The Cavendish family had resisted at first, but their opposition to Carlos marrying outside the family was even stronger. A union with another woman could threaten their interests, so they made their choice.
They restored my surname to Cavendish and sent me to the Davis residence.
Carlos obeyed Evie’s every word, and so, an agreement was forged. I would dedicate myself to raising Stephen and ensuring that Evie could rest in peace. In return, they covered my foster mother’s medical expenses, prolonging her life.
I was dragged to the City Hall for a perfunctory marriage registration, no ring, no vows, no ceremony. Just a signature binding me to a man who would never love me.
Seven years. Seven years of a marriage in name only, with a husband who never saw me and a child who saw me as an enemy.
I spoke evenly, my voice devoid of emotion.
“When I entered the Davis family, it was never for love; it was to save my foster mother. We both got what we wanted. Now that she’s gone, I have no reason to stay.”
I paused, then continued, “Stephen doesn’t like me. If I stay, it will only make him more miserable. That wouldn’t be good for the future heir of the Davis family, not for his emotions, not for his mind.”
Hearing that I had been considering Stephen’s best interests, Carlos’s expression finally eased.
“If you’re worried about having no one to rely on in the future,” he said, his tone almost conciliatory, “I can return your eggs to you, and we can have another child together.”
“Though this child won’t carry my surname when he grows up, I can arrange a position for him in my company. He’ll be well taken care of. And as for you—”
I cut him off, my voice cool.
“There’s no need for such generosity, President Davis.” I pulled out the signed divorce agreement and placed it before him. “Just sign it.”
Over the years, I had endured enough, the whispers, the judgment, the condescending stares, all because of my status and the way both father and son regarded me.
And now, he was offering me the chance to bear another child, one who wouldn’t even be acknowledged by his family. That would be nothing but self-inflicted humiliation.
Carlos’s patience finally snapped. With a sharp tear, he shredded the divorce agreement, his eyes dark with fury.
“Dahlia, it seems you’ve had it too easy. Are you looking for trouble?”
“Since you refuse to wear those dresses, you won’t be attending the banquet tonight either. I won’t have you disgracing the event I organized for Evie.”
A wife barred from her own household’s banquet was a blatant humiliation.
But I felt nothing.
By the time the gathering ended, the mansion was alive with laughter, the distant hum of cheerful voices seeping through the walls.
I stepped into the hallway just in time to see Carlos and Stephen, their hands intertwined with Tessa Cavendish’s, heading toward the bedroom at the far end.
Seven years had passed in the blink of an eye. The once-young daughter of the Cavendish family had grown into a woman—one who bore an uncanny resemblance to Evie.
That room had once belonged only to Carlos and Evie.
I had once entered it by mistake. My punishment? After three days of kneeling in the snow, my legs were nearly ruined.
When I finally collapsed onto my bed, my knees raw and festering, the agony eating away at me, Carlos came.
For a moment, I had foolishly thought he had softened.
But instead, his voice was cold, void of warmth.
“If it hurts, good. Maybe next time, you’ll remember not to step where you don’t belong.”
Now, Tessa, with a face eerily similar to Evie’s, had moved in effortlessly.
The servants barely concealed their disdain, their whispers cutting through the air like knives.
“Some people can struggle all they want to climb into this family, but it’s useless. Neither the president nor the young master cares for her. Imagine being married for years, yet she’s not even allowed to be inside a bedroom in her own home. Pathetic.”
“Of course. The president’s heart has always belonged to his late wife. She was nothing more than a glorified nanny brought in to raise his son. But now that the young lady of the Cavendish family has grown up and looks so much like the late wife, how could he not be swayed? It’s only a matter of time before we have a new lady of the house.”
I ignored their ridicule and turned to leave; a flash of silver streaked toward me.
A sharp sting followed.
The metal dart sliced past my skin, leaving a thin, burning trail. Warm blood trickled down, slow and deliberate.
Stephen toyed with the remaining darts in his hand, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.
