“Seriously?” Leandro’s voice cracked like glass, sharp with disbelief. “You agree? That easy? You’ll just let me marry Abby?”
I tilted my head, studying his face—the way his eyes twitched with panic, with desperation he was too proud to admit. Slowly, I laughed—a sound I knew would cut him deeper than any tears.
Because once, in another lifetime, I had believed him.
I remembered the way he had held my hands years ago, whispering promises of forever. He had sworn that no matter what, I would be the only woman for him. That he would fight the world just to keep me by his side.
Back then, I had clung to those words as though they were sacred, the foundation of everything I thought our love stood for.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I said. “Come on, it’s done. My father and your parents already agree. What’s the point of fighting a battle that’s already over?”
His jaw locked, his chest heaving. “No, Victoria, please—don’t say that. So what? You’re just going to run to Brendon instead, is that it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I murmured, brushing past him.
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist with bruising force. His eyes blazed, voice spitting venom. “You bitch. You really don’t love me anymore?”
I turned to him, my voice cold, clipped. “You didn’t love me first.”
For a heartbeat, silence hung between us. He searched my eyes for the girl who used to worship him, who used to hang on his every word. But she was gone. Dead, in fact.
“I don’t want to see you again,” I whispered, pulling my hand free.
His lips curled into a sneer. “You’ll regret this, Victoria. I swear you will.”
I walked away before he could see the tremor in my fingers.
In the hallway, Abby hovered, her doe-like eyes wide with manufactured sorrow. She clasped her hands together as if she were the victim here.
“Victoria,” she whispered, stepping closer. “If you’re mad at me because I’m marrying him… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. But I promise, I’ll take care of him.”
Her words slid into me like a dagger, and for a second, the old me—the weak me—wanted to scream at her, wanted to demand why she always stole everything that mattered. But instead, I smiled faintly. Coldly.
I ignored her.
I turned toward the staircase, ready to descend, to put distance between us before my composure cracked. But just as I placed a foot on the first step, I felt her breath at my ear, a whisper laced with venom.
“I’ll make sure he never sees you again,” Abby hissed. “Because he’s mine.”
My chest tightened, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I laughed lightly, tilting my head so she could see my indifference. “I don’t care. Have him.”
But in the next instant, the sharp sound of a scream tore through the air.
I spun just in time to see Abby tumble down the stairs, her body flailing dramatically before she crashed against the landing. Gasps erupted around us. Servants rushed forward. Abby’s sobs echoed like daggers.
“She pushed me!” Abby wailed, clutching her arm, her face twisted in false agony. “Victoria—she pushed me because she’s mad!”
I froze.
Leandro was the first to appear, storming toward us with fire in his eyes. “What the hell?!” His voice thundered, cutting the air. He looked from Abby’s tear-streaked face to me, and his expression darkened further. “I thought you agreed—you were the one who gave up! And now you pushed her?”
Blood rushed to my ears. “No, I didn’t—”
But my words were drowned out by another shriek.
“Enough!” Lilian’s voice rang out. She rushed down the stairs, her face painted with righteous fury. “You ungrateful brat. To hurt your stepsister, on the eve of such an important day—how dare you?”
“Did you really do this?” My father’s voice cut in, firm, weary. His eyes—once so kind to me—were filled with disappointment.
I opened my mouth, but then I stopped.
What was the point? In my past life, I had begged, screamed, tried to defend myself. And no one had believed me. Not then. Not now.
I remembered Abby clutching her arm, tears spilling down her cheeks as she sobbed that I had pushed her—that the car had swerved because of me. I remembered the way her voice cracked with such perfect fragility, the way she painted herself as the victim. Everyone had believed her. My father. Leandro. Even the servants whispered about my cruelty behind my back.
And me? I had shouted until my throat bled, denying it, pointing out the holes in her story. But the more I fought, the more I looked guilty.
In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Abby had smiled sweetly through her bandages, and I had been branded the jealous, unhinged stepsister.
Now, staring at them again in this lifetime, the bitter truth pressed against my ribs: no one had believed me then, and no one would believe me now.
So I bit down the fury, forced myself still, and let the silence protect me.
My silence was all the answer Lilian needed. She stepped forward, her hand gripping my arm like iron. “You need discipline,” she spat. “And this time, I’ll make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”
“Lilian, wait—” my father started, but she cut him off smoothly.
“You said yourself, she’s become a brat. You regret spoiling her. So let me correct her.”
To my horror, my father nodded, his face twisted with something I couldn’t read. “You’re right. Maybe some punishment will fix her. Keep her locked away until after the wedding. At least she won’t ruin it further.”
“No!” My voice cracked. But Lilian only smiled—a victorious, poisonous smile—as she dragged me down the hall.
Leandro’s parting words were the last dagger to my chest. “Good thing it’s Abby. I know your true colors now, Victoria. Surely Brendon will regret ever thinking of marrying you.”
And then the door slammed shut.
The lock clicked.
Darkness swallowed me.
