Chapter 1

Four years after Alanna Robertson, a wealthy heiress, was kidnapped, she miraculously returned home, only to find her fiancé, Cameron Stewart, and brother, Anderson Robertson, completely under the spell of her adoptive sister, Bailey Kent.

She tried to expose the truth, but they dismissed her claims as trauma-induced delusions. Instead of finding comfort, Alanna was slapped, pushed down stairs, falsely accused, and humiliated.

Her own family, the people she loved most, betrayed her. They sided with Bailey, believing her every lie, and even sent Alanna back to the very human trafficking compound where she had been held captive for years. There, she endured unimaginable torture once more.

Why were they so blind? How could they be so easily manipulated by Bailey's sweet facade? Why did the people who claimed to love her punish her for telling the truth?

In her darkest hour, Alanna found a hidden camera in her mother's locket. She meticulously recorded every act of betrayal and every moment of her renewed nightmare. Then, with a final, desperate act of defiance, she set the compound ablaze and leaped from a cliff, using her own life as the ultimate proof. She left them with a ticking time bomb of truth, forcing them to confront their monstrous mistakes.

Chapter 1

The mud was cold and thick, clinging to Alanna Robertson' s skin through the rips in her thin dress. Four years. Four years of being a ghost, a piece of property traded in the dark. Now, freedom was a lungful of damp, earthy air and the frantic, painful rhythm of her own bare feet on the forest floor. She didn't look back. She couldn' t.

She stumbled onto a paved road just as dawn broke, flagging down the first car she saw. The driver, a kind-faced older woman, gasped at the sight of her but didn't hesitate to help.

At the police station, the fluorescent lights were a shock after years of dim rooms. An officer gently wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She gave them her name. Alanna Robertson. The name felt foreign on her tongue, a relic from another life.

The world outside erupted. The news of the missing Robertson heiress being found alive spread like wildfire.

Hours later, the door to the small interview room burst open.

"Alanna!"

Cameron Stewart, her fiancé, rushed in, his powerful frame filling the doorway. His usually perfect suit was rumpled, his face etched with exhaustion and disbelief. Close behind him was her older brother, Anderson Robertson, his sharp, handsome features pale with shock.

They had been her world. The two men she loved most.

Cameron pulled her into a fierce hug, his body trembling. "You're alive. God, you're alive."

Anderson knelt before her, his voice thick with emotion. "Lanna, we never stopped looking. Not for a day."

Tears streamed down Alanna's face, hot drops of relief. She was safe. She was home. "They took me," she whispered, her voice raw. "It was a compound, a whole village. They traffic people."

She was ready to tell them everything, to bring the monsters who held her captive to justice. She started to give the officer the details, the location, the names she' d overheard.

But Cameron placed a hand on her arm, his grip firm. "Honey, slow down. Let's get you out of here first. You're safe now. We can handle this privately."

Anderson nodded, his expression shifting from relief to a strained sort of concern. "He's right, Lanna. You've been through enough. Let our people take care of it. No need to involve... all this." He gestured vaguely at the police station.

A cold prickle of confusion went through her. "No. They need to be arrested. All of them."

Just then, a soft voice came from the doorway. "Cameron? Anderson? Is she okay?"

Bailey Kent stood there, her large, innocent eyes wide with worry. She looked like a fragile doll in her simple white dress, her hands clasped nervously. Bailey, the orphan their family had sponsored, the girl they had taken in, who had become her adoptive sister.

"I'm so glad you're back, Alanna," Bailey said, her voice trembling. "We were all so worried."

The sound of that sweet, lilting voice hit Alanna like a physical blow. A memory, sharp and brutal, flashed through her mind. A dark room. The click of a heavy lock. A guard' s casual comment.

"Don' t worry, the boss' s sister said to treat you well. Bailey wants you kept in good condition."

The voice on the phone, giving instructions. Bailey' s voice.

Alanna' s blood ran cold. The air left her lungs. Her hand shot out, her finger trembling as she pointed at the girl in the doorway.

"It was you."

The room went silent.

"Her," Alanna gasped, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I heard her voice. She... she was the one."

Cameron' s face hardened. Anderson' s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Alanna, what are you talking about?" Cameron' s tone was no longer gentle. It was sharp, impatient.

Bailey' s eyes filled with tears. She shrank back, looking terrified. "I don't understand. Alanna, what did I do?"

"You're lying!" Alanna screamed, the sound tearing from her throat. "She orchestrated it! She' s the mastermind!"

"That's enough!" Anderson snapped, his voice a whip crack. He stood up, his protective stance now directed at Bailey. "Alanna, you've been through a horrific trauma. You're not thinking clearly."

"I am clear!" she insisted, her desperation mounting. She clutched a small, grimy piece of fabric in her hand-torn from the clothes of one of her captors during her escape. "This! This was from one of the men. It has their scent, their filth on it."

She held it out, a piece of tangible proof from her nightmare.

Anderson took it from her. His expression was pained, as if looking at her was causing him physical discomfort. He glanced at it, then at Bailey' s tear-streaked face. Without a word, he walked over to a small trash can in the corner and dropped the fabric inside.

Alanna stared, her heart stopping. "What did you do?"

"We' re withdrawing the report," Cameron said, his voice flat and cold. He turned to the bewildered officer. "We' re taking her home. This is a family matter. It was a mistake to come here."

The officer looked from Cameron' s steely face to Alanna' s horrified one, and finally just nodded, outmatched by the power in the room.

