Chapter 1 Chapter 1

I've been married to Emit Arnold for three years. It was a shotgun wedding, forced after I woke up in his bed, drugged and confused. On that same day, the woman he truly loved died in a car crash, and I was instantly recast as the villain who had stolen her life.

Now, my adopted sister, Gigi, a hauntingly perfect copy of his dead lover, lives with us. He adores her, while my own children run past me to throw their arms around her instead.

He humiliates me in front of our family, suggesting I'm unstable and need to be sent away "to rest." The final blow came at the annual charity gala. He took the sapphire necklace he once gave me, the last symbol of a love I thought we had, and fastened it around Gigi's neck for the whole world to see.

Watching him gently brush a stray hair from her face, a gesture once reserved only for me, I knew it was over. He wasn't just ignoring our marriage; he was publicly executing it.

That night, I walked out into a raging storm. The next morning, I collapsed on a cold bathroom floor, miscarrying a child I never knew I was carrying. As I cleaned myself up, alone, I felt the last of my love die. My divorce summons was served on Gigi's birthday.

Chapter 1

Doris Navarro walked down the grand staircase, her steps silent on the thick wool runner.

Her gaze was locked on the dining table below.

Emit Arnold sat at the head of the table, his posture a study in rigid control. His attention, however, was entirely on the woman beside him.

Gigi Kelley.

Her adopted sister.

Gigi smiled, her face a hauntingly perfect copy of the late Everleigh Mathews. She placed a slice of mango on Emit's plate.

"Try this, Emit. It's perfectly ripe."

Her voice was soft and sweet, a melody crafted to please.

A muscle in Emit's jaw tightened, a flicker of something so brief Doris might have imagined it. He picked up the fruit and ate it.

A small, seemingly insignificant gesture. But for Doris, it was a blade turning in an old wound. A reminder of her place in this house.

Three years she had been Emit Arnold's wife, a title that felt more like a sentence.

She remembered being a girl, trailing after him in the sprawling gardens of the Arnold estate. He was the golden heir, her fierce protector who promised he'd always keep her safe. He was the sun her whole world orbited.

That world had shattered on her eighteenth birthday. Drugged and confused, she'd woken up in his bed. A pregnancy followed. Then came a marriage, shotgun-style, forced by their families to avoid a scandal.

On their wedding day, Everleigh Mathews-the woman everyone, including Doris, believed was Emit's true love-died in a car crash.

And just like that, Doris was recast from the family friend to the villain of the story. The usurper. In their eyes, the murderer.

Her husband's love turned to a glacial, punishing indifference.

Now, Gigi wore Everleigh's face. And she sat in Everleigh's chair.

Doris reached the bottom of the stairs.

The scent of mango was thick in the air. She felt a familiar tightness in her throat. She was allergic. Everyone in this house knew it.

"Good morning," Doris said, her voice steady.

Emit didn't look at her.

Gigi turned, her smile widening. "Oh, Doris. You're up. Come, have some breakfast. I had the chef prepare a wonderful fruit platter."

She gestured to the centerpiece on the table: a silver bowl overflowing with tropical fruits, dominated by bright yellow mangoes.

"I'm not hungry," Doris said.

"Nonsense," Gigi chirped. "You're too thin. Emit worries about you, don't you, Emit?"

Emit's jaw tightened. He finally turned his gaze on Doris. It was cold. Empty.

"Sit down and eat," he commanded.

It wasn't a request.

Doris's hands, hidden in the folds of her dress, clenched into fists. For years, she had clung to the memory of the boy he used to be, a foolish hope that her patience, her obedience, her unwavering love could somehow melt the glacier in his heart.

She had been a fool.

The twins, Leo and Lena, came running into the room. Her children. They ran straight past her, to Gigi.

"Aunt Gigi!" Leo cried. "Can we go to the stables today?"

"Of course, darling," Gigi cooed, stroking his hair. "After breakfast."

Lena, her daughter, glared at Doris. "Why is she here? I don't want to see her."

The words were a physical blow. Doris flinched. She was their mother, but she was only allowed to see them once a week. The rest of the time, they were with nannies and Gigi, fed a steady diet of stories about their wicked, scheming mother.

Gigi shot Doris a triumphant look.

"Don't be rude, Lena," Gigi said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "She is your mother, after all."

The word was a mockery.

Doris stood frozen. Her hope, that last stubborn ember, finally died. It left behind nothing but cold ash.

She turned to leave.

"I told you to sit down." Emit's voice cut through the air, sharp as glass.

Doris stopped. She didn't turn around.

"I'm going to my room," she said.

"Did you get them?" he asked.

She knew what he meant. The divorce papers. He had presented them to her a week ago. A final, cruel twist of the knife.

She had hidden them. A pathetic, final act of defiance. A refusal to accept the end.

Now, she understood. The end had happened long ago. She was just the last one to realize it.

"I'll get them now," she said, her voice flat.

She walked away. She didn't run. She walked with a calm she didn't feel.

Back in her room, the large, empty space that had been her cage for three years, she retrieved the envelope from its hiding place.

Her fingers were steady as she took out the papers.

His signature was already there. Cold, sharp, and decisive. Just like the man himself.

She stared at the blank line waiting for her name.

This was it. The real end.

And the beginning of her escape.

She would sign them. But not today. Not on his terms.

She needed to hold onto this one small piece of power, for just a little longer.

She hid the papers again.

Then she took out her phone and made a call.

A few rings, then a man's voice. "Doris?"

"Isiah."

It was her brother, the one raised alongside her after Hildur adopted her.

"What is it?" he asked. His tone was, as always, distant.

"I need a favor," she said.

A pause.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need you to have a set of divorce papers drafted. My own set," she said. "And I need a lawyer. A very good one. Someone the Arnolds can't buy."

Silence on the other end of the line. She could picture him, his brow furrowed, wondering what game she was playing.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"Because I'm done," she said, and the words tasted like freedom. "I'm finally, truly done."