings you here?"
Tessa swept in, somehow armed with an invitation, peacocking through the crowd in a dazzling dress.
Every gesture was staged for effect--the way she swirled her w**e, the tilt of her chin, the flash of the diamond ring on her right hand.
The same ring, Evelina realized, that the Dawson family had chosen for her own engagement party--now glinting shamelessly on Tessa's finger, barely two months later.
Evelina's patience frayed. She had no desire for drama and moved to slip away, but Tessa, with a practiced turn, blocked her path, refusing to let her escape so easily.
Tessa's voice dripped with mockery. "Evelina, everyone's talking about your little scandal. If I were you, I'd have the decency to stay home instead of further tarnishing our family's name."
Evelina barely spared Tessa a glance, the corners of her eyes cold and sharp with quiet disdain.
She watched Tessa's theatrics, easily reading the script--provoke her, stir up a scene, then pin the fallout on her for the whole Wright family to see.
She refused to play into such an obvious ploy. With an icy composure, Evelina turned to leave, ignoring Tessa entirely.
But just as she took a step, someone's foot pinned her elaborate gown. The heavy skirt snagged, and Evelina pitched forward, unable to catch herself.
Glass crashed spectacularly against the manicured lawn as an entire pyramid of ch**pagne flutes toppled with her, the shattering echo cutting through the party and snapping every head in her direction.
Chapter 4 Are You Pregnant
Shattered ch**pagne flutes and toppled dessert trays littered the grass, the once-perfect refreshment station now a chaotic wreck.
Guests clustered in the courtyard, murmuring and craning their necks to witness the spectacle.
Lounging on the chair, Andreas barely listened to his grandmother, Ruby Wright, as she pressed him--yet again--to settle down. His attention drifted, distracted, until a surge of noise outside drew him from his reverie.
With an air of idle amusement, he tipped his head to one side, narrowing his eyes as he sized up anyone bold enough to challenge the Wright family gathering.
For Andreas, petty power plays were standard fare among the privileged. He assumed this was just another desperate bid for attention and felt no urge to get involved.
Instead, he stretched, then rose from his seat, determined to escape upstairs from his grandmother's nagging.
The Quinn family's drama was an open book to everyone present. Their tangled household--one biological daughter, one adopted--was notorious for its constant friction.
Rumors had swirled since the engagement fiasco--Evelina, the Quinn family's legitimate daughter, had supposedly been caught cheating on the very day of her engagement. The Dawson family was furious.
To prevent their carefully arranged marriage alliance from falling apart, the Quinns' adopted daughter Tessa took Evelina's place to get engaged with Cole.
Now, the courtyard was a stage for fresh humiliation. Evelina sprawled across the grass, her dress soaked with ch**pagne, a glaring stain blooming across the delicate neckline.
Dozens of guests hovered nearby, their faces alight with anticipation, as whispers rippled through the crowd.
Erick Watson, a friend of Andreas, spoke up as he spotted Evelina on the ground through the floor-to-ceiling window, her hands flashing in frantic signs. "Hey, is she mute?"
The question snapped Andreas out of his apathy. He turned from the staircase, gaze sharp as he peered through the window.
When he recognized Evelina, a storm of emotion swept over him--his jaw tightened, bl**d icing over as his hands curled at his sides.
Oblivious, Erick continued with a mocking snicker, "Did she get shoved by that woman next to her? Talk about misery--she can't even yell for help."
Although Erick hadn't meant any harm, his careless words yanked Andreas straight back to that morning after their pa**ionate night.
Evelina had been seething with unspoken grievances, her hands flying as she tried again and again to pour her heart out in sign language.
Now, wincing through the sharp throb in her ankle, she forced herself upright and stared at Tessa. "Did you deliberately step on my dress to make me fall?"
"Let go of me!" Tessa hissed, wriggling to break free, her eyes burning with spite.
This time, Evelina refused to play along. With her grip tightening on Tessa's wrist, the last shred of politeness shattered, her expression stone-cold as she held her ground.
Although Harold had officially retired, his authority still loomed over the city, untouched by age or absence.
The Wright family remained the pinnacle of Uclard's elite--an old-money dynasty with tendrils in every corridor of power.
Andreas' father, Millard Wright, had transformed Wright Group into Uclard's financial juggernaut.
Their empire spanned everything from gleaming high-rises and tech startups to private hospitals and luxury hotels, making the Wright family untouchable and their coffers bottomless.
Despite years of being spoiled by the Quinn family, Tessa had never experienced a grand party like this one.
Underneath her polished façade, she nursed a deep-rooted insecurity--something that even their constant indulgence couldn't cure.
Terrified of losing her place, Tessa had clawed her way to the Quinn family's affection, manipulating every advantage she could.
She'd gone so far as to se**ce Cole, desperate to keep Evelina from taking the spotlight.
Tessa always felt Evelina's shadow looming behind her, threatening to unravel everything she possessed.
That was why she seized every opportunity to sabotage Evelina, hoping the woman would be despised and abandoned by her own family.
Whenever petty quarrels broke out, the Quinn family inevitably excused Tessa's cruelty toward Evelina.
Still, she understood Albin better than anyone--he was calculating and ruthless, and if her antics ever threatened the family's standing, he'd cut her loose in a heartbeat.
Offending the Wright family was a risk the Quinn family couldn't take.
They had gone to great lengths to secure an invitation to Harold's birthday banquet, desperate to keep up appearances in front of the city's elite.
They couldn't risk the slightest misstep, let alone a scandal.
Tessa's confidence faltered as she realized just how precarious their position was.
The moment she imagined the consequences of causing a scene, all the color drained from her face.
Still, a flicker of relief crossed her mind--at least Evelina was mute. No matter what happened, Evelina couldn't call her out or expose her tricks in front of these powerful guests.
Forcing a sweet, conciliatory tone, Tessa stepped closer. "Evelina, I know you're not fond of me, but let's not create trouble at a place like this," she murmured, her voice dripping with false concern.
She reached out as if to steady Evelina, playing the part of a caring sister. But Evelina sidestepped her hand in one sharp motion.
Evelina held herself with chilling composure, eyes glinting as she leveled a silent warning at Tessa, who fidgeted uneasily beneath her gaze.
Her designer dress, now ruined by spilled li**or and smeared caviar, clung to her uncomfortably.
The overwhelming sweetness in the air turned her stomach; she pressed a trembling hand to her lips, fighting the urge to gag. The involuntary motion only deepened the suspicion swirling among the onlookers.
Pretending to care, Tessa's soft words were loud enough for everyone to hear. "Evelina, are you pr**nant?"
The words sliced through the murmurs like a bl**e, and Evelina's heart clenched. She longed to deny it, to set the record straight, but a fresh wave of nausea rose, halting her before she could muster the strength.
The guests didn't hesitate to draw their own conclusions. After all, Evelina's public disgrace--the annulled engagement, the sc**dal of infidelity--was still fresh in their minds.
To them, this was just the next sordid chapter.
Their stares burned into her like branding irons, heavy with contempt and barely disguised curiosity.
Evelina lowered her gaze, her shoulders stiff with humiliation.
She had long grown used to the cruel whispers, the unrelenting judgment, and yet each venomous glance left her feeling more ex**sed, more powerless.
She stood there in suffocating silence, letting their gossip tighten around her like a noose.
Andreas lingered by the towering window, his silhouette sharp against the glass.
A thunderous look shadowed his face as he beckoned the butler with a flick of his wrist. "Bring her to my suite. She needs a change of clothes," he commanded flatly.
As his gaze slid over to Tessa--the root of the chaos--his eyes narrowed, cold and merciless. "Get that woman the h**l out of my sight."
From the sofa across the room, Erick perked up, surprise glinting in his eyes.
He sprang to his feet. "Andreas, since when did you start playing hero? Could she actually be one of your ex-girlfriends?"
He stretched his neck, angling for a clearer view of Evelina through the glass.
Ignoring Erick's theatrics, Andreas shoved his hands deep into his pockets and strode away, his expression grim, heading for the stairs without so much as a backward glance.
From his place at the window, Erick let out a low whistle. "Never thought I'd see Andreas go soft over a woman!" he exclaimed, watching as the butler led Evelina out of the fray.
Tessa, on the other hand, met a harsher fate--her bravado wilted as a group of black-suited bodyguards quietly ushered her out past the gawking guests.
Ruby, a woman of deep faith who rarely missed a Sunday at church, never ceased to worry about Andreas' future.
Among Uclard's upper crust, whispers circulated about Andreas--the Wright family's only son--claiming he was incapable of producing an heir.
Unlike other wealthy heirs who chased nightlife and splashed out on starlets, Andreas was a study in restraint, never getting involved in such frivolities.
Despite his seven years with his ex, there had not been a hint of a child.
The rumor only gained traction with time, yet the Wright family neither acknowledged nor refuted it. No one dared broach the subject openly, so the truth hung in the air as ta**alizing gossip.
Ruby watched Evelina being quietly led upstairs. Andreas' sudden protectiveness was deeply out of character, and it caught her attention at once.
The guests just whispered that the woman might be pr**nant. Could it be that she had something to do with Andreas and was carrying his child?
The very possibility sent a rush of hope through Ruby.
Chapter 5 Don't Think You Can Use A Pregnancy As Leverage
Evelina trailed the butler up the grand staircase, her nerves tightening with every step along the dimly lit, vintage hallway.
Her ruined dress whispered over the polished wood, each soft swish echoing in the hush.
At the final door, the butler paused, then glanced back at her. "You'll find fresh clothes inside. Please make yourself comfortable."
Evelina signed her appreciation with a subtle smile. "Thank you."
He offered a polite nod and retreated down the corridor, his footsteps fading until she was alone with her unease.
She stared at the door, bracing herself. With a steadying breath, she pushed open the door.
The scent of sandalwood greeted her--crisp, masculine, oddly comforting.
The room was steeped in old-world elegance: heavy velvet drapes, dark paneled walls, a vast bed, and, just off to the side, a walk-in closet lined with pristine white shirts and sleek, tailored suits.
Behind glass, an array of luxury watches caught the faint light, their polished faces glinting.
It hit her then--this was a man's bedroom, and she was trespassing. Evelina froze on the threshold, her posture wary, not daring to venture further.
A deep, sardonic voice broke the silence. "Are you planning to stand there in that filthy dress all night, or do you intend to change?"
A wave of memories crashed over her, and Evelina instantly recognized the man's unmistakable voice from that night. Instinctively, she took a step back, her pulse thudding in her throat.
Andreas moved fast, blocking her escape, eyes narrowing as he scanned her from head to toe.
For a split second their gazes collided, and all color drained from Evelina's cheeks. She recoiled, putting another step between them.
He caught her wrist in an unyielding grip, his stare dropping from her trembling face to her stomach.
His jaw tightened, an unreadable storm flickering across his features as he ground out, almost against his will. "Whose is it?"
Baffled, Evelina could only stare back, confusion clouding her expression.
Andreas didn't let up. Instead, he pressed forward, trapping her between his body and the cabinet behind her. The difference in their height made her attempts to resist feel almost laughable.
She twisted away, stubbornly turning her face from the heat of his breath, refusing to meet his searching eyes.
In one swift movement, Andreas' strong hands circled her waist, effortlessly lifting her onto the cabinet so she was eye-level with him.
He braced both arms on either side of her, caging her in, his gaze boring into her soul. "Are you pr**nant? Who is the father of your baby?"
Evelina's cheeks flushed with humiliation and anger as the implication dawned on her. She shot Andreas a fierce glare, instinctively shielding her belly with both hands.
She stared him down, but Andreas had little patience for silent defiance. He dug his thumb into the delicate bones of her wrist, voice low and forceful.
"Look at me. Answer me."
......
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&5&
Free from her ex-husband, she unveiled her hidden identities, dazzling the world and thriving. The regretful ex chased after her, a diamond ring in hand, pleading for reconciliation. But a business tycoon had him dragged away, saying, "Piss off. She's my wife."
=====
"Let's end this marriage."
That single sentence was all it took to plunge Christina Jones into a woman unwanted by a wealthy family.
Three years of loyalty to her husband, Brendon Dawson, had bought her nothing but heartbreak.
On the day that should have marked a joyful third anniversary, Christina had gone to Brendon's office, eager to invite him out to celebrate.
Stepping inside, her eyes fell immediately on an ornate necklace gleaming atop his desk. She had believed the necklace was meant for her.
However, Brendon noticed her stare and snapped the jewelry box shut with a careless hand.
"Yolanda's come back. This is her present," he explained, his words sharp and cool, making sure there was no room left for misunderstanding.
Everything became painfully clear in that instant. Christina dropped her gaze, thick-rimmed glasses doing little to mask the ache and disappointment swimming in her eyes.
Brendon's old flame, Yolanda Mitchell, had returned and reclaimed her place in his heart.
Meanwhile, Christina realized that after three years at Brendon's side, she'd never really belonged there--never held his love, always on the outside, now set aside like something worn out and unnecessary.
Irritation creased Brendon's brow, his patience fraying as he watched Christina stand silently, shoulders slumped.
"I'll make sure you're compensated. Let's get this over with and move on. Don't kid yourself into thinking you belong where you never did," he said, his voice cold and final.
Honestly, Brendon had never found fault with Christina's appearance, figure, or way of managing the household. The thing was, she simply bored him.
In his eyes, she was flavorless--a meal that left him unsatisfied, easy to set aside. Efficiency in the home didn't make her the woman he longed for.
