Born in Shadow

1

I was the daughter of a mistress.

People said my mother used cunning tactics to seduce men, branding her a disgrace.

As the daughter of a mistress, I naturally got labeled a disgrace too.

But my disgrace differed from my mother's. She played dirty to chase a wealthy lifestyle, scheming her way up, fishing for rich men.

I was different. I chose to play dirty on purpose.

Maybe some people are born with a knack for it. I not only inherited my mother's beauty but also her sly, manipulative charm-and I surpassed her.

That knack made it effortless for me to snatch what Noreen Anderson wanted.

Noreen was the heiress of Pinewood Group, while I was just a bastard child.

People loved to say, "Like mother, like daughter." On the day I returned to the Anderson family, someone dug up every detail of my identity from the news.

My mother was trash, so I was trash too.

My father only took me in because he had no choice. From the moment I stepped into that house, everyone treated me with contempt.

My outwardly sweet sister, Noreen, hurled the vilest insults at me. Even the kind-faced servants openly mistreated me. Compared to the Anderson kids, I was more like a rat in the gutter.

But people rebel when pushed too far. I wanted payback.

So I made it my mission to take things from Noreen, especially men.

Whenever Noreen saw her childhood sweetheart, Clayton Walton, her face lit up with joy. I'd swoop in, not backing down, cozying up to him and cooing, "Clayton, my dear!"

The second Clayton left, Noreen's face twisted with rage. She'd slap me, yank my hair, and hiss, "You, born from a mistress, think you can show off in front of Clayton? I spit on you! Look at what you are!"

My face stung until it went numb. I touched it lightly, keeping my smile bright and fearless. "Noreen, if you can see Clayton, why can't I? Don't forget, we share the same last name!"

I watched her lose it, her eyes red with hatred. Moments like that thrilled me.

Sometimes, alone, I reflected on life. We shared the same father, so why was our treatment so different?

Was it because her mother came from a wealthy, pampered family, while mine was just a shameful mistress?

Was that why she was treated like treasure and I like dirt? Even the name my father gave her, Noreen, meant splendor and prosperity, a bright future.

I was born in the fading light of a dying afternoon.

My mother didn't care for me, so she gave me a careless name.

2

I was good-looking-not bragging, just something I saw in people's eyes. They wanted me.

As I grew older, my face became even more captivating. Every time Noreen saw me, her eyes burned with obvious jealousy.

She called me names like tramp and slut, her vile words too harsh to repeat. I was born from a despised mistress, so I carried that stigma. I swallowed my pain and endured her.

But my face, loved by so many, became Noreen's obsession.

I overheard from a friend, Sarah, about a gala at Golden Bay happening that night.

The Anderson family was old nobility, still a respected name nationwide. As their illegitimate daughter, I was the only one left out of the gala's guest list.

I refused to accept it. That night, I secretly followed them.

The moment I entered the banquet hall, I spotted Noreen laughing and flirting with a man, tossing him coy looks. I smirked with bad intentions and headed straight for them.

In my rush, I crashed into a solid chest. Rubbing my dizzy head, I looked up to see Clayton.

His sharp brows furrowed as he glared down at me. "Olivia, why are you running around like that? Look at what you're wearing. This isn't a place for you to just show up!"

I glanced down at my white shirt and jeans, plain and casual. Was he saying I looked cheap?

I wanted to snap back, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Noreen staring at me.

Her eyes widened, her lips puffed out like a pufferfish, and she looked furious, her gaze practically spitting fire.

I knew she'd come for me.

Thinking fast, I stopped myself from pushing Clayton away. Instead, I leaned into him, acting soft and coy, flirting just enough to tease.

My moves looked intimate, but I kept my hands and feet proper, always maintaining a small distance.

I played dirty openly, but Noreen was different. She wanted to play the saint while acting otherwise.

Everyone knew Noreen and Clayton were engaged. Now, with her fiancé tangled up with me, her reputation sank to the bottom of the ocean.

"Olivia!" Sure enough, she stormed over in her heels, face full of rage. "What are you doing?!"

"Olivia, stop this nonsense!" Clayton was angry too. He called security and pointed at me. "Take her back to the Anderson house."

I laughed inside.

Nonsense? His fiancée has been flirting with another man since she walked in, and he didn't see it?

Yet he still protect Noreen like that. Such deep devotion.

3

I got dragged out of the gala by Noreen's bodyguards, and plenty of people saw it.

I brought shame to the Anderson family.

When I got back, I took a beating. My father, who always prided himself on being noble, hit me with a ferocity I'd never seen.

