No Longer the Golden Daughter's Backup
Fuzzy Melissa · Completed · 6.4k Words
Introduction
I should have seen this coming.
Within Brambleveil Manor, family was held up as the highest bond of all. But that warmth was never meant for me.
Seren Brambleveil, the family’s great disappointment.
Liora got every ounce of their affection, every privilege status could buy. Even my fiancé Kael belonged to her in his heart. All I received was an engagement gala where no‑one showed up.
I filled a notebook with every slight and injury I endured. I overheard my parents on the stairs, discussing how I was nothing more than a placeholder for Liora.
I bore undeserved slaps and unearned blame.
The man who had sworn to stand beside me never turned up on the night that should have been ours.
That night, I ran, leaving behind all the hollow ties of the manor.
Chapter 1
Today was supposed to be my engagement gala.
The night Kael Rainer would place our family heirloom ring on my finger and formally claim me as his fiancée, with every member of the Brambleveils watching.
We'd been raised side by side, prepped for this match since childhood.
Everyone said we fit perfectly—the heir and his steady intended.
Balanced. Predictable. Safe.
I smoothed the fabric of my custom gown for the hundredth time and glanced toward the grand entrance again.
Still empty. Not a single person had shown up.
Not my parents, not my twin brother Ronan, not even Kael.
Only me, standing alone amid the hush of the ballroom.
I pulled out my phone and checked notifications for the fifth time.
Nothing new.
My thumb hovered over Kael's name before I hit dial once more.
It rang twice, then diverted straight to voicemail.
I stared at the dark screen, torn between a hollow laugh and the urge to hurl the phone against the marble wall.
Then the family's private internal feed popped up with an alert:
[WELCOME HOME, OUR LIORA]
A video started playing automatically. There they were—my whole family, clustered together at the private airport arrival gate.
My father wore a bright, unguarded smile; my mother's cheeks glistened with happy tears.
Ronan lifted Liora off her feet and spun her in a tight hug. And Kael was there too, standing right behind her.
Liora's golden hair glinted under the terminal lamps.
Her arm looped snugly through Kael's, as if that spot by his side belonged to her by right. As if it had always belonged to her.
A burning ache spread through my chest.
Seconds later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Kael.
"Quit overreacting, Seren," he said, his tone flat, like I was bothering him over a trivial inconvenience.
"We can reschedule. Liora just got home from overseas —"
The line cut off abruptly.
I stared down at the screen. My fingers curled tight at my sides, fire pricking up my spine.
The ballroom stayed quiet around me. White garden rose petals, arranged for the gala, drifted softly down onto the polished floor.
I glanced down at the gown I'd spent months designing, stitching delicate beadwork along the hem. It pooled around me, heavy and foreign, like something I had no right to wear.
I slipped it off and left it draped over the banquet chair.
When I got back to Brambleveil Manor, the house hummed with celebration.
Someone had fired up the outdoor grill. Liora's signature perfume drifted through every hallway—rose mixed with sweet citrus, thick enough to overpower every other faint scent in the house.
Laughter rolled out from the formal living room. A welcome party, loud and careless.
No one noticed me slip in through the service kitchen door.
I went straight to my bedroom, sank onto the edge of my bed, and opened my journal.
On the pages was a running list I'd kept for years.
Every time I'd been forgotten. Overlooked. Pushed aside.
I picked up my pen and scribbled one more line at the bottom: [Engagement gala — no one came.]
A fist banged against the door.
It creaked open. Ronan stepped in without knocking, his dress shoes thudding on hardwood.
"There you are." His eyes flicked over me, catching the folded gown by my desk and my half-finished note to the board.
"Liora wants your chili. Make it spicy. She said she’s missed the way you make it."
I lifted my eyes to look at him, my hands resting calmly in my lap.
"You missed my engagement gala."
Ronan blinked, then shrugged like it barely mattered.
"It's just a party. You and Kael can reschedule it next month, or the month after. Liora's home, Seren. We haven't seen her in a whole year."
He reached out and grabbed my journal from the desk, flipping through the pages without asking permission. "You're still writing all this?"
His gaze landed on the fresh entry, the bold heading I'd marked at the top of the page: [FINAL WARNING].
He huffed a dry laugh. "What's that supposed to mean? You planning to run away?"
He tossed the journal back onto my bed. "Just make the chili, Seren."
I stood slowly and walked past him toward the kitchen.
My palms stung as I grabbed the ground beef from the fridge.
The luxury hand soap they'd ordered recently—Liora's favorite—had left splotchy red irritation across my wrists.
Ronan leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching me a little too closely.
"Why are you so quiet?" he asked. "You aren't planning to mess with her food, are you?"
Before I could reply, Liora's voice rang clear from the living room. "Ronnie! The caramel tarts!"
He rolled his eyes and muttered, "On my way," then turned and left, not sparing me a second glance.
I held my hands under cold running water, watching the red blotches fade to faint pink.
My gaze drifted across the countertop. There sat the custom celebration cake I'd ordered for the gala, untouched.
The two engagement rings rested beside it, tucked safely inside their velvet box.
I didn't cry. I simply stood there for a long while, staring at all the things that were meant to be important to me.
My mind settled. They had made their choice. Now it was my turn.
I glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
On the other side of the glass, laughter and warm light spilled from the living room where they celebrated.
Liora was home. She had everything.
As for me?
I was finished waiting.
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