Christina's silence only deepened the lines in Brendon's forehead. His tone grew cold. "You've got three days to make up your mind. Don't test my patience--I won't wait forever."
Without a flicker of hesitation, Christina replied, "No need for more time. I'll sign right now." She calmly picked up the pen and wrote her name on the divorce papers.
Together, they went through the motions at court, and soon every legal formality was behind them.
Walking out, Christina felt a heavy ache in her ch*st, yet a strange sense of freedom crept in as well.
The hope of ever reaching Brendon's heart was gone--she would no longer waste her life in a one-sided relationship.
From now on, there'd be no more oscillating between hope and heartbreak, no more self-inflicted wounds from loving a man who couldn't love her back.
Lingering pain had felt like dying by a thousand tiny cuts; best to finish it all at once. Now, at last, it was done--irrevocably finished.
A sudden ring from Brendon's phone broke into Christina's reverie. He answered, worry quickly sharpening his features. "What? Yolanda's been hospitalized? I'm on my way
With no farewell, Brendon rushed to his car and sped away, never pausing to offer Christina a ride or even a second glance.
Whenever Yolanda was involved, Brendon would abandon everything, swept up in thoughts of her alone.
As soon as Brendon disappeared, a sleek black-and-red Bugatti rolled to a stop right in front of Christina.
Out hopped Davina Morris, Christina's closest friend, sporting a bold outfit and a wide, mischievous grin.
"Freedom looks good on you, Christina. Congratulations on finally escaping that mess."
With a flick of her wrist, Davina tossed the keys to Christina, eyes twinkling. "How about something a little crazy tonight?"
Catching the car keys with effortless charm, Christina simply walked over and sat behind the wheel. "Hop in," she said, no hesitation in her voice.
Davina wasted no time in settling into the passenger seat. With a stomp on the accelerator, Christina left the courthouse--and the past--far behind.
The Bugatti tore down Azure Highway, the engine's roar mixing exhilaration with a sense of release.
"We really ought to hit a b*r to celebrate. If you hadn't held me back, I would've uncorked a bottle and doused that j**k with it right then and there," Davina said, her indignation bubbling over.
"You pick the place. But first, I need a stop at the salon," Christina answered, her calm belying her need for a bit of reckless fun.
Davina shot her a side glance. "Three years off the radar, and people are still searching for you. When are you going to reclaim your crown and turn the medical world upside down again?"
A shrug was all Christina offered. "Haven't made any plans yet," she replied, voice cool and detached.
A sharp, almost mocking laugh slipped from Davina.
"Word is, your ex is tearing up the city trying to track the legendary doctor King down, desperate to save his precious sweetheart. Imagine his face if he ever learns you're actually King."
Not a word left Christina's lips. She just stared ahead, her expression unreadable.
......
Meanwhile, Brendon's car raced through traffic, his nerves raw with worry. He dialed his secretary mid-drive. "Still no progress on King's whereabouts?"
King's reputation echoed around the globe, a healer wrapped in legend and secrecy, vanished without a trace for three years.
All attempts to locate King had led nowhere. The doctor's true identity remained a puzzle--no one had ever seen King's face, nor even confirmed their gender.
The secretary's voice crackled through the line. "We've contacted everyone we know, Mr. Dawson, but King is still missing."
Brendon's brow furrowed. "Don't stop until you find King. I don't care what it takes!"
"We'll keep at it!"
Restlessness gnawed at Brendon as he pulled into the hospital's parking lot and bolted toward the entrance.
No matter how high the price, he wouldn't stop searching for King--Yolanda's life depended on it.
Chapter 2 Raise The Stakes
In the Vertbrook B*r, Christina slid off her black-rimmed glasses and tucked them into her hands. Without them, her eyes sparkled with mischief and warmth.
Gone was the flat, straight hair she always wore like armor. Now it flowed in waves, framing her face like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.
With that red lipstick and confident glow, she turned heads without trying.
She moved like someone who'd shed a skin. Whatever plain, quiet version of herself used to exist at home--she wasn't here tonight.
Davina leaned in, swirling the straw in her c**ktail. "Hey, there's a shooting match next week. You thinking of signing up?"
"Not a chance," Christina replied without missing a beat. "It's been forever. My hands aren't as steady as they used to be."
"Come on, who cares?" Davina flashed a teasing grin. "Use it to blow off some steam. Picture Brendon's face on the bullseye and go full demolition mode."
A low chuckle slipped out as Christina brought her glass to her lips. "That's t**pting."
"Right?" Davina grinned, her tone rising with excitement.
"Oh--and guess who's going to be there? Dillan. The guy who almost knocked you out four years ago. You bailed, and now he's been hogging the spotlight ever since."
Davina didn't wait for Christina to respond as she added, "And get this--the prize this year is a custom Bugatti. Not a model you can just go out and buy. One of a kind."
She passed her phone to Christina without missing a beat. "Here. Take a look at the competition."
Christina flipped through the details in seconds. The prize money wasn't the only thing catching her attention.
What really stood out was the twist--contestants would be hidden behind masks and aliases. But whoever came out on top? They'd get to force the others to show their real faces.
"If you enter and win, you have to make Dillan take off his mask. I need to know what that guy looks like!" Davina exclaimed.
"Okay." Christina gave her w**eglass a gentle swirl. The corners of her mouth curled into a teasing grin. "If I show up, I'm not just going to play. I'm going to raise the stakes.
Davina tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Alright then, tell me--what exactly are you thinking?"
Christina shot Davina a sly grin. "Let everyone know--whoever takes the crown this year gets a personal session with King. No expiry date, either. As long as they meet King's terms, the deal stands."
Davina nearly spilled her d**nk. "You're kidding! If that gets out, people are going to crawl over each other just to sign up. This thing's about to blow up."
"I'm heading to the restroom." Without another word, Christina rose from her seat.
She didn't make it far before a small crowd of men stepped into her path, their swagger loud enough to silence the room.
"Well, look what we've got here," one of them said, grinning. "You look like you could use some company. How about a drink?"
They l**red at her, scanning her from head to toe like she was something they could own.
Ice filled Christina's gaze. Her voice dropped like a warning. "Move."
That only seemed to encourage them. "Feisty," one of them said with a chuckle. "We like a girl who makes things interesting."
Christina didn't flinch. "Last chance. Get out of my way."
Instead of stepping out of her way, one of them whistled, reaching out a hand toward her ch*st with a l**d grin.
That was all it took. Christina snapped his wrist before his fingers even brushed her. The sickening crunch made the whole group freeze.
The man yelped, "What the h*ll--"
The other men didn't get the chance to retaliate. Christina moved like a storm. A kick to the knee. An elbow to the jaw. One by one, she dropped them with cold precision.
Within moments, the entire group lay sprawled across the floor, gr**aning and clutching bruises they'd remember for weeks.
Above them, the second floor balcony overlooked the chaos.
"That woman's a knockout," one of Brendon's buddies said, his jaw practically on the floor. "Cool, confident--exactly my type."
Brendon's gaze drifted to the woman with the wavy hair, and the longer he stared, the stronger the sense of recognition grew.
There was something in her face--something uncanny--that made him wonder if he was looking at Christina, his ex-wife.
After spending the afternoon at the hospital with Yolanda, Brendon had agreed to hit the bar on her suggestion. Blowing off steam sounded harmless--until now.
"Hold on a second," Yolanda murmured, squinting at the woman downstairs. "Isn't that Christina?"
"Wait, you're telling me that knockout is actually Christina? Get out of here. That can't be the same dull housewife who barely spoke."
Curiosity sparked in the group as they leaned in, squinting for confirmation. Recognition settled in fast--it really was Brendon's ex-wife, and the shock hit them like a sl*p.
Katie Dawson, Brendon's younger sister, didn't hide her disdain. "Look at her--dressed like she's auditioning for attention. I guess getting dumped made her desperate. Bet she's prowling for a s**ar daddy."
The group laughed, quick to follow her lead.
"Typical," someone sneered. "Women like that only know how to latch onto a man."
"Brendon dodged a bullet. With that look? She's practically advertising herself."
"Take the man away and she's got nothing left. Just another gold-digger trying to act like she's someone."
Their voices scratched against Brendon's patience like nails on glass. He'd had enough. "Cut it out!" he snapped, his tone sharper than they'd heard all night.
Without waiting for a reply, Brendon gave them one final glare and stormed off in Christina's direction.
Chapter 3 Her Indifference
"Brendon!"
"Wait, Brendon!"
Katie and Yolanda both called out, their voices overlapping as they rushed to stop Brendon.
Before Brendon could move any farther, they stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop.
"Please tell me you're not about to run to that b**ch," Katie said, disbelief tightening her voice.
A flicker of anger crossed Brendon's face. "Watch your mouth, Katie. That attitude isn't just rude--it's disgraceful. You're carrying our family name. Try not to drag it through the mud."
Yolanda gently placed a hand on Katie's shoulder, her tone sweet and measured.
"Brendon, please don't be so harsh on Katie. She's still young and doesn't know better. If you still care about Christina, just be honest with me. I won't make things difficult for you. I'll go quietly."
Yolanda's eyes were red with tears as she made a move to turn away, her face full of hurt.
Seeing her like this made Brendon's heart twist. "Yolanda, no--don't go," he said quickly, stepping forward and grabbing her hand. "You're misunderstanding. There's nothing left between Christina and me."
"Then be straight with me. Is there still a part of you that loves her? Because… If there is, I can handle it. I won't hold it against you." Yolanda's voice was small and trembling as she met his eyes.
Brendon couldn't ignore the way her face twisted with hurt and hastily said, "You're overthinking it. Whatever Christina does now has nothing to do with me anymore."
Yolanda reached for his hand, her voice gentle but firm as she said, "Perhaps Christina has a reason to dress like that. Maybe she's struggling to fend for herself. We should help her."
Brendon was impressed by Yolanda's apparent kindness.
"You've always had a golden heart, Yolanda. But don't fret over Christina. She's not struggling the way you think. I gave her enough to live comfortably, and if she chooses to be a gold-digger and discards her self-respect, that's on her."
Yolanda seemed like she wanted to say more, but suddenly lost her footing, her body leaning back as her balance faltered.
Brendon moved fast, catching her before she hit the floor. "Yolanda!" His voice cracked with pani
"I... I'm fine. It's just too noisy here. I feel a bit dizzy. Let's go back to the private room." Yolanda's voice came out faintly as she leaned against him.
Holding her steady, Brendon frowned. "You should've stayed in the hospital and rested a few more days. You shouldn't have insisted on leaving."
Turning toward Katie, he instructed, "Katie, take her back to the private room. I'm going to the restroom and I'll be back in a minute."
Suspicion danced in Katie's eyes like a match to dry paper. "You're not seriously planning to sneak off and meet Christina, are you?"
Before Brendon could respond, Yolanda gently placed her hand on Katie's arm.
"It's alright. If Brendon wants to speak to Christina, let him. She's not just some stranger--she was part of his life once. Pretending she doesn't exist won't make her disappear. And if her inappropriate attire tonight stirs up gossip, it won't just fall on Brendon--it could drag down the Dawson name too."
"You're always so thoughtful, Yolanda, even considerate of that bit--" Katie stopped herself just when she caught Brendon's cold stare. She froze, swallowing her next words.
A beat later, Katie's tone shifted. "Brendon, you see, Yolanda's still not in the clear. If something happens while you're out here wasting time, that's on you!"
With an exasperated sigh, Katie latched onto Yolanda's hand. "Come on, Yolanda. We're leaving."
...
Downstairs, Christina exited the restroom. She gave her hair a casual toss, a small gesture that turned every head in the b*r.
Men watched her openly, eyes trailing her c**ves with a hunger that didn't even try to hide itself.
From a short distance away, Brendon stood rigid. His jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold, those men's stares igniting something bitter inside him.
They weren't just looking--they were un**essing her with their eyes. And he hated it.
"Christina Jones!" Brendon called out, voice low but taut with irritation.
Christina's head turned slowly, her gaze meeting his with a cool detachment. She gave him a slow, deliberate once-over before answering, "What do you want?"
Her tone was casual. Distant. Like he was just another stranger in the crowd.
That chill in her voice struck a nerve. It rattled something in Brendon he wasn't ready to name.
Without thinking, Brendon marched over and seized her wrist. "You're coming with me."
Chapter 4 At Least I'm Not Delusional
With a swift j**k, Christina yanked her wrist free from Brendon's grasp, eyes narrowed and voice sharp. "Try that again, and you'll regret ever laying a finger on me."
Instead of backing down, Brendon found his irritation boiling over. He couldn't explain it, but it felt like control--something he'd always taken for granted--was slipping through his fingers.
"This place doesn't suit you!" he snapped, voice cold. "No need to play dress-up just to make me look your way."
That made Christina laugh--sharp, humorless, and laced with contempt.
"Wow. You think this is about you? Don't delude yourself. We're finished. Whatever you think you still have a say in, you don't."
"Is that really what you want?" Brendon asked, his stare hard and searching. "To erase everything just like that?"
"Don't you want the same?" Christina retorted flatly. "Don't forget, we've already divorced."
Brendon's hand twitched, and before he could stop himself, he reached for her again. But her reflexes were faster. With a crisp sl*p, she knocked his hand away.
"Sh*t!" Brendon recoiled, holding his wrist, fury flashing in his eyes. "Are you insane?"
