Chapter 3

The gala was a sea of black ties and glittering gowns. It was hosted by my estranged father, Senator Fuller, a man whose power was matched only by his coldness. I hadn't spoken to him in years, not since I left the "family business" to live a normal life with Ethan.

I walked in, my head bandaged, my simple dress a stark contrast to the opulence around me. I was here for one reason: to expose Ethan. My father, for all his faults, hated being made a fool of. Ethan's deception, his connection to our family through me, would be his undoing.

I found my father holding court near the grand staircase. Before I could reach him, he tapped a glass for silence. The room quieted.

"Friends, colleagues," he began, his voice booming. "Tonight is a special night. For years, I believed I had only one child. But fate has a funny way of correcting past mistakes. Tonight, I want to introduce you to my true heir, my daughter."

He gestured to the top of the stairs. And there she was. Maria. Dressed in a stunning white gown, looking every bit the princess.

"Through the miracle of modern science," my father continued, "we have confirmed it. I would like you all to welcome Maria Fuller."

Ethan was standing beside her, beaming. He had orchestrated this. He had found a way to not just betray me, but to replace me entirely. A forged DNA test. It was brilliant. It was monstrous.

I pushed through the crowd. "Father, no! It's a lie! She's a fraud!"

My father's face hardened. "Security," he said, his voice like ice. "Remove her."

Two large men grabbed my arms. I struggled, but they were too strong. "She is not your daughter! Ethan is lying to you!"

"Silence her," my father commanded.

One of the guards twisted my arm behind my back. There was a sickening pop, and a wave of white-hot pain shot through my shoulder. My arm was dislocated. I screamed.

Ethan rushed over, not to help me, but to stand with them. "Jocelyn, apologize to your father. Apologize to Maria. You're embarrassing yourself."

Maria descended the stairs, her face a mask of pity. "Oh, Jocelyn. I'm so sorry you're in so much pain."

She stepped in front of me, and under the guise of comforting me, she slapped me. Hard. Then again. And again. Each slap was precise, aimed at the wound on my head, which split open again, sending fresh blood down my face.

"This is for all the years of pain you caused me," she whispered, her voice audible only to me.

Chaos erupted. In the confusion, a man I vaguely recognized-a disgruntled former business associate of my father's-lunged from the crowd. He was shouting about a deal gone bad, a life ruined. In his hand was a gleaming silver letter opener.

He lunged for Maria.

In that split second, I saw everything clearly. Ethan's eyes widened in panic. But he didn't move to protect Maria. He grabbed me by my good arm and yanked me directly in front of her.

He used me as a shield.

The letter opener plunged into my side. The pain was sharp, deep, and final. The world tilted, the glittering lights of the gala blurring into a single, blinding star.

As I fell, the last thing I saw was Ethan's face, his expression not of concern for me, but of relief that Maria was safe.