Chapter 1

For years, the Miller family' s mansion was my sanctuary. Richard, my adoptive father, had given me a sprawling studio on the top floor with a view of the entire city. It was my favorite place in the world. He and my adoptive brother, Ethan, had been the center of my universe. They showered me with love, supported my art, and made me feel like I truly belonged. The first eighteen years of my life were a dream.

Then Tiffany arrived.

She was Richard' s biological daughter, from a marriage long before he met my mother and adopted me. I knew her existence was a complicated part of Richard' s past, but I was determined to welcome her, to be the sister she never had.

The dream shattered almost overnight.

"Chloe, this is for you," Richard said one evening, his voice softer than usual. He handed me a small, velvet box. Inside was a delicate paintbrush, its handle inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It was an antique, something I' d admired in a gallery window for months.

"Thank you, Dad," I whispered, my heart swelling with warmth.

Just then, a single, perfect tear rolled down Tiffany' s cheek. "It' s beautiful," she said, her voice trembling. "It' s just... it reminds me of the one my mother had. Before she... before she left."

Instantly, the warmth in the room vanished. Richard' s face clouded with guilt. Ethan, who had been smiling at me, rushed to Tiffany' s side.

"Tiff, don' t cry," Ethan said, wrapping an arm around her. He shot me a look, not of anger, but of frustration. "Chloe, maybe you should put that away for now."

Richard cleared his throat. "Yes, perhaps another time." He took the box from my hands and set it aside, his eyes never leaving Tiffany' s sobbing form.

I stood there, holding nothing, my heart turning to a cold, heavy stone in my chest. It was the first time, but it would not be the last. That was how it always started. One tear from Tiffany, and I became the villain.

A few months later, the Miller Corporation was in trouble. A rival company was planning a hostile takeover, and Richard was desperate. The solution came in the form of a proposal, a cruel echo of a bygone era. We would merge with our rival, but the deal was conditional. I had to marry the rival' s son. A business transaction with me as the commodity.

When Richard told me, his eyes wouldn' t meet mine. Ethan stood beside him, his jaw tight. "It' s the only way to save the family, Chloe," Ethan said, his voice flat.

They looked pained, but not for me. They were pained for the company, for the name, for the legacy. I was just a necessary sacrifice. After they left my room, I heard their heavy sighs in the hallway, sighs of regret that they had to resort to this, but not once did they come back to see if I was okay.

I fled to the only place I still felt safe: my Uncle David' s art gallery. He was Richard' s younger brother, but he was nothing like him. David looked at the world and saw beauty; Richard only saw bottom lines.

"He' s doing what?" David' s voice was low and dangerous when I told him. His kind face was contorted with anger.

"I have to do it, Uncle David," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "It' s the last thing I can do for the family that raised me."

He pulled me into a hug, his arms a fortress of warmth and safety. "This isn' t your burden to bear, Chloe. You can walk away. You can come stay with me. I' ll support you. Your art..."

"No," I said, pulling back. "I' ve made my decision." I saw the understanding in his eyes, the deep sadness for what I was losing. He knew I wasn' t just losing my freedom; I was giving up the last bit of hope I had for the family I once loved. He nodded slowly, promising that his door would always be open, no matter what.

That night, I was walking down the grand staircase of the Miller mansion. Tiffany was standing at the bottom, admiring a crystal vase. She saw me and smiled, a sweet, poisonous expression. "I heard the news," she purred. "Don' t worry. I' ll take good care of Daddy and Ethan for you."

I ignored her and continued down the stairs. As I passed, she let out a small shriek and stumbled backward, letting the vase slip from her hands. It shattered on the marble floor. But her stumble was perfectly aimed. Her body pushed against mine, and I lost my footing on the last few steps. A sharp, searing pain shot through my ankle as I landed awkwardly, collapsing to the floor.

Richard and Ethan came running at the sound of the crash. Their eyes went straight to Tiffany, who was already crying, pointing a shaking finger at me.

"Chloe, she pushed me! She said I was taking her place!" Tiffany wailed.

"Tiffany, are you hurt?" Ethan was kneeling beside her instantly, checking her for imaginary injuries.

Richard loomed over me, his face a mask of cold fury. "Chloe, what is wrong with you? Your jealousy is going to destroy this family!"

I stared up at them from the floor, my ankle throbbing with a white-hot agony. But it was nothing compared to the icy despair that washed over me. They didn' t even glance at my twisted ankle. They didn' t see my pain. They only saw Tiffany' s tears.

In that moment, something inside me broke for good. I was done. I was done trying. This marriage wasn' t a sacrifice anymore. It was an escape.