"If I am, at least I'm not delusional," Christina said casually, her gaze drifting down to his g**in and back up with a derisive smirk.
"Though you might want to get yourself checked for any functional problems."
Rage twisted across his face. "You've got a real mouth on you!"
"Appreciate the compliment," Christina replied with a shrug, completely unfazed.
Brendon's anger flared even hotter. "I came here to warn you because I didn't want to see you crash and burn. But if this is what you want, go ahead. Make your mess. I'm done trying."
Without saying another word, Brendon spun on his heel and stormed off, his frustration echoing in each step.
Christina's transformation hadn't gone unnoticed. Still, in his mind, it was nothing more than a flashy attempt to draw his attention.
Across the room, more than a few men couldn't stop staring, their eyes tracking Christina like prey.
She met their gazes with a look so sharp that it could cut glass, and whatever boldness they carried dissolved on the spot.
Every spine stiffened. Whatever fantasy they'd been brewing got snuffed out before it even formed.
No one in that b*r forgot what had happened earlier. Those foolish enough to touch her were left broken--one of them, quite literally, had his manhood destroyed. Nobody dared try again. Not after witnessing that brutal reminder.
...
Elsewhere, inside a private, soundproof room tucked away from the crowd, two men silently observed the commotion.
Dylan Scott leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as the striking Christina strode away from the scene, her presence drawing focus like gravity.
Something about her brought back a name he hadn't spoken aloud in years--Rose.
The masked woman who had nearly shattered his pride at that shooting match four years ago. He could still picture the glint of her eyes behind the mask.
"She's got bite," Ralphy Graham, Dylan's friend, commented, his gaze flicking from the bar to Dylan. "If Brendon picked a fight with her, he'd be eating dirt."
The quiet authority in Dylan's posture was undeniable. He didn't need to speak to make his presence felt--his energy did the work for him.
Ralphy caught the flicker of interest in his friend's eyes and said, "Don't tell me she's cracked that cold wall of yours. You thinking of pursuing her?"
A shift in Dylan's expression sobered the air. "Finding any leads on King is all I care about," he said evenly.
A crease formed on Ralphy's brow. "Still nothing?"
Dylan's features were drawn tight. "Not a trace."
"It's like King disappeared off the face of the earth," Ralphy said, a note of frustration slipping into his voice. "But King is the only one who can treat your sister. That hasn't changed."
At those words, Dylan's grip tightened around his glass. "Exactly. That's why I'll keep looking--no matter how long it takes." Without pause, he downed the entire drink.
A shrill ring sliced through the room, breaking the tension.
Without missing a beat, Ralphy reached for his phone and answered, looking composed at first. But within seconds, that calm shattered.
His eyes lit up with sudden, electric excitement, and his posture shot upright.
Dylan raised an eyebrow, voice steady. "What could possibly rattle you like that?"
The call ended with a sharp tap. Ralphy turned to him, breathless with disbelief. "It's about King. The sh**ting competition!"
Confusion flickered across Dylan's face. "What are you talking about?" He hadn't expected King's name to be tied to a sh**ting competition.
Ralphy explained, nearly bursting, "King just released a statement. Next week's champion of the shooting competition gets an opportunity for treatment--no expiry, just has to follow King's terms."
Ralphy almost bounced in his seat. The competition he hosted had just become the hottest event of the year because of King's announcement.
"No sh*t! Seriously?" Dylan leaned forward, his voice dropping, but the edge in it sharp. "Say it again."
With unwavering certainty, Ralphy said, "Whoever wins the sh**ting competition earns a treatment session from King. And Dylan, you've been on top of the shooting competition for three years straight under the alias of Dillan. If anyone's walking away with that prize, it's going to be you!"
Chapter 5 Beat Him Once Again
Dylan didn't wait for Ralphy to say another word. He turned sharply and walked away without hesitation.
That sudden exit made Ralphy blink. "Where are you headed?" he called out, still riding the high of the news.
"I'm heading back to train. If I want that win, I can't leave anything to chance," Dylan replied, his voice cold, eyes set like flint on the future.
Finally, there was hope--his sister might get the treatment she needed. So long as that phantom from his past--Rose--didn't show up, victory was within reach.
Still, he couldn't afford to gamble on luck. He'd push harder, train longer. Failure wasn't an option.
Elsewhere, Brendon stood frozen with his phone in hand, staring at the notification of King's statement.
"It's real! King's giving out treatment! You're going to be okay!" Katie gasped from across the room and rushed forward, pulling Yolanda into a tight hug.
Uncertainty clouded Yolanda's face. "But… Isn't Dillan still undefeated? I heard no one's even come close to beating him in years."
Katie waved the concern off with a confident smile. "It doesn't matter who wins. We'll make an offer they can't refuse. There's no way anyone will refuse money."
"That's right. Yolanda, you have my word--I'll do everything in my power to get King to treat you," Brendon said, his voice steady with conviction.
"No matter what it takes, I'll find a way to ease your pain and make this illness less of a burden."
Tears welled up in Yolanda's eyes as she clutched his sleeve. "You're always doing so much for me. I don't even know how to thank you."
Brendon held her close, one hand soothing her hair. "You don't have to. I'm not doing this for thanks--I'm doing it for you."
Moved beyond words, Yolanda buried her face against his ch*st. "Brendon, thank you."
And so, the long-awaited day of the shooting competition finally arrived.
By morning, the sh**ting grounds were packed tighter than ever.
The rare luxury car was a flashy incentive, but it was King's offer of treatment--more precious than gold or any fancy car--that pulled the crowd in like gravity.
Barely had the opening round finished before contestants began dropping like flies.
As each round grew more demanding, the numbers thinned fast, only the most skilled sh**ters hanging on.
Brendon held his own long enough to break into the top ten, but his run ended when he pushed too hard for the top five. The disappointment etched itself clearly across his face.
"It's alright, Brendon. We've got more than enough money to work with," Katie said, fully prepared to use their wealth to secure the championship by any means necessary.
Yolanda offered a softer response, her voice warm and gentle. "You did everything you could, Brendon. Making it that far was amazing. Please don't be so hard on yourself."
One look at Yolanda's calm, supportive smile eased some of the tension knotted in Brendon's ch*st.
Even so, her grace only deepened the self-reproach for not being skilled enough to win the prize of King's treatment twisting inside him. He hated coming up short.
Now, only two names remained on the board. One man. One woman.
Everyone recognized Dillan--the reigning champ with a perfect track record. The woman standing across from him, Chrissy, was a mystery to most.
The final challenge came with a twist--contestants had to sh**t while blindfolded.
Dylan had already pieced it together. Chrissy wasn't some unknown competitor. She was Rose--the same Rose who had disappeared without a trace three years ago.
She hadn't just returned. She had reinvented herself under a brand-new alias.
Standing across from the very woman who had once crushed him in the past, Dylan felt the weight of that memory press down hard.
Even so, three years of relentless training had reshaped him. This time, he believed he could take her down.
With steady steps, Dylan walked onto the stage. A black mask concealed his face, but the resolve in his stance said everything.
The staff tied the blindfold tightly, and the final showdown began.
First sh*t--direct hit. Right through the center.
Second sh*t--another bullseye.
Then came the third.
All around him, the crowd leaned in, the arena holding its breath like one giant lung.
When that final sh*t struck dead center, the silence shattered into wild cheers. The audience leapt from their seats, the roar deafening.
"Dillan is amazing! If I fl**t with him and win him over, I bet I can talk him into giving up that prize once he wins!" Katie exclaimed from the front row, clapping her hands together and beaming.
"You're smitten with him, aren't you?" Yolanda tilted her head, an amused sparkle in her eyes.
Flushing, Katie quickly waved it off. "Absolutely not! I'm just trying to secure King's treatment for you, that's all."
Yolanda chuckled. "You've always looked out for me, Katie. I'm so lucky to have you."
Brendon crossed his arms. "This match is Dillan's to take. No question."
Brendon hadn't taken Chrissy seriously since she walked in. In his mind, women just didn't belong in the upper tier of this sport.
The name Rose still lingered in his memory--her win years ago felt more like a lucky strike than a real triumph. If she had the skill, she wouldn't have vanished three years ago.
Now blindfolded and standing center stage, Chrissy--who was actually Christina--made no move to sh**t.
Instead, she turned her body slowly, letting the eyes of the crowd follow her every motion.
Whispers broke out almost immediately. "Is she giving up?"
"Maybe this is her way of backing out without saying it outright."
"I said it from the start--women just can't hold their own in a match like this."
But as the noise grew louder, Christina raised her w**pon behind her back and, without adjusting her stance, pulled the trigger. The sh*t rang out sharp and clean.
"Direct hit!" the announcer shouted.
Gasps rippled through the audience. She had landed a bullseye--and under conditions that were harder than earlier rounds.
"How is that possible?"
"No way. That was pure luck!"
While the crowd clung to doubt, Dylan's confidence began to slip. It was happening again. He was about to lose to Rose.
From her second sh*t to her last, Christina never missed. Each movement was fluid, each sh*t dead-on.
She moved like she had eyes in the back of her head. Sh*t after sh*t, bullseye after bullseye.
The difficulty of Chrissy's round surpassed Dylan's, leaving no room for dispute--Chrissy had won. Cheers erupted, c*rses followed, and stunned silence filled the gaps in between.
Those who bet everything on Dillan were left stunned and broke. Meanwhile, Davina couldn't stop grinning.
She had bet on Chrissy from the start--and now she was walking away with more money than she knew what to do with.
Dylan remained rooted to the spot, his disbelief anchoring him in place as Christina strode straight toward him.
"You will peel off the mask yourself, or should I do it for you?" Christina said casually, determined to see his face as per the privilege that came with the winner.
The voice modulator built into her mask disguised her tone, keeping the crowd guessing.
But Dylan didn't need a voice to recognize her--he knew. This was Rose. No doubt. With no hesitation, he reached up and pulled off his mask.
Gasps swept through the arena as his face came into full view.
Revealed beneath the mask was none other than Dylan Scott, head of the city's most powerful dynasty and the silent force behind the very competition they were watching.
Brendon exhaled in quiet relief. Had Dylan come out on top, not even the Dawson name would've held any weight to sway him into giving up the prize of King's treatment.
Compared to Dylan's influence, the Dawson family would've been brushed aside like a rumor.
Masked and silent, Christina moved past Brendon and his crew, her steps aimed at Davina--until Katie suddenly stepped in her way.
"Hold it right there!" Katie planted herself in front of Christina, eyes narrowed with smug defiance. "That reward--sell it to us. Just say how much you want."
"Nah, not for sale," Christina said, her voice dry and unmoved. Helping Yolanda had never been on her agenda. Not now. Not ever.
"You seriously think refusing us is smart?" Katie snapped. "Do you know what happens to people who go against the Dawson family?"
"I don't," Christina said with a shrug. "And I don't care. I said it's not for sale."
"You arrogant--" Katie's words failed her as rage took over. In one furious motion, she lunged forward and yanked the mask off Christina's face...
......
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&5&
Yurtdışındaki eğitimini tamamlayıp ülkesine döndüğünde, tek bir kararı vardı: Boşanmak. Kocasını, gerçekten sevdiği kadınla baş başa bırakmaya karar verdi. Boşanmanın ardından tüm enerjisini kariyerine verdi ve sayısız hayranın ilgi odağı oldu. Kimsenin beklemediği şey ise, o kararsız ve nankör eski kocasının, sevgilisini terk edip kapısına kadar gelerek barışma yalvarmasıydı.
=====
Saatime bir kez daha baktım ve derin bir iç çektim. Uçaktan ineli bir buçuk saat olmuştu ve saati kaç kez kontrol ettiğimi saymayı bırakmıştım. Kocam Cem Demir ortalarda yoktu.
Beni havaalanından alması gerekiyordu. Ama şu an muhtemelen sevgilisiyle birlikteydi.
Bu düşünceyle başımı iki yana salladım, dudaklarıma acı bir gülümseme yerleşti. Ayağa kalktım, valizimi sürükleyerek havaalanından çıktım.
Cem ile üç yıl önce evlenmiştim. Düğünden kısa bir süre sonra, hayalini kurduğum yurtdışındaki üniversiteden kabul aldım.
Programlarından birine kabul edilmiştim, bu yüzden okumak için ülkeyi terk ettim. Üç yıl boyunca birbirimizi hiç görmedik. Ben uzaktayken, o tüm zamanını gerçekten sevdiği kadınla geçiriyordu.
Şimdi eğitimimi bitirdim ve geri döndüm. Nominal evliliğimizi bitirmek istiyordum. Asla gerçekleşmeyecek hayallerin peşinden gitmeyi bırakmam gerektiğine karar verdim.
Eve giderken takside Cem'e bir mesaj gönderdim, "Konuşmamız lazım."
Kısa süre sonra, boş evimizin içinde duruyordum. Valizimi bir kenara bıraktım, oturma odasına geçtim. Kanepeye oturdum ve beklemeye başladım.
Ev, yıllardır kimsenin yaşamamış olduğu hissini veriyordu; havası bile soğuk ve ıssızdı. Düğün fotoğrafımız hala duvarda asılıydı. Hem kırıcı hem de üzücüydü.
Telefonuma baktım. Cem'den hala bir mesaj yoktu. Bu gece eve gelmeyeceğini düşündüm.
Uzun bir süre öylece oturup düşüncelerime gömüldüm. Derken dışarıda bir arabanın durduğunu duydum. Yerimden fırladım; kalbim göğsümde deli gibi atmaya başladı.
