Chapter 1

• They said I was supposed to serve five years.
• I’d only done three.
• Even as the prison gate shut behind me this morning, I kept expecting someone to call me back. A mistake. A mix-up. Something. But it didn’t come.
• Just the cold morning breeze and the words the warden had muttered when he handed me the release papers.
• “Orders from above. That’s all I know.”
• He hadn’t looked me in the eye. None of them ever did.
• I signed the forms, handed over the worn uniform, and went through the same exit procedures as everyone else. But it didn’t feel the same. Nothing did.
• Outside the gates, a black sedan waited. Clean. Shiny. Too polished for this place. A new driver stood beside it… Tall, stiff, expression unreadable. I didn’t recognize him. They must have changed staff. Or maybe the old one had finally gotten tired of ferrying other people’s dirt.
• He opened the back door without saying a word.
• I got in.
• My thoughts swirled as the car pulled onto the main road, the prison fading behind us. The same thoughts I’d buried for three years.
• Why now?
• What could my stepmother possibly want? She was the one who made sure I got locked away to begin with. The one who twisted the story and called it justice.
• Had she finally grown a conscience?
• I almost laughed.
• Unlikely.
• My palms were clammy, despite the cold air blowing from the car vents. I rubbed them against my pants and stared out the window, watching the city roll past like a memory I wasn’t part of anymore.
• I didn’t belong in that prison, and I sure as hell didn’t belong in this car.
• The driver didn’t speak. Neither did I.
• An hour later, we turned down a street I hadn’t seen in years. The Bennett family estate… Huge, old, trimmed to perfection. Exactly the same as I remembered. Neatly sculpted hedges, tall white gates, an over-polished fountain that hadn't worked since I was fifteen.
• The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, and my chest tightened.
• I stepped out slowly.
• The first memory that hit me wasn’t the prison or the courtroom.
• It was my mother.
• She used to stand by the top window, watching the garden while humming under her breath. She died when I was seventeen. They called it an accident. A hit-and-run. I never believed that. Not once.
• But I never got to ask questions either. They buried her and moved on like she was just a chapter they wanted to close.
• And then, three years ago, they dragged me out of this very house. In handcuffs. Accused of embezzling company funds. Funds I never had access to. They’d shoved papers in my face, fake spreadsheets, false signatures… proof of a crime I didn't commit.
• I still remember my father’s face that day. Blank. Cold.
• And my stepmother’s?
• Smirking. Like it was her birthday.
• I clenched my fists and stepped forward.
• The door was already open.
• Inside, nothing had changed. The air smelled the same… Like lemons and expensive furniture polish. Too clean. Too forced.
• I walked into the living room, and there she was. Evelyn Bennett. My stepmother. Sitting on the cream leather couch like she owned the world.
• She barely looked up from her tablet.
• “Well,” she said. “Look who’s back.”
• I didn't sit.
• “I wasn’t supposed to be released yet.”
• She gave a soft, fake laugh. “Clearly, someone thought it was time.”
• “What’s going on?” I asked. “Why now?”
• She finally looked up. Her eyes were sharp. Cold. “Oh, that.”
• Before she could say anything else, footsteps sounded from the hallway.
• Johanna... My stepsister.
• Perfect Johanna.
• Hair curled. Skin glowing. That same stupid charm smile on her face, the one that fooled everyone but me.
• “Well, this is awkward,” she said with a grin, crossing her arms. “ Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
• I didn’t answer her.
• I looked back at Evelyn. “Why did you bring me back?”
• Evelyn stood slowly, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. “You’ll want to sit down for this.”
• “I’d rather stand.”
• She shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ve had... an opportunity come up. A situation that needs someone in your position.”
• “My position?” I echoed.
• Evelyn stood and walked to the bar cart. Poured herself water, none for me. She sipped, then turned.
• “There’s been a development. A chance to fix your reputation. Maybe even restore your standing in this family.”
• I frowned. “What kind of development?”
• She held up a hand. “Let me finish. You remember the Grahams?”
• “Barely.”
• “They’ve come calling. The second son, Ryan, needs a wife. It’s a long-standing contract. One that Johanna was supposed to fulfill.”
• My eyes shot to Johanna, who looked bored now, picking at her nail polish.
• “But their terms changed. They need a bride now. And Johanna… ” Evelyn trailed off with a dismissive glance. “ Wasn’t suitable.”
• I took a step back. “So you pulled me out of prison to marry a stranger?”
• “Don’t be dramatic.”
• “Dramatic?” I snapped. “You framed me, sent me away, and now you’re? What? Offering me a peace offering in the form of a forced marriage?”
• Evelyn set her glass down and walked over. Her heels clicked against the marble.
• “This is not a negotiation, Lucia. This is your one and only chance to clean up your name. To be useful.”
• I laughed bitterly. “Useful to whom? You?”
• “To your father,” she said.
• The room went still.
• I hadn’t seen him. Not even when I arrived.
• “He’s been ill,” Evelyn said casually. “ Collapsed a few months after your arrest. He’s barely conscious most days.”
• My mouth went dry.
• “And the doctors say stress is bad for his heart,” she added. “So imagine how he’d react if you caused another scandal. Like refusing the Grahams’ offer.”
• I blinked at her.
• “You’d let him suffer to protect your pride?” she said, voice low. “After everything you put this family through?”
• “I didn't... ”
• “Save it.”
• She leaned in. Her perfume was strong… Sweet and sharp, like her smile.
• “Refuse this marriage,” she whispered, “and I’ll make sure your father never hears your name again. You’ll be nothing to him. Nothing to us.”
• A small laugh broke the silence.
• Johanna.
• She stood now, arms folded, expression smug.
• “Oh, and by the way,” she said lightly, “ Ryan's practically a ghost. Crippled. So we heard… You probably won’t have to stay married long. He’s already halfway in the grave.”
• She grinned, like it was funny.
• I stared at her. My chest tightened.
• “Think of it as community service,” she added with a shrug. “You do a little time with a dying man and get your freedom in return. Doesn’t sound so bad, right?”
• Evelyn didn’t stop her. She didn’t even blink.
• I looked at both of them… One dripping with cruelty, the other with cold calculation.
• My hands trembled. My jaw clenched.
• I felt cornered all over again.
• Evelyn stepped back, adjusting her ring. “So. What’ll it be?”
• I didn’t speak. I couldn't.
• She moved back to her seat, calm again.
• “You’ll do it,” she said. “Because you don’t have a choice.”
• Again, I didn’t say anything.
• Not because I agreed.
• But because I didn’t know how to fight someone who had already taken everything from me.