"No," Alanna whispered, shaking her head. The betrayal was a chasm opening at her feet. "You can't."

"We can," Anderson said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He looked at her, his eyes full of disappointment. "Look at you. You' re not the same. You come back and you attack the one person who held this family together while you were gone."

Alanna' s gaze shifted from her brother' s cold face to her fiancé' s impatient one. They weren' t looking at a survivor. They were looking at a problem. A disruption.

A bitter resolve hardened in her chest. The tears stopped. The shaking subsided, replaced by an icy calm.

"I will not withdraw the report," she said, her voice low but steady. "And I will make you pay. All of you."

They looked at her as if she were a stranger. Maybe she was. The pampered heiress they remembered was dead, buried somewhere in that compound.

Four years. She'd been sold and returned multiple times. "Too damaged," one buyer had complained, his words echoing in her memory. Each time she was sent back, the punishment was worse. They broke her bones, starved her, left her in a lightless box for days. The pain was a constant companion.

But this pain, the one blooming in her chest now, was a thousand times worse.

Her gaze burned into Bailey, who was now being comforted in Anderson' s arms. Then it moved to Cameron, who looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"Alanna, don't be ridiculous," Cameron said, his voice tight with frustration. "Bailey has done nothing but care for us. She searched for you, she prayed for you. You owe her an apology."

"I owe her nothing," Alanna bit out, the words tasting like acid.

"Stop acting like a child!" Anderson' s voice was harsh. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into the bone. "You disappeared for four years, and this is how you return? By making wild accusations and hurting the people who love you?"

The grip on her arm sent a jolt of pain through her, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. Tears welled up again, this time of rage and heartbreak. "She's the one who hurt me! Are you blind?"

Anderson shoved her away. "Grow up, Alanna."

She staggered back, her hip hitting the cold metal edge of the table. A child? She had survived horrors he couldn't even imagine. She had clawed her way back from hell, only to find that her saviors were her new jailers.

The absurdity of it all was suffocating. She was the victim, yet here she was, being punished. Her fight for justice was being dismissed as a trauma-induced fantasy.

A broken, painful smile touched her lips. "Okay," she whispered.

Cameron's expression softened slightly at her apparent surrender. "Alanna..."

"It' s okay, Cameron," Bailey said, stepping forward. Her voice was gentle, a soothing balm of poison. She gently took his hand. "She's been through so much. She just needs time. Let' s take her home."

The casual intimacy of the gesture-Bailey' s hand in Cameron' s-was a fresh wound. Before, Cameron had strict boundaries with other women. He barely tolerated friendly hugs. Now, he was letting Bailey cling to him, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a comforting gesture.

The sight cleared Alanna' s mind. Whatever happened next, Bailey was the enemy. And this trafficking ring, whether Bailey was part of it or just a client, had to be destroyed.

But she was smart enough to know she couldn't fight them now. Not like this. They held all the power, and they believed Bailey' s lies. She had no proof.

"Fine," Alanna said, her voice devoid of emotion. "I'll drop it."

The drive back to the Robertson estate was suffocatingly silent. Alanna sat in the back of Cameron' s Bentley, the familiar scent of leather and his subtle cologne a painful reminder of a life that no longer existed. He used to fly in her favorite chefs from across the country just to cook her a single meal. He' d cancelled million-dollar deals to sit by her bedside when she had a simple cold. He had proposed to her on a yacht under a sky full of fireworks, promising her the world.

She had been the center of their universe. Now, she was an inconvenience.

The new and old scars on her body throbbed, a brutal map of her reality.

Up front, Anderson and Bailey spoke in low, comforting tones. Their presence filled the car, leaving Alanna feeling like an intruder in her own life.

The moment the car stopped in the grand driveway, Alanna pushed the door open, desperate for air. She hurried inside, needing the familiarity of her own room.

But when she opened the door to her suite, she stopped dead. It wasn't her room anymore. The soft pastel colors were gone, replaced by a minimalist, cold gray. The furniture was different. A man' s cologne hung in the air. Anderson' s. And on the nightstand was a picture of Anderson and Bailey, smiling together.

Cameron came up behind her. "Oh. Anderson moved in here after... well, we can clear out a guest room for you."

"I can move my things to the storage room," Bailey said, her voice a perfect blend of sweetness and martyrdom. "Alanna can have my room. My things are still in there, but it shouldn't be a problem."

Cameron looked surprised. "Your room?"

Bailey smiled sadly. "Anderson and I put her things in there for safekeeping."

"No," Anderson said firmly from the doorway. He looked at Bailey with an expression of deep affection. "That is your room, Bailey. It will always be your room."

He then turned to Alanna, his tone patronizing. "You can stay in the guest room for now. Bailey is leaving for London soon for university. You can have her room then. It's just for a little while."

Alanna saw the flash of triumph in Bailey's eyes before it was hidden behind a mask of sympathy.

She met Anderson's gaze, her own eyes empty. He hesitated, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, before looking away.

"The storage room is fine," Alanna said, her voice flat. She just wanted to be alone. She wanted to find a corner of this house that still felt like hers.

"See? She understands," Cameron said, relieved.

Alanna turned and walked towards the end of the hall, to the room where they stored old furniture and forgotten things. She shut the door behind her without a backward glance.

The room was cluttered and dusty. Boxes were piled high. Her entire life, packed away.

Her eyes landed on a laptop case sitting on a stack of boxes. Her old laptop. With trembling hands, she opened it.