Chapter 1

When I was six, the biggest bully in the orphanage accused me of stealing his cookies.

Everyone pointed fingers at me, calling me a thief.

I was mute, so I couldn't say a word to defend myself.

The director threw me into the pitch-black isolation room: no light, no sound, just four walls to "reflect on my crime."

Blade in my fist, I lunged; I meant to pop the bully's eyes like marbles so they could stare up from my palm and finally see the truth.

He was scared out of his mind and finally confessed that he'd set me up because he was worried I'd get picked by some rich folks.

That day, a rich guy showed up at the orphanage looking to adopt.

After hearing the whole story, the guy took one look at me and decided I was the one.

Overnight, I turned into the heiress of the Wilson family.

*****

Eighteen years later, I was thrown in jail for stealing. I served two years inside.

The day I got out, it was snowing like crazy.

I was limping down the street in nothing but a thin summer dress.

Just then, a low-key black luxury car pulled up beside me.

The window rolled down, and I saw a familiar face: Henry White.

He said, "Get in."

His voice was still icy, with that same edge of impatience.

I just kept limping forward, eyes blank, as if he weren't even there.

Henry jumped out, grabbed my wrist, and threw me into the car like I was just some trash.

Maybe he was too strong, or maybe my bones were just too brittle. Either way, my wrist cracked with a sickening snap.

I didn't dare make a sound, biting my lip so hard I nearly drew blood, clutching my broken wrist to my chest.

Henry must've noticed something was off because he frowned, grabbed my wrist, and pulled it out from where I was hiding it.

Pain shot through me, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, my face turning ghostly pale.

Henry scoffed, "Quit acting. You expect me to believe your bones break just from a little touch?"

His impatience hit me like a wall, making it hard to breathe.

I gritted my teeth through the pain, shoved him away, and scrambled out of the car the moment I saw an opening.

But how far could a cripple run? Henry caught me again almost instantly.

When he saw the pain on my face wasn't just an act, he hesitated, then took me to the hospital for a checkup.

The results came back: my wrist was broken, and my bad leg had gone so long without treatment that there was no way I'd ever walk normally again.

After we left the hospital, Henry went quiet for a bit before finally saying, "All you've got is a bum leg. Yara's been crazy for two years and only recently started getting better. When you go back, keep your distance from her."

He didn't say "Don't hurt her," but it was written all over his face.

When I was six, the Wilson family took me in. Their twin daughters had vanished. After six months of fruitless searching, Amy Wilson was drowning in grief. Peter Wilson, desperate to see her smile again, brought home an orphan: me.

When I first arrived at the Wilsons', Amy treated me like I was her own. She knew I couldn't speak because of my messed-up vocal cords, so she scoured the country and even overseas for the best doctors to fix me up.

Back then, I swore that if I ever got to speak, the first word out of my mouth would be "Mom."

Just as I was about to go under for my last surgery, their real daughter, Yara Wilson, came back.

Yara couldn't stand the sight of me and kept trying to throw me out of the Wilson family over and over.

Amy took pity on me, especially after she learned that Yara's twin sister had died. She didn't want to send me back to the orphanage. Instead, she wanted me to stick around to be Yara's companion.

From that moment on, I became Yara's personal scapegoat.

Even so, people kept lecturing me about how I should be grateful. If it weren't for the Wilson family, I'd still be scrambling for scraps in the orphanage, just like a stray dog nobody wanted.

Henry said coldly, "We're here. Get out."

His icy voice snapped me out of my memories.

I looked up and saw Peter and Amy standing at the entrance of the villa.

When Amy saw me, she rushed over, her eyes welling up. She asked, "Why are you so skinny? Didn't you eat properly in there?"

I reflexively pulled away from her hand.

Amy paused, surprised by how I kept my distance.

Back then, I was nothing but a suck-up, desperate for the approval of everyone in the Wilson family.

Just so I wouldn't be tossed out like a stray, I turned myself into their obedient pet.

But all that loyalty got me was being thrown under the bus. When Yara stole some top-secret files, Peter and Amy's first instinct was to make me take the fall for her.

When I refused, they locked me in my room, buying time to cover up every trace of Yara's crime, piece by piece.