Chapter 3

I survived that day only because my spineless father managed to hold Mom back. He said, "Claire's here. Don't scare her."

After that, everything else was a blur.

But I did remember that after that day, the furious Grandpa took me away to live with him.

When he spoke, no one dared argue, not even my mother.

Where she saw a cold-blooded monster, Grandpa and the doctors recognized something else entirely.

"Genius," they called me. Not a monster or a lunatic—just a brilliant mind with a condition named after some long-dead prodigy.

Grandpa, who was always severe, pulled me into his arms, his voice quieter than I'd ever heard it. "Helena, you'll get better. We won't rush you."

They were right. With time and proper guidance, I outgrew that withdrawn, lonely child.

But my passion and gift for numbers never faded, even as I got better.

If anything, it sharpened. Grandpa began calling me "the Sterling family's fated genius".

And soon I was topping every class, mastering complex financial concepts with eerie ease. Grandpa made me his heiress.

The other branches of the family didn't dare question Grandpa's decision, but my mom had objections.

By then I wasn't the confused little girl who'd believed her lies.

I recognized her favoritism and hate for what it was.

She'd order me over and over to give in to Claire, saying it was all my fault that Claire was being mocked.

She'd hiss, "Everyone compares her to you! Do you even care what you're putting her through?"

There it was. To someone who resented me, even success becomes a weapon.

I'd expected my mother's resistance.

I didn't even feel that sad about it anymore—not like when I was a kid.

"If Helena doesn't take my position, it goes to another branch of the family," Grandpa said and shut her down.

My mom was the type who was completely blinded by love. Back then, she almost cut ties with Grandpa just to marry my dad.

Without me in the picture, he would have gladly handed everything to other branches.

That silenced my mom.

No matter how much she hated me, she still knew deep down that her own daughter wasn't like everyone else.

Only with me as the heiress could she and her precious little baby keep clinging to me and bleeding me dry.

Maybe it was all those comparisons that festered in Claire's heart until even she didn't recognize her own bitterness.

She'd perfected the art of playing the wounded saint, expecting the world to drop everything into her lap.

Even when she stole from me, she'd spin it as some noble cause.

She never admitted her malice toward me. In her version of things, everything was just something others willingly gave her.

Like this time, her excuse was "true love."

For the sake of this so-called "true love," our mother would gladly burn the world down for her.

The woman who supposedly birthed me looked down her nose like I was some inconvenient stranger.

They were both waiting for my usual surrender.

I dropped my gaze. "He's just an ordinary man. If Claire wants him, she can have him."

Fine. I would let them have this petty victory if it kept them off my back.

Seeing how "reasonable" I was, my mom gave me a patronizing little smile.

To her, the whole thing was over, and at long last, she allowed me to leave.

But Claire still didn't look the least bit pleased.

The whole point of stealing my things was watching me break.

And my indifference had robbed her of that sweet satisfaction.

So, just as I was about to turn the doorknob, a soft, whimpering sob came from behind me.

Claire cried, "Helena, you're just leaving? Aren't you even going to say anything? You're mad at me? Please just forgive me."

What exactly did she want?

A congratulatory speech? Should I throw rice at their disgusting little affair?

I turned back to look at my "family".

Mom shot me a look, clearly telling me to go comfort Claire. Dad just looked irritated, but of course, he didn't dare say a thing.

"Claire, you don't have to keep going on about your 'true love.' If you want to marry him, then just do it. Honestly, this arranged marriage was never my problem to begin with," I said.

She never seemed to get it—unlike her, I didn't have to grovel for a man's approval. As the Sterling heiress, I never needed to.