"I still remember my promise. As soon as Wanda recovers from her depression, I'll marry you."
Sean's voice was steady, almost clinical, as if the promise was a matter of duty rather than love. He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting mine briefly before looking away. "She's your little sister, so be more understanding of her."
I didn't respond. Instead, I lowered my gaze to the intricate Persian rug beneath my feet, tracing its swirling patterns with my eyes. The words should have made my heart race with joy, as they once would have. Instead, I felt nothing. My love for Sean had died the day he betrayed me, its ashes cold and irretrievable.
Once, I had been cherished. My parents adored me, showering me with attention as the heiress of the Johnson Family—respected, admired and envied throughout Arlington. My word was law in our household. Yet, for Sean, I had thrown it all away.
I still remembered the first time I saw him. He was just a boy then, standing awkwardly in our grand foyer. His school uniform was too big, the fabric faded from countless washes. He had shifted uncomfortably under the weight of my father's kind words, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. But it was his eyes that caught me—clear, determined and defiant despite his obvious discomfort.
From that moment, Sean became the center of my world. I ignored the whispers about his background, the disapproving looks from my friends and the silent disapproval of my extended family. For him, I learned to bake desserts and pack lunchboxes, small gestures that made my sheltered heart flutter. I ran errands, enduring his quiet indifference, convinced that my persistence would one day win him over.
But my devotion became my undoing.
By the time Sean graduated university, he had risen to prominence as one of Arlington's top lawyers. His name was synonymous with success, his face gracing magazine covers as the city's undefeated legal prodigy. At the same time, the Johnson Family began to crumble under the weight of financial scandals and relentless competitors.
The day Sean celebrated his 100th case win, my parents—unable to bear the mounting pressure—finalized my paperwork to study abroad. That same night, they jumped from the rooftop of their office building, hand in hand.
I should have left Arlington then, but fate had other plans. Wanda, my foster sister, had gotten into trouble. She had driven drunk and hit someone, leaving the victim's family inconsolable. Sean had stepped in, but even his formidable skills couldn't secure her freedom. A five-year prison sentence loomed.
I was at the airport, one foot on the threshold of a new life, when Sean stopped me. His expression was unreadable as he informed me of his plan.
The memory of that night still burned.
He had locked me in his house, his once soft-spoken demeanor replaced by icy resolve. I screamed, raged and begged for an explanation.
"Sean, where is your conscience? My family raised you, gave you everything! How could you repay me like this?"
He stood calmly as I hurled accusations, his face impassive. "It's only five years, Natalie," he said evenly, as though that justified everything. "Wanda once saved my life. I can't abandon her."
Something inside me snapped. I charged forward, slapping him with all my strength. The sound of it echoed in the room, the bright red imprint of my hand standing stark against his pale skin.
"The person who saved you that day in the sea wasn't Wanda—it was me!" I cried, my voice breaking.
His hand rose to his cheek, his expression darkening as he stared at me, his gaze now cold and distant. "Enough!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a whip. "Haven't you caused enough trouble, Natalie? Now you're even trying to steal Wanda's credit?"
He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. His eyes, once a source of comfort, now felt suffocating. "You're lying," he spat. "You've been afraid of water since you were a child. How could you have saved me?"
I trembled, my hands balled into fists at my sides. "Sean, you—"
But he didn't let me finish. "No matter what, you'll take the fall for Wanda," he said with finality. His voice was devoid of warmth, as though he were delivering a verdict in court.
"She only went to that bar because of you! She was harassed and nearly assaulted there!"
With that, he turned and slammed the door shut, leaving me alone with my despair.
The next day, I was sent to prison.
I didn't know what to expect inside those walls, but the cruelty of the inmates shattered any illusions I might have held. On my very first day, they dragged me into a corner, yanking out chunks of my hair and slapping me until my face was slick with blood.
I tried to fight back, my pride refusing to let me crumble, but my resistance only fueled their rage. Each blow was a reminder of my powerlessness, each insult a dagger to my soul. Eventually, I learned to endure in silence.
For five years, I lived in fear, my body and spirit battered. The Natalie Johnson who had once ruled her world with a confident smile had been stripped away, leaving behind someone I barely recognized.
