Chapter 1
Penelope’s POV
That night, I was dragged into a parking lot and beaten until my hands could never hold a scalpel again.
I thought it was random. Until I heard my own brother and fiancé talking—
"Those thugs went too far, but the result works out, doesn't it? This time, the award will go to Charlotte."
Charlotte. The "poor orphan" my family adopted.
For twelve years, she stole my papers, my opportunities, my glory. And the two men I trusted most handed her everything on a silver platter.
They called me spoiled. Selfish. Difficult.
Now they want me dead.
Fine. Let Penelope Ashworth die.
That night, I had just stepped out of surgery when a dozen men dragged me into a dark corner of the parking garage.
Fists. Batons. Knives.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.
The nerves in both hands were damaged beyond repair. I would never hold a scalpel again.
Spinal cord injury. Lower body paralysis. I'd spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.
My brother Lysander's eyes were red-rimmed as he swore he'd make those men pay. My fiancé Nicholas clutched my hand, trembling, promising to find the best medical team in the world.
I looked at them and thought: It's okay.
Even after everything, I still had my brother. I still had my fiancé.
I still had the two people who loved me most in this world.
But a week later, as I wheeled myself past a stairwell corner, I heard two familiar voices.
"Have you lost your mind?"
That was... Nicholas.
"The plan was just to make her miss the academic conference. Now Penny can't even use her hands!"
My wheelchair froze.
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Then Lysander's voice drifted down.
"Those thugs went overboard. But isn't this better? Now Charlotte is guaranteed to win the neuroscience award."
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
"But—" Nicholas hesitated.
"No buts." Lysander cut him off. "Penny's a pampered heiress. She's always had everything handed to her. I'm her brother, you're her fiancé—between the two of us, she'll be fine for the rest of her life. Even as a cripple."
"But Charlotte is different." He paused. "She's adopted. She's had to walk on eggshells her whole life. She's worked so hard for that award, but Penny was in her way—too brilliant, too accomplished. Charlotte has no one else to rely on but me. I won't let anyone stand in her path."
I heard Nicholas let out a long sigh.
"Fine." His voice was heavy with resignation. "Penny can barely sleep from the pain. At least tell the doctors to give her the strongest painkillers."
Footsteps faded away.
Silence swallowed me whole.
I sat in my wheelchair, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Those thugs weren't random.
The two people I trusted most had planned everything.
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream, wanting to cry. But the grief and despair rising in my throat came out as nothing more than a broken whimper.
I didn't understand.
Lysander was my blood. After our parents died, he was the only family I had left.
Nicholas was my fiancé. He'd sworn to protect me forever.
But they...
They destroyed me with their own hands.
For an adopted sister.
I thought back to twelve years ago.
The fire that killed my parents also brought Charlotte Vanderbilt into my life.
Her parents died alongside mine. The Ashworth family took her in.
I still remember her standing in our living room for the first time, timidly calling me "Penny."
I gave her my favorite Barbie doll, stupidly thinking: Finally, I have a little sister.
I had no idea this "poor, helpless" sister would become the greatest curse of my life.
It started small.
Charlotte broke an antique vase our father left behind—then tearfully blamed me.
Charlotte "lost" my academic paper—then played the victim, saying it was an accident.
Every single time, Lysander would frown at me: "Penny, stop making a scene."
Nicholas would rub his temples: "Charlotte didn't mean it. Just let it go."
Then things escalated.
A paper I spent three months writing? Published under Charlotte's name.
An overseas fellowship I'd earned? Given to Charlotte instead.
I watched helplessly as everything that was mine slowly slipped into her hands.
The most pathetic part?
I actually believed I wasn't good enough.
Until today, when I finally understood—
Everything I ever cherished had been hand-delivered to Charlotte by the two people I trusted most.
I don't know how long I sat in that corner.
I didn't know what reason I had left to live.
My hands were ruined. My legs were gone.
The only family and love I had were the ones who pushed me into hell.
I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the rooftop railing.
Maybe... if I jumped, it would all be over.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I stared at it for a long time before finally answering.
"Ms. Ashworth." A calm male voice. "This is Azura Research Institute. We've heard about your situation. Perhaps you'd like to join us?"
I laughed. Laughed until tears streamed down my face.
"I'm nothing but a broken shell. I'd only be a burden."
"No." His voice was steady, certain. "We can give you a new life. We can restore your hands. We can make you walk again."
My heart jolted.
A few seconds of silence.
"But our condition is this: once you join, you must sever all ties with your past. No contact with family or friends. To the outside world—Penelope Ashworth will be dead."
Dead.
I stared at the ceiling, and suddenly, the word didn't seem so terrifying.
Penelope Ashworth.
The Ashworth heiress. Lysander's sister. Nicholas's wife.
The woman who was cherished for twenty-eight years, then crushed into dust.
She really should die.
"Okay." I heard my own voice, calm as if I were talking about someone else. "I accept."