Duygusuz kocamdan hala bir şeyler mi bekliyordum? Belki. Belki de hayır.
Ama son anda dişlerimi sıktım, titreyen ellerimi birbirine kenetledim. Kendime hatırlattım, 'Bunu bitirmek için buradayım.'
Kapı tokmağı döndü ve kapı açıldı. Cem ışıkları açtı ve koridora uzun bir gölge düştü. İçeri girdi. Kömür karası bir takım elbise ve kusursuz beyaz bir gömlek giymişti.
Yorgun görünüyordu, ama bu keskin yüz hatlarını ve belirgin elmacık kemiklerini gizlemiyordu. Her şey hala aynıydı. Birkaç adım öteden bile hissedebileceğim o buz gibi aurasını hala yayıyordu.
Yaklaştıkça kalbim hızlanıyor, nefesim kısa kısa kesiliyordu. Ne kadar yakışıklı olduğunu unuttuğuma inanamıyordum.
Ölümlü dünyaya ait olmayan bir varlık gibiydi; insanı sorgusuz sualsiz teslim olmaya zorlayan bir çekiciliği vardı.
Zaman onu daha olgun, bakışlarıyla dikkatleri üzerine çeken bir adama dönüştürmüştü. Yanaklarımın kızardığını hissedince bakışlarımı başka tarafa çevirdim.
Soğuk bir ifadeyle kanepeye yürüdü ve oturdu. Ben de karşısındaki koltuğa geçtim.
Keskin ve sert bir bakış üzerime saplandı. İçgüdüsel olarak başımı eğmek istedim ama çenemi yukarı kaldırıp gözlerinin içine bakmaya zorladım kendimi.
Onun derin, karanlık bakışlarında kendi yansımamı gördüm.
"Geri döndün." Her zamanki gibi ifadesiz ve soğuk bir tonla konuşmuştu. Onu bu kadar iyi tanımasaydım, bu ses beni çileden çıkarabilirdi.
"Evet," dedim, sesimi onunki kadar kayıtsız tutmaya çalışarak.
"Avukatım sana bir e-posta gönderdi." Konuşurken kravatını gevşetti. Kaslı gö**ü gömleğinden dışarı çıkıyordu.
"Tamam, kontrol edeyim." Gerginlikle yutkundum, yüz ifademi olabildiğince nötr tutmaya çalıştım.
Telefonumu çıkarıp e-postayı açtım. Gelen kutusunun en üstünde iki kelime gözlerime çarptı: Boşanma anlaşması.
Beklediğim bir şeydi ama yine de göğsüme bir bı**k saplanmış gibi hissettim. Acı keskin ve ani geldi.
Minnettar olduğum tek şey, Cem'in neredeyse büyü gibi olan cazibesinden beni bir anlığına da olsa koparmasıydı.
"Pekala. İmzalayacağım." Telefonumu kenara koydum ve yakında eski kocam olacak adama baktım. Yakında artık bana ait olmayacaktı.
Bayan Demir rolünü oynamak güzel bir deneyimdi. Ama bunun artık sona ermesi gerekiyordu. Bu adamı, Bay Demir'i, kendi dünyamdan çıkarmalıydım.
"Anlaşmayı okumak istemiyor musun?" diye sordu.
"Gerek yok. Eminim bay Demir eski eşini zor durumda bırakacak biri değildir." Zoraki bir gülümseme takındım.
Eski eş. Yakında onun eski eşi olacaktım. Ama bu kadar keskin, bu kadar soğuk bir kelimeyi kabullenmeye gerçekten hazır olup olmadığımdan emin değildim.
"Bu Bahçe Sokağı'ndaki evi alacaksın. Ve şehir merkezindeki daireyi..."
"Ne zaman?" Cem'i böldüm.
"Ne?" Kaşlarını çattı ve sorgulayıcı gözlerle bana baktı.
"Belgeleri ne zaman imzalıyoruz?" diye yumuşak bir sesle sordum.
"Avukatımla bir randevu ayarlayacağım," dedi Cem, hafifçe çenesini eğerek.
"Peki. Aramanı bekleyeceğim."
Bir anlık sessizliğin ardından tekrar bana baktı.
"Rüya'nın durumu iyi değil. Sadece onun son isteğini gerçekleştirmek istiyorum," diye açıkladı.
Boğazımdaki düğümü yutarak yumruklarımı sıktım. Son isteğini gerçekleştirmek mi? Ne yüce bir adam.
Ama bunu benim üzerimden mi yapmak zorundaydı? Pekala, bu konuda incinmeye hakkım olmadığını düşündüm. Sonuçta ben sadece sahte Bayan Demir'dim. Geçici biri.
"Anlıyorum." Sadece başımı salladım. Oysa içimde, yüzüne karşı haykırmak istediğim onca söz kaynayıp duruyordu.
"Başka bir şeye ihtiyacın olursa, avukatıma anlaşmaya eklemesini söylerim."
"Gerek yok. İçindekiler yeterli." Bir kez daha zayıf, tutunamayan bir gülümseme kondurdum yüzüme.
"Yarın Rüya'yı görmeye gel," dedi Cem ve ayağa kalkarak önümde volta atmaya başladı.
Ses tonu itiraza yer bırakmıyordu. Bu bir rica değildi; doğrudan verilmiş bir emirdi. Beni ne sanıyordu? Ve neden o kadınla görüşmem gerekiyordu? Acımın üzerine tuz mu basmak istiyordu?
"Bunu neden yapayım?" diye sordum, gülümsememi geri çekip ona bakarak.
"Boşanmamız yüzünden kendini suçlu hissetmesini istemiyorum. Ona başka birine aşık olduğunu söyle. Evliliğimizi bitirme kararımızın onunla hiçbir ilgisi olmadığını bilsin." Tam önümde durdu, gözlerimin içine baktı.
"Pekala."
Aslında reddetmek istiyordum. Ama nedense ona hayır demek bana her zaman zor gelmişti. Gözlerimin içine bakıp bir şey istemesi yetiyordu; ben de direnmeden teslim oluyordum.
"Teşekkürler. Yarın seni alırım."
"Zahmet etme. Sadece adresi mesaj at, ben orada olurum."
Cem bana son bir kez baktı, ardından arkasını dönüp gitti.
Uzaklaşan sırtını izlerken gözlerim doldu. Üç yıl boyunca evliliğimizi gizli tutmuştuk. Ailemiz ve yakın dostlarımız dışında kimse bilmiyordu.
Birkaç ay önce, Cem ve Rüya'nın nişanlandığına dair haberler medyaya düştü. Üstelik Rüya'nın gelinlik denerken çekilmiş fotoğrafları da her yerdeydi. Ne mükemmel bir çift!
O fotoğraflara uzun geceler boyunca dalıp gittim ve her seferinde gözlerim otomatik olarak Cem'e kaydı. O zamanlar, umudumu kaybetmemem gerektiğini düşünürdüm.
Onunla evli kaldığım sürece, bir gün bana aşık olabileceğine ve o zaman ilişkimizin gerçek olacağına inanıyordum. Onu seviyordum ve bu her şey için yeterliydi.
Çok daha sonra fark ettim ki, onun beni yalnızca geçici olarak değil, gerçekten ve karşılık vererek sevmesine de ihtiyacım varmış. Onun beni, benim onu sevdiğim kadar çok sevmesini istedim.
Son üç yılı onu bekleyerek geçirdim. Aramızdaki mesafeye rağmen ona sevgimi ve ilgimi göstermek için elimden gelenin en iyisini yapmaya çalıştım ama karşılık olarak hiçbir şey alamadım.
Bir gün uyandım ve gerçeğin yüzüme çarpmasına izin verdim.
O gün, yapışkan, muhtaç Sibel acı dolu bir ölümle yok oldu. Onun küllerinden ise bambaşka biri doğdu; öyle kalın bir zırhla kuşanmış bir Sibel ki, hiçbir kılıç, hiçbir mızrak onu delemezdi.
Valizlerimle birlikte odama çıktım ve kıyafetlerimi yerleştirdim. Sonra duş alıp geceliğimi giydim. Oda, ben ayrıldığım günden beri kimse dokunmamış gibi görünüyordu.
Ne bir eşya yerinden oynamıştı ne de çarşaflarda en ufak bir kırışıklık vardı. Belli ki Cem bu odayı son üç yıldır hiç kullanmamıştı. Muhtemelen sevgilisi Rüya'yla başka bir yerde yaşıyordu.
Bu düşünce göğsümde ağır bir baskı yarattı. Biraz nefes almak için balkona çıktım.
Ama beklemediğim bir şey gördüm: Cem'in arabası hala bahçedeydi. Neden gitmemişti? Sevgilisi Rüya'nın yanına koşması gerekmiyor muydu?
Arabaya dalgın dalgın bakarken telefonum çaldı. En yakın arkadaşım Tülin arıyordu. Aramayı açtım.
"Merhaba, Tülin!"
"Kızım! Hoş geldin!"
"Teşekkür ederim."
"Hala iş seyahatindeyim. Bugün havaalanına seni almaya gelemediğim için çok üzgünüm."
"Sorun değil. İş her zaman önce gelir."
"Bu dönüş kalıcı mı, yoksa ilk fırsatta yine çekip gidecek misin?"
"Sanırım şimdilik buradayım."
"Harika! O zaman gel bizim televizyon kanalında çalış!" dedi heyecanla.
"Medya mezunusun, sesin harika, bir de çok güzelsin. Bu iş için birebirsin. İnsanlar seni sevecek. Ortama hemen uyum sağlarsın. Ne dersin?"
"Tamam."
"Cem ile konuştun mu?" Tülin'in sesi bir anda kısıldı; sanki nabzımı yokluyordu.
"Evet." Bir kez daha bahçedeki arabaya baktım.
"O kadınla ilgili konuştu mu?"
"Evet."
"Ne utanmaz bir herif! Sana ondan bahsetmeye nasıl cesaret edebilir?"
"Tamam, Tülin. Yarın Rüya'yı görmemi istedi ve ben de kabul ettim."
"Ne? Kocanı çalan o kadınla tanışmayı kabul mü ettin? Sen aklını mı kaçırdın, Sibel? O kadın Cem'i ba**an çı**rdı ve boşanması için teşvik etti. Neden enerjisini boşa harcıyor anlamıyorum. Demir ailesi, üç yıl önce Cem için onu onaylamamıştı. Şimdi ne değişti de fikirlerini değiştirdiklerini sanıyor?" Tülin hattın diğer ucundan adeta kükreyerek konuşuyordu.
"Her şeyi bir kenara koydum. Bu noktada, geçmişi geride bırakmak istiyorum." Hafifçe gülümsedim.
"Geçmiş mi? Sibel, sen onu hala seviyorsun, değil mi?"
Buna cevap vermedim. Tabii ki onu hala seviyordum. Onu sevmekten asla vazgeçmemiştim.
"Sibel!" Tülin'in bağırışı beni kendime getirdi.
"Yorgunum, Tülin. Yarın seni ararım, tamam mı? Görüşürüz."
Tülin'in itiraz etmesine fırsat vermeden telefonu kapattım ve derin bir nefes aldım. Cem'in arabası hala oradaydı ve yakın zamanda ayrılmayı planlıyor gibi görünmüyordu. Ama ne önemi vardı ki?
Birden yorgunluk üzerime çöktü. Odaya geri döndüm ve yatağa uzandım. Sırtüstü yattım, tavana baktım ve uykuya dalmayı bekledim. Birkaç dakika sonra birinin kapıyı çaldığını duydum.
Uykumdan silkinerek kalktım ve kapıyı açtım. Dışardaki Cem'di.
Bölüm 2 Sibel'in bakış açısı: Rahatsızlık Hissi
"Başka bir şey mi var?" diye sordum, şaşkınlığımı gizleyemeden.
"Yarın Rüya'ya gitmek için erken kalkmamız gerekiyor," diye soğuk bir sesle karşılık verdi Cem.
"Tamam."
Kafam karışmıştı. Geri dönmesinin tek sebebi bunu özellikle vurgulamak mıydı?
"Bu gece burada kalacağım," diye ekledi.
Bu sözleri duyduğum anda irkildim, sanki bir anda ayılmıştım. Aslında ona burada kalmasının uygun olup olmadığını sormak istedim ama kelimeler boğazımda düğümlendi; yutkundum ve sustum.
"Jet lag yüzünden uyuyakalmandan endişeleniyorum," dedi ağırbaşlı bir tonla. Yüzümdeki şaşkınlığı fark etmiş olmalıydı.
"Ah. Tamam. En iyisi ben misafir odasını hazırlayayım."
Konuşmayı bitirir bitirmez arkamı döndüm, valizime doğru yürüdüm. Onu alıp odadan çıkmaya hazırlanıyordum ki...
Cem önüme geçti ve yolumu kesti.
"Neden benden kaçıyorsun?"
Soğuk bakışlarının içine bakarak karşılık verdim, "Sadece senin istediğini yapıyorum. Üç yıl önce, senden uzak durmamı istememiş miydin?"
Bu sözler ağzımdan çıkar çıkmaz bana doğru yürümeye başladı. Gözlerinde belli belirsiz bir öfke parıltısı vardı.
"Burada kalacaksın."
Elim gevşedi, valizim yere düştü. Sonra bana daha da yaklaştı ve kalbim daha hızlı atmaya başladı...
