Chapter 3

The scene spun further out of control.

She'd been clutching her throat, putting on a show — until a rash spread across Liora's skin, bright and angry.

"Is this an allergic reaction?" Father barked, leaning over her as she convulsed. "Why now, of all times?"

Mother's gaze snapped straight to me, sharp and furious.

Before I could blink, her palm cracked against my cheek. I stumbled and hit the tiled floor.

"Seren! What did you put in the food? Don't you remember what sets her off?!"

My head throbbed. The room swam.

Hot, sharp anger coiled tight in my chest, begging to break free. But I held it back, forcing the rage down.

Ronan stepped forward, disbelief written all over his face.

"You were so quiet… so compliant. And you'd do this? You tried to hurt Liora."

"How did I end up with a woman like you?" he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Enough!" Father slammed his fist down on the table. "Get her to the doctor right now!"

Everything blurred into chaos.

My parents and Ronan rushed Liora out of the house, frantic, as if she might shatter any second.

I was left alone. My cheek throbbed, and there was nothing but hollow space in my chest.

"It wasn't me."

I whispered the words out loud.

They wouldn't believe me. They never had. Not after all this time.

I felt warm wetness on my hand. The maid had come back, her eyes wide when she saw my skin.

"Miss Seren… your hands… they're swollen."

I glanced down. Red streaks snaked across my skin.

"I'm fine," I lied, brushing past her.

Back in my room, I pulled out an old leather notebook.

When I flipped open its worn cover, the smell of faded ink and pine drifted out — memories I'd tried hard to bury.

That winter, money was tight. The family was stretched thin, and the board kept pressing Father for more.

There wasn't enough to go around, not enough space or security for everyone. Someone had to be sent away.

I volunteered. The obedient daughter. The easy one to cast aside.

The remote regional branch sat hours away from the estate, a quiet facility for the family's lesser-known projects.

No fancy dinners, no family gatherings reached that far. Only work and silence.

That was where I learned to stand on my own.

They came once a year for Christmas. Each visit grew shorter.

They brought Liora expensive gifts, and asked less and less about me.

When I finally came home, the Brambleveil manor had grown grander. Its halls were filled with parties and status.

My room? A forgotten storage room near the back exit.

No windows. No warmth.

Just a quiet reminder: I was never part of the future they'd built.

I stuffed my things into a scuffed duffel bag.

The request for leave I'd submitted ahead of the engagement gala felt ridiculous now.

I grabbed my phone, ready to message my supervisor at the regional branch. I was mid-message when it rang.

Kael. My fiancé.

The one who was supposed to stand with me.

"What did you do to Liora?" he demanded the second I answered, no soft greeting, no concern for me. "She's at the clinic. Did you poison her?"

"It was an allergic reaction," I said simply.

"Don't lie to me. You've always been jealous. How could you hurt your own sister?"

His words burned away the last faint hope I'd held onto.

"Fine. I hurt her. I'll apologize once she's better. Are we done?"

He went quiet for a beat, stunned by how calm I was.

We'd fought about Liora dozens of times before.

He used to flirt with her under the excuse of checking on her. Ordered her favorite dishes when we had dinner together. Ignored everything I needed, everything I wanted.

"She's your sister," he'd always say, like that excused it all.

To this family, I was always the one overreacting. The unstable one.

When Liora left for her overseas training, I'd breathed easy for the first time.

That fragile peace didn't last. The chaos was back.

"If anything else happens to Liora," Kael warned, his tone cold, "the engagement is off."

Then the line went dead.

I could picture him hurrying to the clinic, brushing Liora's hair back from her face, playing the hero for the girl he really wanted.

A bitter ache spread through my chest.

Instead, I gave a faint smile, hung up, and called my supervisor from the regional branch.