Before I passed out, his eyes burned with blatant disgust, the same look he gave my mother-no trace of love, only contempt.

I never knew a father's love. Even this brutal beating only stopped because my stepmother, playing the good guy, stepped in.

She feared a death would cause a scandal. In this lawful society, a dead illegitimate Anderson daughter would hit the news and tarnish the family's name.

I owed her thanks, truly. Without her, I might not have survived.

At night, I lay in bed, wincing in pain. They knew my injuries were bad, so they didn't dare send me to a hospital. Instead, they had the grumpy Sarah rub some ointment on me.

In the darkness, I heard a noise at the door. I knew it was Ian Mitchell.

"Olivia." He came to my bedside, his phone's light casting a soft glow. His voice carried a quiet sorrow as he said my name.

"Why are you sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?" I turned my head away, avoiding his gaze, but couldn't stop the tears.

He was the Anderson family's adopted son, their charity poster child.

Nobody knew we'd known each other long before he came to the Andersons.

More than that, we grew up together, childhood friends. He told me years ago he liked me.

Ian was leaving the country soon. To make a big show of it, the Andersons let him move in three days ago, calling it a "personal send-off." By then, the news would probably be singing the family's praises again.

"Does it hurt a lot?" He crouched by my bed, his hand gently brushing my head.

"Don't touch me," I swatted his hand away and bit my lip. "Who said you could just barge into my room?"

"Silly girl, don't cry, okay?" His voice dripped with pain as he turned my head to wipe my tears, almost choking up. "It's my fault. I'm useless. If I could give you a better future, you wouldn't have to suffer in this house..."

I stayed silent.

"When I graduate!" His low voice held firm resolve. "It won't be long, Olivia. I'll get a good job, earn money, and marry you. I'll take you away from here!"

"Who said I'd marry you?" I snapped, my face hardening. "You're just the Andersons' adopted son. What makes you think you're good enough for me?

Even with my bad reputation, I wouldn't stoop to someone like you. Do you really not get it, or are you pretending?

Your job is to use the Andersons' name to get out of here. Their charity facade can work with anyone."

Ian got worked up, looking hurt, but he still took my hand and placed something in my palm. I looked down-it was a jade pendant, his mother's heirloom.

Staring at it, the pain from my beating flared worse. I broke down, sobbing into the bed. "What's this junk supposed to do? Is it worth more than what the Andersons give me?

My dad throws money at me. Noreen's castoff clothes are worth tens of thousands! What can you provide? What can you provide!"

My voice grew louder, tears streaming, my heart full of resentment.

"Olivia," Ian gently held me, stopping me from moving and hurting my wounds. He knew I didn't mean it, knew how hard life was for me in this house.

He crouched down, his voice soft like he was soothing a child. "Don't be scared. This will all pass. Just wait a little. Once I graduate and get a job, I'll come for you right away! This suffering is temporary. I know you don't think much of me, but promise me you won't get hurt. It breaks my heart."

I looked at him and laughed, my face full of mockery. I took the jade pendant, my tone dripping with disdain. "Fine, I'll wait for you. But you know my personality-I won't wait long."

Deep down, I felt a flicker of hope for his promise. But hope usually existed to be crushed, and I was no exception.

In my rootless life, the only kindness I had left was to push him away, let him use the Andersons to soar higher and farther.

4

I stayed in bed for weeks, my injuries slowly healing.

On a sunny day, I sat in the villa's garden, soaking up the light. White curtains fluttered in the breeze, warm sunlight spilled around, and two butterflies danced among the flowers, free and carefree. I watched, entranced, when a shadow loomed behind me.

It was Toby Foster.

He lunged, grabbing my wrist, his face so close I could feel his breath. His words were vile. "I sent you hotel locations so many times, and you ignored me. So I'll just take matters into my own hands. Don't worry, stick with me, and you'll live well."

"Toby, what are you doing? There are cameras here! Assault is a crime!" As his bulky frame closed in, a chilling sense of danger hit me.

"Doing? I'm going to have you!" Toby shoved me to the ground, his rough hands tearing at my clothes. "Crime? Go ahead and report me. The Fosters have enough connections to bury this!"

This was the Anderson family's garden, and Toby's brazen attack had to have their silent approval.

I knew my words were useless. From the first time he came to the house with his father, I saw his intentions.

He was ugly, not my type, so I avoided him. But I never imagined my own father would sell me out.

The Fosters offered a massive deal-seven hundred million-for me to be Toby's mistress.