Ama beni şaşırtan şey, sadece yanımdan geçip kanepede oturması oldu. Ardından gömleğinin düğmelerini açtı ve rahat bir pozisyon aldı.
"Kanepede uyuyacağım," dedi kayıtsız bir sesle.
Hayal gücümden dolayı kendime kızmadan edemedim. Aklımdan uygunsuz bir düşünce geçmişti! Başka bir şey söylemeden yere düşen valizi aldım ve sessizce kenara koydum.
Sırtımı ona döndüm. Cem'in kıyafetlerini çıkardığını, dolabı açıp temiz giysiler aldığını duydum. Bir süre sonra nihayet banyoya girdi.
Evlendiğimizden beri üç yıl geçmişti. Hayallerimin erkeği, yasal kocam, şimdi sadece birkaç adım ötemdeydi.
Banyoya gitmiş olmasına rağmen kokusu hala havada asılıydı. O kadar güzel kokuyordu ki, içim kıpır kıpır oldu.
Yaklaşıp yatağın kenarına uzandım. Kıvrılıp yan yattım ve banyodan akan suyun sesini dinledim.
Ses nihayet durduğunda, gözlerimi hızla kapattım ve derin bir uykudaymış gibi rol yapmaya başladım. Nefes alışımı bile yavaşlattım, böylece uyuyor numarası yaptığımı anlamazdı.
Burada birçok misafir odası vardı. Neden benimle aynı odayı paylaşmakta ısrar ediyordu? Belki de üç yıldır birbirimizi görmediğimiz içindi. Yine de, bu adam giderek daha tahmin edilemez hale geliyordu.
Uzun bir süre geçtikten sonra, sessizlik her yanı sardı. Gizlice gözlerimi açıp Cem'e baktım. Kanepede sırtını bana dönmüş yatıyordu.
Ona bakarken, vücudum nihayet gevşedi. Bu gece hiçbir şey olmayacağını biliyordum. Yine de, derinlerde hayal kırıklığına uğramaktan kendimi alamadım.
******
Ertesi sabah uyandığımda Cem çoktan gitmişti. Telefonumdan saate baktım ve gözlerim şaşkınlıkla açıldı. Saat sabahın onuydu!
Yataktan fırlayıp olabildiğince hızlı bir şekilde hazırlandım. Odadan çıktığımda, Cem'in oturma odasındaki kanepede kitap okuduğunu gördüm.
"Neden beni uyandırmadın?!" diye panikle sesimi yükselterek sordum.
"Çalıştım. Hatta seni uyandırmak için neredeyse üzerine soğuk su dökecektim." Konuşurken gözlerini kitaptan ayırmadı bile. Tonunda da hiçbir duygu yoktu.
"Üzgünüm. Dün biraz yorgundum. Hadi gidelim," dedim mahcup bir şekilde gözlerimi yere indirerek. Anlaşılan dün gece çok derin uyumuştum.
"Önce bir şeyler ye."
"Ne? Sonra Rüya-"
"Acele etmeye gerek yok. Öğle yemeğinde görüşeceğiz."
Sözleri beni şaşırttı. Erken kalkmam gerektiğini söylememiş miydi? Yanlış mı duymuştum? Belki de beni kandırmak için söylemişti.
Her neyse, bana söylediğini yaptım. Hafif bir kahvaltı ettim ve sonrasında onu çıkmaya zorladım. Rüya'yı görmek için acele ettiğimden değil, sadece bir an önce bu işin bitmesini istediğimden.
Yol boyunca sessizdim. Cem de tek kelime etmedi. Üç yıldır evliydik. Ama nedense, birbirimize yabancı gibiydik. Daha da kötüsü, şu an kocama nişanlısına giderken eşlik ediyor olmamdı.
Araba, şehrin en lüks restoranı olan Rainbow Dream adlı Michelin üç yıldızlı restoranda durdu.
Doğrusunu söylemek gerekirse, buraya daha önce hiç gelmemiştim. Bayan Demir olduktan sonra bile Cem beni böyle bir yere hiç getirmemişti.
Restorana adımımızı atar atmaz bir garson yanımıza gelip bizi karşıladı. "Bay Demir, Bayan Yeşil sizi üst katta bekliyor." Garsonun hitabından, Cem'in buranın müdavimi olduğu belliydi.
Tek kelime etmeden Cem'in arkasından asansöre bindim.
"Rüya'yı gördüğünde gülümse ve surat asma," dedi Cem soğuk bir tonla.
Zorla bir gülümseme takınıp onu temin ettim, "Öyle yapacağım."
"Sibel, uzun zaman oldu!" Özel odaya girer girmez Rüya bizi geniş bir gülümsemeyle karşıladı. Yıllar geçmesine rağmen neredeyse hiç değişmemişti.
Genç yüzünü korumak için muazzam miktarda para harcadığı kesindi. Yüzü filmlerdeki gibiydi; zamanın dokunamadığı, işlenmiş bir güzellik… Uzun süre hasta olan biri gibi görünmüyordu.
"Gerçekten uzun zaman oldu," diye nazik bir gülümsemeyle karşılık verdim.
"Jet lag'i atlatabildin mi? Bu sabah kalkmakta zorlanırsın diye saati öğlene ayarladım."
"Evet, teşekkür ederim. Dün gece çok rahat uyudum. Sonuçta burası benim memleketim."
"Son üç yılda çok acı çektin. Hepsi benim suçum. Neyse ki Cem burada. Onun sayesinde şimdi çok daha iyiyim." Rüya konuşmayı bitirir bitirmez öksürmeye başladı.
Cem, sanki bunu bekliyormuş gibi hemen ona bir bardak su uzattı.
Rüya'yı gördüğü andan itibaren, Cem'in üzerindeki tüm buzlar erimiş gibiydi. Bir anda bambaşka birine dönüşmüştü. Ona karşı tavrı, bana olan tavrından çok farklıydı.
Bugünün ana yemeği biftekti. Cem, Rüya'nın tabağındaki bifteği dikkatlice kesti. Onu bu kadar nazik ve düşünceli görmek alışılmadık bir şeydi.
"Ben iyiyim. Endişelenme. Harika hissediyorum. Aslında, diplomamı yeni aldım." Bıçağı ve çatalı kullanarak biftekle mücadele ederken Rüya'ya gülümsedim.
"Üç yıldır Fransa'daydın. Bir sevgilin var mı? Bu sene Cannes Film Festivali zamanında balayımızı Fransa'da geçireceğiz."
Sevgili mi? Sadık bir Bayan Demir olarak, evliyken başka bir erkekle olmayı hiç düşünmemiştim. Nedense, Cem için hala içimde küçük bir umut vardı.
"Şey... evet, aslında. Orada bir adamla tanıştım. O bir sanatçı." Hemen ona gösterebileceğim bir adam düşündüm. Cem'in dediği gibi, Rüya'yı rahatlatmam gerekiyordu.
Göz ucuyla ona baktım. Bifteği kesiyordu. Bir an için duraksadı.
"Fotoğrafları var mı?" diye Rüya merakla sordu.
Bu merak beni hazırlıksız yakaladı. Bana yardım etmesi umuduyla Cem'e baktım. Ne yazık ki, o yüzüme bile bakmadı.
"Şey, henüz birlikte değiliz, bu yüzden fotoğrafını telefonuma kaydetmedim," diye açıkladım ve sonra bifteğimi kesmeye devam ettim.
"Facebook'u var mı? Belki orada fotoğraflarını paylaşıyordur. Onu görmek istiyorum," diye ısrar etti Rüya. Görünüşe göre, adamı kendi gözüyle görene kadar konuyu bırakmayı düşünmüyordu.
"Bir bakayım." Konuşurken, telefonumu çıkardım ve bir süre için hangi sınıf arkadaşımı peşime düşmüş gibi göstereceğimi düşündüm. Aklıma gelen ilk kişi Mert oldu.
Onunla iyi bir ilişkim vardı, bu yüzden planım işe yarayabilirdi. Facebook sayfasına girdim, ilk gözüme çarpan Eyfel Kulesi'nin önündeki fotoğrafı oldu. Uzun, dağınık saçları ve genç, yakışıklı bir yüzü vardı. Mert ve Cem birbirinin zıttıydı.
İlki sanatsal ve akışına bırakmış biriyken, ikincisi soğuk ve mesafeli biriydi. Ekranda Mert'in resmi olan telefonumu Rüya'ya uzattım.
Fotoğrafı görünce gözleri mutlulukla parladı. "Ah! Adeta sanatsal ve özgür ruhlu bir Parisli genç gibi. Senin adına çok mutlu oldum, Sibel. Sonuçta, Cem ve ben... Üzgünüm." Sonra fotoğrafı Cem'e gösterdi.
O ise sadece bir saniye göz attı. "Mükemmel bir çiftsiniz," dedi soğuk bir tonda.
Rüya nihayet telefonumu geri verdi. "Amerika'ya seni ziyarete gelecek mi?" diye heyecanla sordu.
"Hala Avrupa'da. Lyon'da bir sanat sergisi düzenliyor. Ancak kariyerine başlamak için önümüzdeki ay buraya gelecek," diye yalan söyledim.
Ağzımdan çıkan her şey tamamen uydurma olsa da, bunun bir önemi yoktu. Şu an önemli olan tek bir şey vardı: Rüya'yı mutlu etmek.
Üstelik, boşanma anlaşmasını imzaladıktan sonra onu bir daha görmeyecektim. Aksi halde, Mert'i buraya nasıl getireceğimi düşünmek zorunda kalacaktım.
"Ona aşık mısın?" Rüya, gözleri umutla parıldayarak sordu.
Şaşkınlıkla bir an duraksadım.
"Tabii ki," dedim, sakinliğimi korumaya çalışarak ve hiçbir ipucu vermemeye gayret ederek.
"Bu harika! Cem, galiba Sibel için endişelenmemize gerek kalmadı. Sibel'in mutluluğunu kutlayalım!" diyerek kadehini kaldırdı, heyecanla.
Cem de onunla birlikte kadehini kaldırdı.
"Sibel, bana söz ver, mutlu olacaksın," dedi Rüya, gözlerime bakarak. Ancak, ben her şeyin bir gösteriş olduğunu çok iyi biliyordum. Nazik maskesinin altında kötü niyetli bir kalp vardı.
"Tabii ki. Sen de," dedim kısaca.
Kadehlerimizdeki şa**bı, bir söz işareti olarak bir yudumda içtik.
Kadehimi indirirken ellerim titredi. Sadece bu değil, midem de bulanmaya başladı. Bu yemeğin bir an önce bitmesini diledim. Bu iki yüzlü kadını daha fazla görmek istemiyordum.
"İzninizle, lavaboya gitmem gerekiyor," diyerek bir bahane uydurdum ve kendimi dışarı attım. Midemdeki rahatsız edici histen kurtulmak için temiz hava almam gerekiyordu.
Birkaç dakika sonra masaya döndüğümde, Cem çoktan ayağa kalkmış, Rüya'ya kadife paltosunu giymesinde yardımcı oluyordu.
"Rüya kendini iyi hissetmiyor. Onu eve bırakacağım. Daha sonra-"
"Tamam. Ben kendim gidebilirim," diye sözünü kestim.
Ardından Cem'in Rüya'yı kollarında taşıyarak restorandan çıkmasını çaresizce izledim. Aniden, vücudumdaki tüm gergin kaslar gevşedi.
Bölüm 3 Cem'in bakış açısı: Beklenmedik Misafirler
Rüya'yı eve bıraktıktan sonra, bazı işleri halletmek için tekrar ofise döndüm.
Akşamüstü Sinan'dan bir mesaj aldım.
Mesajda, "Cem, bize katılacak mısın? Herkes burada." yazıyordu.
"Tamam, birazdan oradayım," diye cevapladım; ofisten çıkarken mesajı yazıyordum.
Sinan, Nane B**ı'nın sahibiydi. Burası şehrin en gözde mekanlarından biriydi ve o gece her zamankinden daha kalabalıktı.
İçeri girer girmez Sinan ve Deniz'i gördüm. Üçümüz de çocukluğumuzdan beri ayrılmazdık.
"Sibel'i gördün mü?" diye sordu Sinan, yanıma gelir gelmez.
"Evet," dedim ve barmenden bir kadeh vi**i istedim.
"Gerçekten boşanacak mısınız?" diye üsteledi, bana doğru eğilerek.
"Evet." Sabırsızca cevap verip bir si**ra yaktım.
"Nasıl yaparsın, adamım? Sibel, bizim canımız ciğerimiz. Bizimle birlikte büyüdü. Sen ve Rüya ona karşı gerçekten çok acımasız davrandınız."
Barmenin içkimi önüme koymasıyla havaya bir du**n üfledim. Sinan'a cevap vermemeye karar verdim ve vi**imi içtim. Ama söyledikleri doğruydu.
Gerçek şu ki, dün gece Sibel ile boşanma hakkında konuşurken gergindim. Oysa kendisi benden çok daha sakindi. Bu durum beni rahatsız mı etti yoksa etkiledi mi, anlayamadım.
Üç yıldır birbirimizi görmemiştik. Artık o eski naif kız değildi. Çok büyümüştü.
Onu tekrar o soğukkanlı haliyle görmek beni biraz üzdü.
"Kabul etti mi?" diye sordu Deniz merakla.
"Evet, etti."
