Chapter 2

I stared down at the completely charred corpse below.

Being dead meant I would never feel cold again. I would no longer suffer that agonizing, excruciating ache deep in my marrow from being bled dry. And most of all, I would never again have to reduce myself to dust, begging for the approval of people who couldn't even bear to look at me.

The fire in the hallway outside hadn't actually spread very far. The Sterling manor was equipped with a state-of-the-art automatic sprinkler system. The moment the flames had grown even slightly out of control, the ceiling sprinklers kicked in.

But this storage attic—the one sealed shut by a solid silver lock—was an absolute blind spot.

The sprinklers didn't reach here. Worse, the fire-retardant coating on the outside of the wooden door had perfectly trapped the flames and the toxic smoke inside this tiny, suffocating space.

Out in the hallway, the floor was pooled with water, and a faint scorched scent hung in the air. A few manor servants were quickly cleaning up the mess.

"How did a fire start out of nowhere? Thank the Goddess it was only the abandoned corridor in the East Wing. None of the VIPs downstairs noticed," one servant whispered.

"Looks like faulty wiring. Just hurry up and mop it up. If the Luna finds out there was a hiccup during the gala, we'll all be packing our bags," another grumbled while wringing out a mop. "Did that country bumpkin in the attic make any noise?"

"Hah, would she dare? She's locked up tight by Master Kyle's silver chain. She's probably hiding in a corner crying her eyes out."

I floated there quietly, listening to their mockery, yet my heart didn't even skip a beat. It turned out that, in their eyes, I was worth less than a barking stray dog.

I drifted down the grand spiral staircase, hovering over the immense banquet hall.

The massive crystal chandelier cast a dazzling glow, and the long tables were laden with delicacies flown in from all over the world.

Werewolf aristocrats dressed to the nines held flutes of champagne, chatting and laughing cheerfully. Not a single person realized that just a few floors above their heads, the true daughter of this family had just been reduced to a pile of ash.

My gaze fell upon the center of the hall.

My mother, Selene, had a beaming smile on her face as she held Elena's hand, introducing her to one of the pack Elders. "Yes, not only is Elena's bloodline exceptionally pure, but she has also just awakened an incredibly rare healing gift. She is the absolute future of the Sterling family."

Elena lowered her head like a shy little princess, offering a perfectly calculated, sweet smile. Her cheeks were rosy, and her skin radiated a vibrant, healthy glow.

That was because of my blood.

Just a few hours ago, she had been leaning weakly against the sofa, looking as if even breathing was a chore. But now? She was the picture of vitality.

In truth, Elena's theatrical performances had started the very first day I was brought home.

Whenever we were alone, she would suffer sudden "panic attacks." If she walked ahead of me, she would "accidentally" tumble down the stairs. Then, she would cower in Selene's arms, shivering and sobbing that I was jealous of her—that I was trying to kill her so I could steal back my rightful position.

Selene bought every single one of those crocodile tears.

In her eyes, my return wasn't a family reunion; it was letting a viper into her home. She was thoroughly convinced that I was a malicious, vengeful threat, always plotting to harm her precious adopted daughter.

I used to be so incredibly naive. I thought that as long as I sacrificed enough—as long as I saved Elena's life—Mom would eventually hold me the way she held her.

But even as I was reduced to a burnt corpse, that embrace never came.

The gala gradually drew to a close.

After the last of the guests had departed, Kyle handed Selene a glass of water.

"Tonight was absolutely flawless," Kyle said with a smile. "Elena's performance was impeccable. Several major families have already hinted at marriage proposals."

Elena leaned obediently against Selene. "It's all thanks to you and Kyle teaching me so well. It's just... do you think it's too cruel leaving Sister all alone in the attic? I thought I smelled something burning from upstairs earlier."

Selene's face instantly darkened. "Don't mention that buzzkill. The servants said it was just some sparks from faulty wiring, and it was put out ages ago. If she was really scared, she would have been screaming her lungs out by now. The fact that she hasn't made a peep means she's probably just throwing a tantrum to spite us."

"She's just an ungrateful brat," Kyle scoffed coldly. "Acting like she was dying during the blood extraction today... so dramatically pathetic. If it weren't for your illness, I wouldn't even bear to look at her."

My mother gave a cold, cynical laugh, glancing at my brother. "Elena's blood condition was cured three years ago. We kept draining her just to put her in her place. Did she really think she could use the title of 'biological daughter' to steal Elena's position? Draining her dry is the price she pays for daring to threaten Elena's rightful status."

She stood up. "Come on, let's go up and check on her. The gala is over; it's time to let her out. But if she dares to give me an attitude, I'll make her kneel in the courtyard all night just to teach her some manners!"

Floating above their heads, I stared down at Selene's face—twisted with anger and disgust—and suddenly felt a surge of sorrowful, twisted satisfaction.

Go ahead, Mom.

Go see what your daughter has turned into now.