Chapter 1

I was the least important daughter of my father. Ever since I was little, I knew I had a strange ability: I could see how much people liked others.

A number floated right above each person's head, clear and impossible to miss.

As for the favorability toward me, my mother was at -20, my sister was at -50, and the servants fell somewhere between 0 and 30. I'd long since stopped caring.

Then one day, I was forced into marrying a prince in my sister's place. People said he was a ruthless man who would kill someone without a second thought.

On our wedding night, I kept my head down and trembled, waiting to get thrown out at any moment.

But then, I noticed a glaring number floating right above his head: 100.

Favorability: 100.

I froze.

Was this the guy everyone claimed hated me so much that he would rather see me dead? His favorability was 100? I couldn't believe it.

He spoke coldly, "Don't think marrying me changes anything. This mansion doesn't keep freeloaders."

Favorability: 100.

He flicked his sleeve and walked away. "Don't show up in front of me unless you absolutely have to."

Favorability: 100.

He left me in the west wing and didn't check on me for three months, but behind my back, he made sure I got the best charcoal, the softest blankets, and the freshest pastries.

Favorability: 100.

I pretended not to notice and played along with him for three years, keeping up the act of the cold-hearted prince and his unloved wife.

Then one day, I saw a number floating above his head when he faced my sister: -50.

But the moment he turned to look at me, that number flickered and shot up past 100.

I decided to stop pretending.

"Do you love me?" I asked him.

His face turned bright red, and the favorability number went wild, blasting right past the maximum.

"You're out of line!" he blurted, flustered.

Favorability: 100+ (overflow).

I couldn't help laughing. "That number above your head totally gave you away."

He was stunned.

For the first time ever, I saw the man who looked cold for three years turn as red as a lobster.

*****

My name was Charlotte Evans, and I was the least favored illegitimate daughter of my father, the Prime Minister.

My mom was a maid who got taken in by my father one drunken night, and she died giving birth to me.

Growing up in Evans Manor, I might as well have been a weed in the yard, left to survive on my own with no one giving a damn whether I lived or died.

Freya, my father's wife, the woman I called Mother, always looked at me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe. Her daughter, Victoria, couldn't hide her contempt for me, either, and the servants didn't bother to hide their indifference.

But I never got confused about who was on my side and who wasn't, and that was because I had a secret.

I could see exactly how much every single person liked the others.

The ability showed up when I was around five years old. The day Freya slapped me, I looked up at her and saw a number floating above her head: -20.

I froze. What the hell?

Over time, I realized everyone had a number floating over them. The higher the number, the more they liked someone, and the lower it went, the more they couldn't stand them.

As for others' favorability toward me? Freya had a -20 up there, which meant she pretty much hated my guts.

Victoria showed a -50, which said she'd be happier if I disappeared off the face of the earth.

Hector, Freya's son, had a 10, which meant he barely noticed me, though he'd say a word or two if he felt like it.

The servants fell somewhere between 0 and 30, so they weren't out to get me, but they weren't exactly rooting for me, either.

The only exception was my nanny, Bella, who had an 85 floating over her head.

She was the one person in the manor who actually gave a damn about me.

Thanks to this weird trick, I managed to survive fifteen years by watching my step.

I knew who to steer clear of, who I could turn to in a pinch, and who'd stab me in the back the second I wasn't looking.

Life was rough, but at least I made it out in one piece.

Then, I turned sixteen.

One day, Victoria came running into the main hall, sobbing her eyes out and swearing she wouldn't marry the guy our father had picked for her.

The guy in question was none other than the so-called cold-hearted prince, Edward Sinclair, the seventh son of the king.

Word on the street was that he was ridiculously good-looking but had a vicious temper and wouldn't think twice about killing someone.

Rumor also had it that he'd already buried two wives, both of whom died within a year of marrying him.

And people said that any servant in his household who made a tiny mistake would get dragged outside and beaten to death.

Victoria was so scared that she had nightmares every single night, and Freya was crying her eyes out like her heart was breaking for her precious daughter.

Father paced around his study for three whole days before he finally made his decision.

"Let Charlotte marry him instead," he said.

When I got called into the study, Freya was still wiping away tears while Victoria hid behind her, throwing me a smug, gloating look.

Father glanced at me and said, "Charlotte, we've raised you all these years. Now it's time for you to pay us back."

I looked up at the number floating above his head: 0.

He couldn't care less about me, so of course, he didn't lose a second of sleep over tossing me straight into the fire.

Freya's -20 dropped to -30, because she was thrilled to see her least favorite person march off to her death.

Victoria's -50 slid to -60, since she was even more delighted now that she wouldn't have to marry Edward.

I lowered my head. "All right, Father. I'll do it."

I didn't have any other choice.

After fifteen years, I'd known that even a dog had a better life than me in that family.

At least a dog could wag its tail and get a little affection from its owner.

But me? I was nothing but a burden waiting to be shipped off.

That night, Bella held me tight and cried until morning.

"My lady, that man is a living nightmare," she sobbed. "How are you going to survive with him?"

I patted her back. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing."

Did I really know?

Honestly, I had no clue.

But maybe that little ability of mine would be my way out.

At the very least, I'd get to see what Edward really thought of me: whether he hated my guts or simply didn't give a damn.

And knowing that was the only way I'd stay alive.