The kidnappers delivered Mallory to the heir of Regensburg’s mafia. Meanwhile, I was locked in a dark, tiny room without food and water for three grueling days. I didn’t even manage to get a wink of sleep during that period.
When we were finally rescued, Mallory’s mental state had deteriorated. Our family had no choice but to send her abroad to recover.
Then, in order to cover up the shocking scandal, the Wallace and Stevens families spent a fortune suppressing the news. The wedding proceeded as planned, with me standing in for Mallory as Ashton’s bride.
While I was lost in thought, the office door suddenly opened, startling me. A rare trace of awkwardness was evident in Ashton’s voice as he invited me back in.
I gripped the doorframe tightly, shaking my head. It was not just about seeing Ashton—I did not want to face Mallory either.
When I was ten years old, I was thrust into the Stevens family. The abrupt change in my identity shattered everything I had known in my first decade of life.
The Stevens family lived in a wealthy neighborhood, in a standalone two-story villa with a large garden and an outdoor swimming pool. I had only ever seen such luxury on television. At the time, I could not fathom that my father was such a wealthy man.
The housekeeper had led me to the garden, where I first saw Mallory. She was swinging gracefully, dressed in a beautiful little dress with her pale, slender legs peeking out. The breeze stirred her silky, flowing hair, making her look enchanting.
I stared at her, utterly captivated.
When Mallory noticed me, she leaped off the swing and walked toward me with elegant poise.
I fidgeted awkwardly as my fingers nervously gripped the seams of my trousers.
She stopped in front of me, examining me carefully, her gaze like an X-ray scanning every inch of me.
I glanced down at my worn-out sneakers and my faded shirt and jeans. Standing before the princess-like Mallory, I wished I could disappear.
“You must be Piper?” she asked.
I nodded hesitantly.
Suddenly, she grabbed my hand. “I’m Mallory, and I’m two years older than you. From now on, you’re my little sister!”
Back then, Mallory treated me like a real sibling. Only her mother, who was my stepmother, disliked me.
I understood why. My mother had been the other woman in the relationship, and my existence was a constant reminder of my father’s betrayal.
Later, my stepmother overdosed on sleeping pills and took her own life. After that, Mallory began to distance herself from me, avoiding me as if it were instinct. I had always felt guilty, as if I owed her something.
“Pip, come in,” Mallory’s ever-sweet voice called out from the office.
Inside, I sat stiffly on the couch while clutching the hem of my dress. Mallory sat beside Ashton, her posture like that of the hostess. Her eyes were red from crying, making her appear even more delicate and vulnerable.
“Pip, your marriage to Ash is a business arrangement. There’s no real love between you two,” she began.
“Now that I’m back—”
“I understand,” I cut her off quickly while lifting my head. “Mal, I’ll file for divorce.”