Bu sırada, arkadaşlarımla buluşma kararımdan çoktan pişman olmuştum. Sadece onlarla bir içki içmek istemiştim, ama burada bana sorularla baskı yapıyorlardı.
"Gerçekten Rüya ile mi evleneceksin?"
"Evet."
"Ciddi misin? Seni kurtardı diye gerçekten mutluluğunu feda mı edeceksin?" Cevabım karşısında Deniz duygularına hakim olamadı. Kazara şa**bını üzerime döktü.
"La**t olsun!" diye kızgınlıkla küfrettim.
"Ah, dostum. Çok özür dilerim," diye hemen özür diledi.
Orada bu halde görünmek istemediğim için izin istedim ve kıyafetlerimi değiştirmek için eve geçmeye karar verdim.
Bardan ayrıldım ve bir taksi çağırdım. Başta eve gitmeyi planlamıştım, ama arabaya biner binmez düşüncelere daldım.
Sonra, sürücüden beni Bahçe Sokağı'na götürmesini istedim.
Vardığımda, ev parlak bir şekilde aydınlatılmıştı ve açık pencerelerden kahkaha sesleri geliyordu. Garajda tanıdık bir Mercedes park edilmişti.
Annem ve büyükannem ziyarete gelmişti.
Kapıya hızlıca yöneldim, fakat şifreyi girmeye fırsat bulamadan biri içeriden kapıyı açmıştı.
"Neredeydin? Neden aramalarıma cevap vermedin?" Annem hemen yanımda belirdi ve beni azarladı.
"Bir toplantıdaydım, anne."
"Ve neden al**l kokuyorsun? İçtin mi? Aman Allah'ım, üzerine bak. Git değiş." Burnunu kırıştırdı ve beni içeri aldı.
Eve girdim ve büyükannemle Sibel'i oturma odasında konuşup gülerken buldum. Sehpanın üzerinde meyveler ve hatta bir elmalı turta vardı.
"Merhaba, büyükanne," dedim ve yanına gidip bir dilim elmalı turta almak istedim. Ama büyükannem elime vurdu.
"Dokunma. Bu senin için değil. Sibel için."
"Cem, ne oldu sana? Gel, sana temiz kıyafet getireyim," dedi Sibel ayağa kalkarak bana doğru yürürken.
"Uzun zamandır evlisiniz. Neden hala Cem'e adıyla sesleniyorsun?" diye sordu büyükannem Sibel'e ve ardından bana şüpheyle bakarak.
"Ona hitap etme biçimimde bir sorun mu var?" diye Sibel sordu.
"Siz genç evli çiftler, eşlerinize genellikle tatlım ya da bebeğim gibi lakaplar takmaz mısınız?"
Sibel durdu ve bir süre düşündü. Sonra boğazını temizledi. "Gel, tatlım. Sana üzerini değişmende yardımcı olayım."
Ceketimi çıkarmama yardım etti ve bana içten bir gülümseme sundu.
"İşte böyle," dedi büyükannem, memnuniyet dolu bir tonla.
Sibel'i çok severdi, ona ayrı bir düşkündü. Geçtiğimiz birkaç yıl boyunca Sibel yurt dışındayken, büyükannem sık sık onu sorardı. Ben de her defasında üstünkörü cevaplar verirdim.
Çok geçmeden büyükannem yeni bir konuya başladı.
"Cem, bu haftaya senin için doktor randevusu aldım. O zamana kadar içme. Gidip bir kontrolden geçmeni istiyorum."
Şaşırdım.
"Ama daha yeni kontrolden geçtim, büyükanne. Gayet sağlıklıyım."
"Öylesine bir kontrolden bahsetmiyorum. Daha özel bir konu. Yıllar geçti. Torunlarım nerede? Ve kesinlikle bu Sibel'in suçu değil. Senin suçun."
Sibel dudaklarını büzdü ve bana baktı. Çenesinde bir kas oynadı. Sanki kahkahasını tutmaya çalışıyor gibiydi.
Kendimi savunamadan önce telefonum çaldı ve derin bir nefes aldım.
Ceketimi tutan Sibel, telefonumu iç cebimden çıkardı ve ekrandaki arayan ismine baktı. Yüzündeki ani değişimden Rüya olduğunu anladım.
"O kadın mı? Aman Tanrım!" diye bağırdı annem.
Telefonumu Sibel'den alıp aramayı reddettim.
"Rüya mı? Sen artık evli bir adamsın Cem. Neden hala o kadınla görüşüyorsun? Sibel'e sadık olmalısın. Ayrıca haberlerde gördüğüm gelinlik denemesi fotoğrafları da neyin nesi? Neler oluyor?" diye büyükannem yüksek sesle çıkıştı. "Büyükanne, düşündüğün gibi değil."
"O zaman neden aramayı reddettin? Aranızda konuşacak gizli bir şey mi var?"
Ne diyeceğimi bilmiyordum. Başkalarına yalan söyleyebilirdim, ama büyükanneme asla. Her zaman gerçeği görürdü.
Büyükannem öfkesinden titriyordu. Sibel hemen ona bir bardak su doldurdu.
"Büyükanne, Cem sorunu memnuniyetle yanıtlayacaktır, ama önce onu kıyafetlerini değiştirmeye götüreyim," dedi Sibel, ardından beni yukarı iterek yatak odasına götürdü.
"Üçüncü dolapta birkaç beyaz gömlek var."
Sibel bana temiz bir gömlek almak için giderken, Deniz'in şa**p lekesiyle mahvettiği gömleği çıkardım. Zaten berbat olmuştu.
La**t olsun. Bir dahaki sefere bunu Deniz'in yanına bırakmayacağım.
Arkamda ani bir sessizlik hissettim. Geriye döndüm.
Sibel, elinde gömlekle orada duruyordu ve bana bakıyordu. Yanaklarındaki kızarıklığı saklamaya çalışarak çenesini eğdi.
"Ne zamandır orada duruyorsun?" diye sordum.
Cevap vermedi. Sadece gözlerini hızlıca kapattı. Ona doğru yürüdüm.
Bu sefer, yeni halini daha net görebiliyordum. Artık eski küçük kız değildi. Fransa'da geçirdiği son üç yıl, onu bir tomurcuktan narin bir güle dönüştürmüştü.
Uzun kirpikleri titriyordu. Dudakları ince bir çizgi halinde sıkışmış, sanki duygularını bastırıyordu. Yüzü her geçen dakika daha da kızarıyordu.
Elindeki gömleği aldım ve hızlıca giyindim.
Temiz gömleği giyindikten sonra, birlikte oturma odasına döndük.
"Çok fazla zamanım kalmadı, Cem. Neden Sibel ile huzurlu bir hayat süremiyorsun? Neden beni sürekli kızdırıyorsun, ha?" Büyükannem hala beni suçluyordu.
"Büyükanne, bir dahaki sefere buraya gelmek istersen beni ara, seni almaya gelirim, tamam mı?" dedim ve konuyu değiştirmeye çalıştım, çünkü ne diyeceğimi hala bilmiyordum.
"Hayır, teşekkürler. Sen her zaman çok meşgulsün. Rahatsız etmek istemem. Sadece eşine iyi davranıp davranmadığını görmek istiyorum."
"Büyükanne, ben iyiyim," diye araya girdi Sibel.
"Peki, güzel. Bu arada, yarın Demir Grubu'nun 60. yıl dönümü partisi, unutma. Cem, Sibel'e parti için güzel bir gece elbisesi al. Herkesin onun gibi birini bulduğun için ne kadar şanslı olduğunu görmesini istiyorum. Bir daha beni mutsuz etme, anladın mı genç adam?"
"Tabii ki, büyükanne."
Böylece uzun bir sohbetin ardından büyükanne ve annemi ikna edip geceyi sonlandırmalarını sağladım ve onları uğurladım.
Durum böyleyken, onlara boşanmayı nasıl söyleyeceğimi gerçekten bilmiyordum; yoksa ortalık fena karışacaktı.
Bölüm 4 Sibel'in bakış açısı: Açgözlü Bir Adam
Gökkuşağı Rüyası Restoranı'nda Cem ve Rüya'ya veda ettikten sonra, Cem'in annesi Alara beni aradı. Bana kendisinin ve Kristin'in (Cem'in büyükannesi) bizi ziyarete geleceklerini söyledi.
Onları en son gördüğümden beri çok zaman geçmişti. Alara'nın araması beni o kadar heyecanlandırdı ki, telefonda ona neredeyse bağırarak onayımı ilettim.
İkisini de, özellikle de Büyükanne Kristin'i görmeyi dört gözle bekliyordum. Onu ve lezzetli elmalı turtalarını özlemiştim.
Onlar bana her zaman çok nazik davrandılar ve kendimi aileden biri gibi hissetmemi sağladılar. Cem ile benim boşanmayı planladığımızı öğrenselerdi, çok üzülürlerdi.
Bu yüzden Cem ve ben elimizden gelenin en iyisini yaptık ve Alara ve Kristin eve dönmeye karar verene kadar normal, birbirini seven evli bir çift gibi davrandık.
Onlara söylemenin zamanı henüz gelmemişti. Kristin'in olağanüstü sezgisel yeteneği nedeniyle çok dikkatli olmamız gerekiyordu.
O, yalanı ve aldatmayı kilometrelerce uzaktan, tıpkı bir köpekbalığının sudaki bir damla k**ı koklaması gibi sezebiliyordu.
Cem'in eve geleceğini beklemiyordum, ama onu görür görmez ona karşı ilgili bir eş gibi davrandım. Dürüst olmak gerekirse, performansım için Oscar ödülünü hak ettiğimi düşünüyordum.
Büyükanne Kristin'in, Cem'i yaramaz, yerinde duramayan küçük bir çocukmuş gibi azarlamasını düşününce, gülmemek için kendimi zor tuttum.
"Komik olan ne?"
"Ne? "Hiçbir şey," diye mırıldandım. Evde bir süre yalnız kalabileceğim bir yer bulmam gerekiyordu. Cem'le boşanma hakkında konuştuğumuzdan beri, onunla aynı odada kalmakta biraz zorlanıyordum.
"Nereye gidiyorsun?"
"Mutfağa."
"Bana banyo hazırlayabilir misin lütfen?" Cem soğuk bir yüzle emir verdi.
"Tamam."
Arkamı dönüp yukarı, banyoya gittim. Kocaman beyaz porselen çift kişilik küvete baktım ve onu hiç kullanmadığımı fark ettim. Birdenbire, Cem'in bunun içinde banyo yaptığını hayal ettim.
Hayal gücümün Cem'in küvetteki sahnesini abartması ve beni alt üst etmesi sadece üç kalp atışı sürdü. 'Ne oluyor böyle, Sibel? Kocan hakkında uygunsuz düşüncelere artık son ver!
Kafamı salladım ve musluğu açtım. Suyun sıcaklığını ayarladıktan sonra küvetin dolmasını bekledim.
Küvetin kenarına oturdum ve yarın akşamki yemek partisini düşündüm. Cem ile gitmeli miyim?
Dürüst olmak gerekirse, Cem'le partiye gitmek beni biraz rahatsız ederdi, ama ailesini uzun zamandır görmemiş veya onlarla konuşmamıştım.
Alara'yı, Büyükanne Kristin'i ve ayrıca Levent'i tekrar görmeyi gerçekten çok isterdim. Onları küçük bir kız çocuğuyken tanıyordum ve gerçekten de onları ailem olarak görüyorum.
Düşüncelerime dalmışken, banyo kapısı aniden açıldı.
İçgüdüsel olarak arkamı döndüm ama dengemi koruyamadım.
Bir sonraki an kendimi küvetin içine düşerken buldum.
Neyse ki küvet neredeyse doluydu. O kadar büyüktü ki, sanki bir yüzme havuzuna düşmüş gibi hissettim.
Düşüp yere yığılacağımdan ölesiye korktum ve içgüdüsel olarak çırpındım. Sonra küvette olduğumu hatırladım ve durdum.
Banyo, musluktan akan su sesi dışında aniden ürkütücü bir sessizliğe büründü.
"Özür dilerim... Çok özür dilerim," diyerek hızla küvetten çıktım. Dışarı adımımı attığımda her yere su sıçrattım.
"Neden özür diliyorsun?" Cem kaşlarını çattı ve bana baktı.
Sırılsıklam ıslanmıştım. Üzerimde tamamen giyinmeme rağmen kendimi çı**ak gibi hissettim.
Gömleğimdeki suyu biraz sıkmaya çalıştım ama sanki onurumun boğazını sıkıyormuş gibi hissettim.
Neden küvetin kenarına oturmak zorundaydım ki zaten? Orada durup dolmasını bekleyebilirdim.
"Suyu değiştireceğim." Hemen musluğu kapattım ve küvetin giderini açtım.
"Hayır, ben hallederim. Git ve üzerini değiştir."
Cem öksürdü, banyo havlusunu bana fırlattı ve arkasını döndü.
Havluyu vücuduma sardım ve temiz, kuru kıyafetler giymek için odama koştum. Temiz kıyafetlerimi giydikten sonra, Cem'in kullanması için başka bir banyo havlusu aldım ve banyoya geri döndüm.
Cem'i orada yarı çı**ak dururken buldum. Çok kaslı değildi ama sıkı ve inceydi.
Arkamı dönüp gitmek istedim ama gözlerim sanki kendi başına hareket ediyordu. Ona bakmaktan kendimi alamadım.
