Chapter 1

"Stop. Cut the music!" A woman's loud voice rang out.

Inside the grand ballroom of the Jelasburg Hotel, the romantic wedding march came to an abrupt halt.

I, Charlotte Summers, stood frozen in the middle of the red carpet, clutching the heavy skirt of my wedding dress. The guests were staring at me, not with warm wishes, but with mocking curiosity.

My mother, Margaret Summers, rushed onto the stage. But instead of holding a bouquet to offer her blessings, she was clutching a crumpled property deed.

"Charlotte, don't get married just yet. Sign this document first," she demanded, her sharp voice echoing through the hall over the microphone.

I stared at her, an icy chill washing over me. "Mom," I said, "today is my wedding day."

"Exactly." My brother, Edward Summers, jumped onto the stage right behind her, looking completely unapologetic. "Vivian is marrying Tyler Grant, and he specifically asked for that downtown luxury penthouse. The place is in your name, so you need to sign it over to Vivian."

I trembled with rage. That penthouse was mine. It was the result of countless sleepless nights working and sacrificing everything during college.

Vivian Summers was only their adopted daughter. Yet in this family, she was the golden child, while I was nothing more than a money-making machine.

"That place is my life. I won't give it up," I said, my voice hoarse, forcing out every heavy word.

A loud slap landed hard across my face.

My mom's eyes went wide with disgust. "You ungrateful wretch. Vivian's health is so fragile. If her marriage goes south, can you even make up for it? If you won't hand it over, forget about getting married at all."

Down in the audience, Vivian stood up in her simple white dress, her eyes red and puffy, looking so delicate and pitiful.

"Mom, Edward, please don't blame Charlotte. It's all my fault. I won't get married anymore. Maybe I should just go back to that dark little apartment and die there. Don't ruin Charlotte's special day because of me."

Seeing her cry, Edward looked like his heart was breaking for her. "Vivian, don't cry. She's handing over that house today, whether she likes it or not."

I turned to the man standing beside me, my groom, Michael Tate. We'd been dating for three years, and he knew better than anyone what I'd gone through to get that place.

"Michael, say something," I begged, like grabbing at the last straw.

Michael avoided my eyes. He reached out and gently patted Vivian's back, and then turned to face me. The look he gave me was colder and more contemptuous than anything I'd ever seen from him.

"Come on, it's just a house. Can't you let it go?" Michael said. "Vivian's fragile. She can't take any stress. We can always buy another place later. Do it for me, will you? Just hand the house over to Vivian."

My heart shattered in that moment. "For you? Michael, that house was meant to be our home after we got married."

Michael frowned, his tone full of annoyance. "So what? I don't even care if we live in a tiny place. Why are you making such a fuss?

"The way you're acting is incredibly selfish. All you care about is money, not family. It's honestly ugly."

He never called me ugly when I was working three jobs a day just to pay for his studies abroad. He never said I was ugly when I was exhausting myself at business dinners, drinking with clients until I ran myself into the ground and ended up in the hospital.

I let out a laugh, tears slipping down my cheeks and into my mouth, bitter and salty.

The guests started gossiping and pointing. "Man, Charlotte is so stingy. It's her own sister's wedding. What's so hard about giving her a house?"

"Yeah, look at her throwing a tantrum. She doesn't have even a bit of Vivian's gentle vibe."

"Poor Michael, marrying someone like her is just bad luck."

Vivian kept her head down, a subtle, cold smile appearing at the corner of her lips. That was the unmistakable look of a winner.

I took a deep breath, the rage inside me boiling over. They really thought they could climb over me, bleed me dry, and still expect me to smile and thank them. Not a chance.

I grabbed the scissors from the emcee's table in one swift motion.

"Charlotte, what are you doing? Are you seriously going to get violent?" Edward yelled, stumbling backward in fear.

I ignored him. I grabbed that wedding dress worth a small fortune, the one Michael always claimed was made for me, though I was the one who shelled out for it.

The sharp scissors bit into the fabric, and the pristine lace shredded in my grip.

Vivian let out a startled scream.

I hacked away at the dress until that so-called symbol of happiness was nothing but a pile of rags on the floor. Underneath, my black leggings and the angry red marks from the dress digging into my skin were on full display.

"I'm calling off this wedding." I flung the scissors to the floor, letting them hit with a sharp, ringing clang.

"Charlotte, have you lost your mind?" Michael's face darkened with rage and humiliation. "Apologize right now and sign the papers. Maybe then I'll forgive you for your outrageous behavior."

"Forgive me?" I sneered, grabbing a document envelope from my bridesmaid, my only real friend. I was going to wait until the wedding was over, and if the Summers family showed even a hint of decency, I'd drop the bombshell I had prepared for them.

But looking at them now, it was pointless.

I yanked out five documents and smacked them right across Margaret's face.

"These are the disownment papers. I've already signed them. Edward, Margaret, and you, Vivian, from today on, I'm no longer part of the Summers family. Even if you end up starving, don't expect a single cent from me," I said

Margaret was stunned for a moment, then started stomping and yelling, "You really think you can survive without the Summers family? Is making money all you know how to do? Once you walk out that door, let's see who'll even bother to look at you."

"And you, Michael," I said, my eyes empty as I stared at the man I'd loved for three years. "Everything you've taken, spent, or borrowed from me, 1 million, all counted.

"Tomorrow, you'll get a demand letter at your company. If you can't pay up, get ready for prison."

Michael's face turned deathly pale. "You really kept tabs on all that?"

"When I'm dealing with scum, I gotta count every penny," I shot back.

In front of everyone, I kicked off those crystal heels that had been torturing my feet. Barefoot, I crushed the shredded wedding dress beneath me with every step, making my way toward the exit.