Chapter 1

I was the child abandoned by my parents during a kidnapping.

Back then, I was seven years old, and my twin brother and sister were ten.

The kidnappers asked for 30 million dollars, and only one of us would get the chance to come back alive.

When the call came to my father, he was swamped with an overseas merger and acquisition deal.

So my mother answered the phone.

That call, which changed my life forever, lasted less than three minutes.

My mother was as calm as if she were negotiating a business deal. "You can't touch the twins. Lucas has a sharp business mind, and Isabella is eloquent. They are the future of my family.

"I can pay the ransom, but I want the twins to return alive."

The kidnappers laughed and said she was greedy, that 30 million dollars was not enough to save all her children's lives.

Without the slightest hesitation, my mother said, "That youngest one has no real ability. You can keep her. We don't have that much money."

Even a choice at such a time was filled with shrewdness and calculation.

What they chose was not a child, but an investment with the highest rate of return.

Later, the police raided the kidnappers' den.

In the chaos, a bullet grazed the knee of my left leg.

From then on, although I survived, I became the only one in the family who couldn't hold up her head, a cripple who limped when she walked.

*****

My name is Luna Ford. 'Luna' stands for the moon, whose beam would light up the world.

Maybe when my parents named me, they wished I could grow up to be the pride of the Ford family, just like Lucas and Isabella.

But after the kidnapping, I became walking proof of their shameful choice. It was a constant reminder they could never escape.

And my name turned into a bitter irony. No one cared about me. I became the Ford family's shame, the part of them they'd rather keep hidden away.

When I stepped through the door that day, I was greeted by a strange, suffocating silence.

Lucas and Isabella were surrounded by nannies and therapists, looking every bit like triumphant heroes. But they weren't hurt. They were just a little shaken up.

My parents held them close, soothing them over and over. "It's okay, babies. It's all behind us now."

Meanwhile, I was carried out of the car by the driver, my leg in a cast. I stood alone in the entryway, like I was a total outsider.

My mom's eyes finally landed on me, but only for three seconds before sliding down to my leg.

There wasn't a hint of pity in her gaze. There was just a cold, calculating look, like she was figuring out if I was still worth anything.

She asked, "What did the doctor say? Will there be a scar? Will she be able to walk?"

She was talking to the driver, not to me.

The driver replied awkwardly, "The doctor said the bullet damaged her tendons and bones. I'm afraid she'll probably have trouble walking from now on."

Those words felt like a verdict, telling everyone that I was now useless.

My dad sighed, walked over, and gave my head a token pat, his voice carrying a hint of weary charity. "You've been through a lot, too. Go to your room and get some rest."

After that day, my left leg became something everyone avoided talking about.

No one ever brought it up, no one asked if I was in pain, and no one bothered to check on me when my face turned pale from aching joints on rainy days.

They always placed me at the front in every family photo, making sure my long skirt covered my legs.

Or sometimes, they'd just crop the photo to show only our upper bodies.

Gradually, in every family photo released to the public, the Ford family was always just four people: loving parents and their flawless twins.

I became the family's hidden shame and the damaged goods they never wanted anyone to see.

Lucas inherited my dad's sharp business mind and social finesse. He always knew how to handle any situation, making him the undisputed heir to Ford Group.

Isabella was a perfect copy of my mom's grace and artistic flair. She started ballet and piano as a kid, quickly becoming the true noble lady of high society.

Their presence was the pride and hope of the Ford family.

And me? I was nothing but the burden they had to carry.

I had a driver to take me to and from school, but my parents never bothered to show up for any of my school meetings.

My grades were nothing special, and they'd always say, "Luna's not very strong, so we don't want to push her. As long as she's happy and healthy, that's all that matters."

That so-called caring line was really just their way of saying, "She's a cripple. We don't expect her to amount to anything."

On my birthday one year ago, Maggie made me a small mango cake.

Isabella breezed through the kitchen, wrinkling her nose with obvious disdain. "Ugh, what's that smell? Maggie, I told you, I'm allergic to mango."

Maggie hurried to clarify, "It's for Luna."

Isabella finally seemed to remember, letting out a careless laugh. "Oh, right, I forgot it's your birthday today."

Her gaze flicked over my leg, barely bothering to hide her disgust.

She sneered, "Seriously, you actually have the guts to celebrate your birthday? Mom and Dad have been mocked behind their backs so many times because of you. What right do you have to celebrate?

"Honestly, you should've just let the kidnappers finish you off back then. Would've spared Mom and Dad a lot of trouble."

With that, Isabella turned and glided away, her movements effortlessly graceful.