Yandan görünüşü sayesinde sekizli karın kaslarının yarısını ve pantolonunun içine kadar uzanan Adonis kemerini görebildim.
Yanaklarım ısınmaya başladıkça yutkundum. Cem tam pantolonunu çıkaracaktı ki, birden durdu ve bana bakmak için döndü.
Sonra bana doğru yürümeye başladı...
Kalbim gittikçe daha hızlı atıyordu...
......
Sonra ne olacak? Burada sınırlı sayıda bölüm var, daha fazla heyecan dolu bölüm okumak için aşağıdaki butona tıklayarak uygulamayı yükleyin.
(Uygulama açıldığında otomatik olarak bu kitaba yönlendirileceksiniz.)
&5&
Determined to stop the bullying, she vowed to make her family pay. Her disabled fiancé proposed a marriage alliance to help her fight back. What started as a deal turned into love--he adored her, and she discovered she was his savior all along!
=====
"Janice, how vicious you could be! Do you even realize what you've done to your sister? "
"I brought you back, gave you all you needed, and offered you a place to belong. Is this how you thank me? You're going to learn your lesson today!"
Laurie Edwards snarled, her rage boiling over as the whip struck her daughter with a brutal, echoing crack.
The sharp snap of the whip reverberated through the vast mansion, silencing the servants who stood as still as sculptures, not daring to utter a single word.
Despite this, Janice Edwards remained stoic, her slight frame quivering as she clenched her teeth tightly, bearing the excruciating pain that seemed to rip through her skin.
With Laurie's arm each swung, marking Janice's back with deep, crimson streaks, her face turning pale.
Yet, her gaze remained steady, lit with a spark of resolve. Maybe she had become numb to such brutal punishments.
"Now, apologize to Delilah." Panting from the exertion, Laurie stood with one hand resting on her hip, eyes blazing as she glared at Janice.
"Why should I apologize when I've done nothing wrong?" Janice met Laurie's gaze, her voice firm, each word a defiance.
Laurie's fury peaked as she saw Janice's unyielding stance. Gripping the whip tightly, she declared, "Then I will not stop until you apologize today."
At that crucial moment, Delilah Edwards, Laurie's adopted daughter, clutched Laurie's arm, her eyes brimming with tears as she implored, "Mom! Please, no more hitting Janice. It's actually my fault--I never told her about my allergy to mango."
"Delilah, your heart is too big. She nearly got you killed, yet here you are, defending her." Laurie sighed, patting Delilah's hand gently, warmth flooding her voice.
"She's just malicious. In her desperate bid for attention, she gave you mango pudding, knowing well about your allergy. How utterly cruel, don't you think?"
"But I swear, I didn't know!" Janice protested, tears welling up in her eyes as she faced the tight-knit pair before her. "I really didn't know about her allergy!"
"Still making excuses?" Laurie snapped, landing another strike on Janice, her words icy and biting as the sting radiated across Janice's skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
Ever since Janice had returned to her family, any dispute involving Delilah invariably ended with Janice taking the blame. No matter her arguments or the evidence she presented, it was always brushed aside as deceitful.
When Delilah had a fall down the stairs, she had accused Janice of pushing her, and their parents had sided with Delilah without a second thought.
Even though Janice was their flesh and blood, she seemed to hold a lesser place in their hearts than Delilah, the adopted one.
In their eyes, perhaps she was nothing more than a schemer, always out to hurt Delilah to win some affection.
Delilah cast a sympathetic look towards Janice. "Mom, I get where Janice is coming from. After all, I've take her place as your daughter for over a decade. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably feel bitter too. Perhaps if I leave, she'll finally feel at peace, and the family can mend."
Her words, coated in a veneer of concern, were a clever ruse to cast Janice further into disfavor, and Laurie swallowed the bait wholeheartedly.
Janice's heart sank deeper into despair, a silent tally of grievances against her family mounting with each passing moment.
In an instant, a sharp whip snapped her back to the harsh present. She locked eyes with Laurie, whose gaze was frosty and filled with contempt.
Laurie's voice cut through the air, icy and sharp. "Just look at Delilah, always so thoughtful and polite! If you were even half as considerate, I'd be over the moon. Yet here you are, denying your mistake, as if to piss me off on purpose."
Janice stood her ground firmly. "I'll tell you once more, the pudding I handed her had no mango in it. If you doubt me, just check the grocery list!"
"Why even bother to check? It's not like Delilah would deceive us about such things." Laurie, her faith in Delilah unshakable, saw no need to confirm the items listed for shopping.
"Mom..." Delilah's voice trembled, her act delicately woven with vulnerability. "If it eases Janice's mind, then perhaps I did wrong her."
"Delilah, please, don't cry. You don't deserve to suffer this way. I'll ensure that ungrateful girl is held accountable." Laurie's gaze hardened, her grip on her whip tightening, her authority palpable.
"If you don't want to apologize, that's entirely up to you. In three days, Efrery will host its first fashion design contest. If you give your design draft to Delilah, I'll let this go."
Again?
Those icy words pierced Janice, sending a deep shiver through her being.
Throughout the year, she had tirelessly given in, desperate for a sliver of her family's acknowledgment and praise.
From the start, the bedroom had been hers by right. But they coaxed Janice into surrendering it, saying Delilah had grown attached to its comforts.
Even her rightful identity as the Edwards family's daughter had been obscured, all to safeguard Delilah's pride.
The list of such sacrifices stretched endlessly.
To stay with this family and gain their favor, Janice had given up more than she cared to admit.
But now, Laurie was pushing her to give up her design draft for the fashion contest, her future hanging in the balance.
"Say something," Laurie urged as Janice remained silent. "Have you lost your voice?"
"Mom, please," Delilah interjected, gripping Laurie's arm, shaking her head.
"Janice is competing too. What will she do if she hands over her draft to me? Though I feel confident about winning, I..." She paused, coughing weakly, her frame quivering as though she might faint. "I don't think my health allows it."
"She caused you harm, it's only right she makes amends." Laurie locked eyes with Janice with a penetrating stare. "I'll ask you one last time--are you giving up the draft or not?"
Janice's chest tightened as she took a deep, uneven breath. "Mom, aren't I your daughter too?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly.
"You claim to be my daughter, but you disregard my wishes?"
This overt display of favoritism broke Janice's heart completely. She closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll let her have the draft."
A sly smile flickered across Delilah's face. While Janice was often too yielding, her design skills were top-notch. With Janice's draft in hand, clinching first place seemed all but guaranteed.
"You do have a conscience after all," Laurie remarked, one eyebrow arched as she nonchalantly flung the whip aside and offered Delilah a warm smile.
"With Janice's design draft, you can stop stressing about the competition. Just relax and enjoy the award when it comes."
"Thanks, Mom," Delilah responded, her face lighting up with a joyful grin. Yet, shortly after, a timid look crossed her face as she glanced at Janice. "But won't Janice resent me for using her draft?"
"Would she even dare?" Laurie's voice turned frosty as she fixed a stern gaze on Janice. "If she harbors any resentment, she'll find herself out on the streets. The Edwards family don't keep the ungrateful around, family or not."
"What if Janice accuses me of stealing her design?" Delilah's voice was tinged with worry.
"Then I will ensure that every bit of her involvement is obliterated, crediting you alone."
Laurie's harsh words stunned Janice, her heart sinking deeper into despair with each moment.
Had her year of endurance and compromise been in vain?
"Huh!" Janice scoffed, a bitter laugh breaking through as the final remnants of her hopes disintegrated, leaving her utterly disillusioned with the family.
Chapter 2 Fighting Back
"What's so funny, Janice?" Laurie tilted her head in confusion.
"I laugh at the absurdity of my own foolishness, how time and again I've surrendered, only to feed your boundless greed," Janice answered, her laughter tinged with a sharp, mocking edge.
"Greed? Isn't it your duty, as an elder sister, to make concessions for Delilah?" Laurie's retort came wrapped in a veneer of self-righteousness, unaware that the spark of hope in Janice's eyes had long been extinguished.
Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Janice declared with determination, "I kept stepping back, hoping my sacrifices would kindle even a spark of affection from you. But my efforts were in vain, dismissed and trampled upon as if they were nothing but failures."
Her voice rose, reverberating with force around the room.
Janice rose from the floor, her posture now reflecting a mix of defiance and strength.
"You promised me a life of opulence upon my return to the Edwards family. Yet, what have I received? Not even the courtesy of a decent meal. Tell me, beyond using and crushing me, have you ever acted with a shred of humanity?"
With her hands clutching her chest, Janice continued, "I am your own daughter! Have you ever, even once, called me 'sweetie'?"
Her laugh then broke through, hysterical yet filled with sorrow.
Laurie frowned, her voice icy as she responded, "Isn't this all because you want to hear me call you 'sweetie'? Fine. Sweetie! Is that what you wanted?"
With a sharp, almost manic laugh, Janice shook her head. "Mrs. Edwards, your pathetic attempt at fake love is almost entertaining."
At that moment, her laughter ceased abruptly, her eyes turning cold and piercing. "I no longer crave your affection. As of today, I sever all bonds with the Edwards family."
"This is outright rebellion!" Laurie exclaimed, her fury palpable as she grasped the whip again and lashed out at Janice.
However, Janice intercepted the whip effortlessly, her expression steely and resolute. "Do you still want to hit me? Once, I was your daughter, and I tolerated a mother's discipline. But now, we share no bond. By what right do you raise your hand against me?"
A sly smirk twisted Janice's lips, her previously gentle demeanor now replaced with a rebellious edge.
She wrested the whip from Laurie, giving it a casual flick through the air. "You hit me just now. It seems only fair to return the favor."
"What are you going to do?" Laurie staggered back, her expression one of shock as Janice turned from a docile victim into a figure of daunting courage.
With a deafening snap, the whip struck Laurie's body, leaving a fiery sting in its wake.
"How dare you hit me!" Laurie cried out in pain, her rage reaching a boiling point. "You won't get away with this!"
"Janice, how could you hit Mom?" Delilah exclaimed in shock.
Janice cast a chilling glance at Delilah, sending shivers down her spine. Delilah couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling, pondering the drastic change in Janice.
"If you're so concerned about her, why don't you take the hit for her?" Janice snapped, her words cutting through the air.
With that, the whip lashed out, striking Delilah sharply.
"Ah!" Delilah shrieked as the lash connected, a wave of intense pain overwhelming her thoughts.
She couldn't believe this. Janice must have lost her sanity to strike her.
"Janice, stop this madness! I won't allow you to harm Delilah!" Laurie roared, rushing to encase Delilah in her arms, disregarding her own agony.
But Janice was relentless, her whip mercilessly striking Laurie again and again.
Laurie's cries of pain echoed through the room, her body quaking, her eyes rolling back as if she were about to pass out.
Yet this agony was nothing compared to the suffering Janice had gone through for a year. She was holding back right now. Otherwise, Laurie would have already succumbed.
"Janice, please, stop! You're killing Mom! It's all my fault. Hit me if you must, but please..." Delilah pleaded, her words cut off as Janice yanked her from Laurie's protective embrace.
"Janice, let go of Delilah!" Despite her own suffering, Laurie was still worried about Delilah. What a "great" mother she was!
"Aren't you allergic to mango?" Janice snorted, a sinister smile playing on her lips.
"What the hell are you doing? You better let me go right now! Dad's going to be back any minute, and when he hears what you did to Mom, he'll rip you apart!" Delilah's heart thudded in her chest, her trembling hands frozen by her sides as she gaped at Janice in horror.
"Then I'll make sure you're gone before he can lay a hand on me."
Janice seized a mango pudding from the table and pressed it against Delilah's lips.
Delilah twisted and writhed, but Janice's grip was like steel, leaving her choking as the pudding was thrust down her throat.
"Stop, Janice! You'll kill her!" Laurie bellowed, her voice laced with terror. "Someone, please! Stop this madness!"
Reacting to Laurie's cries, the servants quickly closed in on Janice.
Without a moment's hesitation, Janice whipped out the lash, cracking it in the air with a sharp snap that struck a servant harshly. "Take one more step, and you're fucking dead!" she declared, her eyes glinting with a chilling resolve that froze the servants in their tracks.
They exchanged looks of disbelief. Was this really the same girl who had always absorbed her suffering in silence?
"Delilah, please, talk to me!" Laurie crawled towards her, tears streaming down her face. "Don't scare me like this!"
"Mrs. Edwards, perhaps it's time you witnessed how your dear daughter handles her allergic reactions."
She sneered and strode out of the room. This place no longer felt like a home.
The servants gathered around, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. They were unaccustomed to seeing such a bold display of defiance from Janice, who was usually so meek and accommodating.
The memory of Janice beating Laurie and forcefully feeding Delilah mango pudding hung heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of the ordeal.
Chapter 3 A Deal
Janice stepped out from the Edwards family's mansion, her gaze drifting slowly over the silent, empty street. Despite the residual pain that clung to her, a peculiar lightness blossomed within her chest.
Reflecting on her year with the Edwards family, she acknowledged the suffocating nature of her existence there.
Driven by a deep-seated desire for family warmth, she had willingly shackled her own desires, hoping in vain for a sliver of their affection.
Sadly, all she encountered was sheer apathy and relentless demands.
Janice cast one final glance at the mansion, its walls exuding a haughty splendor, a silent testament to aristocratic pride.
"Let's see how long your greatness lasts without me around," Janice muttered under her breath, turning her head away.
As she took a step towards her new freedom, a voice unexpectedly halted her.
"Miss Edwards, you truly are full of surprises."
Janice spun around. Before her, guided by a bodyguard, was a man seated in a wheelchair.
His features were arrestingly handsome--the sharp contours of his face striking, his presence effortlessly commanding the light around him despite his seated position.
However, he was a man marked by a disability. This very disability had led Delilah to scorn him, compelling the Edwards family to bring Janice back to take Delilah's place in an arranged marriage to him.
"Mr. Green, what exactly are you implying?" Janice's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing with a palpable intensity that suggested imminent danger.
Aiden Green, with a slight lift of his brow, regarded her with a curious expression. "I must admit, I'm taken aback. I didn't expect you, typically so docile, to reveal such a formidable side. It's quite unexpected."
"Have you been watching me?" Janice's tone grew colder, her fists tightening subtly as she braced herself for any necessary confrontation.
Unruffled, Aiden signaled with a subtle gesture for his bodyguards to hold their positions. "Considering you are my fiancee, I believe it's rather normal for me to take an interest in your affairs, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes," Janice conceded, softening her posture as she stepped closer to Aiden.
"But are you truly prepared to accept me as your fiancee? I remember well your previous demeanor towards me--it was rather dismissive, even bordering on contemptuous."
"That was in the past," Aiden replied, his voice halting as he locked eyes with Janice, whose gaze no longer bore traces of vulnerability.
In that moment, he perceived a change in her, as if she was a completely different person. "I now believe you are indeed suited to stand beside me."
Janice's smile danced in the evening breeze, her hair fluttering like silken threads. Her smile, though beautiful, carried a frosty undertone. "Mr. Green, let's cut to the chase. What are you really after?"
Aiden raised his eyebrows, intrigued. The changes she had undergone were even more significant than he had imagined. "Let's make a deal," he suggested smoothly.
"Alright, go on," Janice urged, her eyes locked on his with resolute poise.
"You've severed ties with the Edwards family. Once Connor is back, he won't let this slide." Aiden's voice was low and captivating.
"I'm in a position to shield you from their backlash and offer the support you need to chase your ambitions. You loathe them now, don't you? You're out for retribution, I guess?"
Janice's eyes narrowed, a spark of recognition flickering within. Aiden had pierced right through her facade. The Edwards family had presumed that bringing her back was a charitable gesture.
However, she would prove them wrong. She would show them how ignorant they were and what immense wealth and prosperity they had missed.
"And what is it that you want?" she inquired, her voice steady.
"Let's go register our marriage tomorrow."
Aiden's words made Janice momentarily stunned, but then her lips curled into a smile. "Deal."
Chapter 4 No Allergies?
The Edwards family was now shrouded in an oppressive and somber air.
With Connor Edwards, Laurie's husband, back, a palpable tension had settled in, stifling enough that the servants didn't dare to make a sound.
Connor's fury was barely contained as he pounded his fist on the table, his voice a menacing growl. "Unbelievable! Hitting her mother was bad enough, but forcing Delilah to eat mango pudding too? Was Janice crazy?"
Laurie urged, "Connor, you have to stand up for Delilah. We took Janice in, clothed her, fed her and provided shelter, yet look how she repays us. Such actions could tarnish our good name if word spreads."
"She will return and apologize," Connor vowed, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. He turned to address the butler. "Where is Janice now? Get her back to me."
"Aiden Green has taken her away."
"What?" Connor was taken aback. "Aiden Green? What in the world is happening?"
The butler shook his head, his own confusion evident. "Mr. Green's timing was suspicious. He only appeared after Janice's outburst. Maybe there's something going on between them."
A cold realization dawned on Connor as he pieced the events together. Janice's boldness probably stemmed from her association with Aiden.
"She thinks she's untouchable with Aiden in her corner. Does she think that worthless man's support allows her to act however she pleases?"
At that moment, Bartley Carter, the family doctor, descended the staircase.
Connor and Laurie, momentarily setting aside their brewing anger, turned to him with concern. "Bartley, how is Delilah doing right now?"
"Miss Edwards merely had a scare, nothing of grave concern."
"What? That doesn't make sense!" Laurie frowned, her face a mixture of shock and concern. "She ate an entire mango pudding."
Bartley hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing in bewilderment. "What's so bad about eating a whole mango pudding?"
"She has a mango allergy."
"That's not the case. Miss Edwards has no such allergy."
Stunned, Connor and Laurie exchanged bewildered looks.
Delilah wasn't allergic to mango? Did Delilah really throw an unfounded accusation at Janice?
"Bartley, are you absolutely certain about Delilah's lack of allergy?" Laurie pressed on, seeking confirmation once more.
"Absolutely. If she were truly allergic, consuming such an amount would have necessitated an emergency hospital visit," Bartley affirmed with professional confidence.
Recognizing Bartley's expertise and dedication, Connor and Laurie nodded in acceptance of his diagnosis.
"Thank you, Bartley," Connor remarked gratefully. "I'll ensure the consultation fee is transferred to you later."
Bartley acknowledged with a nod. "If there's nothing further, I shall take my leave now."
Connor asked the butler to see Bartley out. Turning around, he found Laurie immersed in contemplation, her gaze distant and unfocused. "Could it be that Delilah faked her allergy just to set Janice up?"
Shaking her head slightly, Laurie responded, "I'm just relieved Delilah isn't truly allergic to mango. By the way, now that Janice is with Aiden, what do you think we should do?"
"Ha! As if Aiden was willing to protect her without our backing. She'll be crawling back soon enough, begging to be forgiven!" Connor predicted with a sneer.
Laurie nodded in agreement. Janice had been cruel, but at the end of the day, she was nothing more than an ungrateful girl, not worth wasting another moment on.
With these thoughts stirring in her mind, she ascended the stairs to Delilah's room.
"Mrs. Edwards, you need to stand up for Delilah."
As Laurie stepped through the doorway, a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform grasped her hand.
It was Daryl Quimby, the devoted servant of the Edwards family.
As soon as she saw Laurie, Daryl began to complain, "I've looked after Delilah since she was a child, treating her like my own daughter. To see her endure such pain cuts me deeply. Although Janice is your own flesh and blood, she is ungrateful. Despite all the love the Edwards family has showered upon her, she struck you and nearly took Delilah's life. It's utterly reprehensible."
"Daryl, please, try to calm down. I assure you, I won't let this slide. Janice may be my own daughter, but I won't overlook her actions."
"Delilah is incredibly fortunate to have such a loving mother."
Laurie smiled. "I'm the one who's truly fortunate to have Delilah as my daughter."
She moved deeper into the room and approached Delilah, who lay frailly in the bed. A pang of concern tightened her chest at this sight. "Delilah, my dear, how are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling a lot better now, Mom. Bartley just confirmed that I'm not allergic to mango." Tears streamed down Delilah's face as she put on an act of guilt. "Mom, do you think I set Janice up?"
Laurie shook her head. "No, sweetheart. I believe you, dear. This must have been a simple misunderstanding. Plus, it's a relief to hear you're not allergic to mango. I would have been really worried otherwise."
A faint, wistful smile flickered across Delilah's face. "Mom, maybe it would be best if I left. Janice's sudden madness today scared me. She must hate me so much. If I'm gone, she'll probably be happier, and things might be more peaceful for the Edwards family."
"Delilah, you have such a big heart." Laurie sighed, feeling sorry for Delilah. "Even after all this, you're thinking about Janice's feelings. If only she could see the goodness in you like I do. After today, I cannot see her as my daughter anymore."
"Mom, Janice is a poor girl..."
"Let's drop the subject," Laurie replied sharply, waving her hand with an air of finality. Her expression soured at the mention of Janice's name. "Focus on your rest. You know, the fashion design competition is in three days. When you clinch the first prize, I'll appoint you as the vice president of our company."
"Mom, you're the best."
Inside, however, Delilah's thoughts took a scornful turn. How delightfully gullible the Edwards family was, swayed by mere sweet nothings.
Poor Janice had not only given her design to her but had also been ousted from the Edwards family. Delilah believed it wouldn't be long before she seized control of all that belonged to the Edwards family.
The upcoming fashion design competition was no ordinary event. Hosted by Routique Fashion, a titan in the industry known for setting the global fashion trends, the event was a spectacle in its own right.
Among the luminaries of the fashion world was JE, a name spoken with utmost reverence.
Regarded as a visionary among her peers, JE's creations were deemed masterpieces, setting the standards for all aspiring designers.
Yet, JE remained shrouded in mystery, never once stepping into the public eye. Rumors abounded, and some fanatics even dangled a million-dollar bounty for a real-life encounter with the elusive designer.
The Edwards family had long been leading figures in the fashion world. Laurie, as a celebrated designer, held considerable sway over industry trends.
Her role as a judge at the imminent competition only cemented their family's influential legacy.
Chapter 5 Why Is She Here?
At the designer competition venue, Delilah, adorned in a sumptuous ensemble, strolled through the hall, exuding confidence and vivacity. Her presence commanded the attention of many.
Recognizing her potential victory, acquaintances swarmed around her, eager to ingratiate themselves.
It was an open secret that Laurie, a towering figure in the world of fashion design, meant that the competition's grand prize was almost certainly destined for Delilah.
Winning would not only affirm her talent but also secure her a prominent position within Edwards Group's fashion division.
"Miss Edwards, you are absolutely radiant today! Surely, this exquisite outfit is your creation?"
"Indeed, Miss Edwards' flair for design is a beautiful echo of her mother's legacy--truly captivating. Even her casual outfits set her apart. I have no doubt that her entry for today will leave us all spellbound."
Delilah held her head high with an air of pride. She was looking forward to the jealous stares that would follow her anticipated triumph. "Thank you, I am deeply honored. My mother's mentorship has been invaluable."
Nearby, Laurie listened with a smile, her heart swelling with pride. "It's your innate talent too, Delilah. Without it, even the finest mentorship would falter."
"By the way, Mrs. Edwards, I heard your other daughter will also be in the competition. Why haven't we seen her yet?" someone asked.
Laurie's demeanor hardened, and she replied sharply, "I have only one daughter, Delilah. Who are you referring to?"
The crowd fell into a hushed silence. Although the true daughter of the Edwards family had not been publicly acknowledged, rumors had circulated. Laurie's feigned ignorance took everyone aback.
Laurie's brow furrowed, her voice laced with contempt. "You must be mistaken. Are you talking about that girl who can't even sketch a simple design? She has no place here in this competition."
The crowd exchanged looks, piecing together Laurie's harsh dismissal as a blatant denial of her own flesh and blood, favoring her adopted daughter as the heiress.
However, they didn't care whom the title belonged to. They just needed to know who was cherished by the Edwards family.
"I heard JE is supposed to make an appearance at today's event. Being a judge, you must have heard something about that, Mrs. Edwards?"
"Wait, JE is going to be here?" Laurie's eyebrows shot up, her voice laced with surprise as she processed the unexpected news. The thought of JE attending ignited an excited thrill deep within her.
Her design firm had hit a snag on a challenging project, but JE's presence could effortlessly draw in enthusiastic collaborators.
"Mrs. Edwards, you didn't know?"
Regaining her poise, Laurie answered with a gracious smile, "Well, I really shouldn't say."
Her answer was tactful, skillfully masking her unawareness while implying that she was privy to secrets she couldn't divulge due to confidentiality constraints.
"Mrs. Edwards, if there's ever a chance, we'd love for you to introduce us to JE!"
"Of course," Laurie agreed amiably.
Soon, a lively crowd gathered around Laurie, exchanging trivial niceties.
They were all driven by the same ambition--to forge a connection with a luminary in the fashion design industry through Laurie.
A wave of pride washed over Delilah. The more prominent Laurie became, the more she, as her daughter, would shine.
If Janice happened to witness her reveling in this glowing admiration, adored like a queen, she'd absolutely be burning with envy, wouldn't she?
Delilah's eyes suddenly snapped to a familiar silhouette.
Was that Janice? What was she doing here? Had she come to submit another design for the competition?
......
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&5&
"Let's end this marriage."
That single sentence was all it took to plunge Christina into a woman unwanted by a wealthy family.
On the day that should have marked a joyful third anniversary, Christina had gone to Brendon's office, eager to invite him out to celebrate.
Stepping inside, her eyes fell immediately on an ornate necklace gleaming atop his desk.
Brendon noticed her stare.
"Yolanda's come back. This is her present," he explained, his words sharp and cool.
Everything became painfully clear in that instant.
Brendon's old flame, Yolanda, had returned and reclaimed her place in his heart.
Christina dropped her gaze, thick-rimmed glasses doing little to mask the ache and disappointment swimming in her eyes.
Irritation creased Brendon's brow, "I'll make sure you're compensated. Let's get this over with and move on." he said, his voice cold and final.
Honestly, Brendon had never found fault with Christina's appearance, figure, or way of managing the household. The thing was, she simply bored him.
"You've got three days to make up your mind. Don't test my patience--I won't wait forever."
Without a flicker of hesitation, Christina replied, "No need for more time. I'll sign right now." She calmly picked up the pen and wrote her name on the divorce papers.
Together, they went through the motions at court, and soon every legal formality was behind them.
Walking out, Christina felt a heavy ache in her ch*st, yet a strange sense of freedom crept in as well.
The hope of ever reaching Brendon's heart was gone--she would no longer waste her life in a one-sided relationship.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "F**k off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the h**l out of here!"
&7&
