Chapter 2

The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of the Spencer mansion's library, casting long shadows across the mahogany table where our family's fate would be decided. I sat in the corner chair—the one that had always been mine during family meetings, positioned just far enough from the main table to remind everyone of my place in the hierarchy.

Mr. Whitmore, our family lawyer, arrived precisely at nine o'clock, his silver briefcase gleaming under the chandelier's light. He was a thin, precise man who had served the Spencer family for over three decades, his wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he shuffled through official documents.

"Thank you all for gathering," he said, his voice carrying the weight of formality. "We're here for the reading of Edward Spencer's last will and testament."

Rose sat directly across from Father at the main table, her posture perfect, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. She wore a cream-colored dress that made her look like an angel—fitting, considering she was about to inherit heaven. Mother flanked Father's right side, her expression serene, as if she already knew what was coming.

I pressed my back against the leather chair, trying to make myself smaller, invisible. The familiar ache of anticipation mixed with dread settled in my chest.

Mr. Whitmore cleared his throat. "To my beloved granddaughter Rose Spencer, I leave eighty percent of my estate, including all holdings in Spencer Industries, the family mansion, and the majority of liquid assets totaling approximately two hundred million dollars."

Rose's smile could have powered the entire city. She clasped her hands together, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. "Oh, Grandfather," she whispered. "I'll make you so proud."

Mother reached over to squeeze Rose's hand. "He already was, darling."

My throat tightened as I waited for my name. Surely there would be something, some small acknowledgment of my existence.

"To my granddaughter Lily Spencer," Mr. Whitmore continued, and my heart leaped with desperate hope, "I leave the cottage property at 1247 Meadowbrook Lane, including all furnishings and the surrounding two acres."

The silence that followed was deafening. Rose's perfectly manicured eyebrows shot up in surprise, then quickly settled into smug satisfaction.

"That old place?" Mother's voice dripped with disdain. "It's been abandoned for years. The roof probably leaks, and God knows what condition the plumbing is in."

Father's face darkened like a storm cloud. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor with a harsh screech that made me flinch.

"This is ridiculous," he declared, his voice echoing off the library's vaulted ceiling. "Lily doesn't deserve the Spencer name, let alone any inheritance."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the arms of my chair, my knuckles turning white.

Father turned to face me directly, his steel-gray eyes cold and unforgiving. "I've decided to remove you from the family registry. You're no longer a Spencer."

The room spun slightly. Remove me from the family registry? The legal implications crashed over me like a wave—no claim to the family name, no connection to their social circle, no safety net. I would be truly alone.

Mother nodded approvingly, as if Father had just announced the weather. "It's for the best, really. Rose needs to focus on her future without... distractions."

Rose leaned back in her chair, examining her perfectly polished nails. "Can I have her bedroom? The eastern exposure would be perfect for my morning yoga routine."

"Of course, darling," Mother said immediately. "We'll have it redecorated before the wedding."

Mr. Whitmore shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly unused to such family drama during will readings. "There are still some legal documents to process—"

"Process them," Father cut him off. "I want this done immediately."

I wanted to speak, to defend myself, to scream that I was still his daughter. But the words died in my throat. What was the point? They had already erased me from their hearts long ago; the legal documents were just catching up.

The sound of car tires on gravel interrupted the suffocating tension. Through the tall windows, I watched a sleek black Bentley pull up to the front entrance. The driver emerged first—a man in a crisp uniform who moved with military precision.

Then he stepped out.

Alexander Cross was everything the society pages claimed and more. Tall and commanding, with dark hair that caught the morning light and sharp features that belonged in a Renaissance painting. His charcoal suit was perfectly tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean frame. But it was his eyes that captured my attention—dark, calculating, and completely unreadable.

Rose practically bounced in her seat. "He's here! Alexander's here!"

She rushed to the window, pressing her face against the glass like a schoolgirl. "Doesn't he look magnificent? I can't believe he chose me."

Within minutes, Alexander was escorted into the library by our butler. The room seemed to shrink in his presence, his commanding aura filling every corner. He moved with the confidence of a man who owned the world—which, considering his net worth, wasn't far from the truth.

"Richard, Eleanor," he nodded to my parents with polite respect. His voice was deep, cultured, with just a hint of an accent I couldn't place. "I apologize for interrupting."

"Not at all!" Father practically beamed, his earlier anger forgotten in the presence of such wealth and power. "We were just finishing up some family business."

Alexander's gaze swept the room, landing briefly on me in my corner chair. For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt an unexpected jolt of... something. Recognition? Curiosity? But then Rose captured his attention, gliding toward him in her cream dress like a swan on still water.

"Alexander," she breathed, reaching for his hands. "I've been counting the minutes until I'd see you again."

He allowed her to take his hands, but I noticed the gesture seemed mechanical, practiced. "Rose. You look lovely, as always."

From his jacket pocket, he produced a small velvet box that made Mother gasp audibly. The diamond ring inside was massive—at least five carats, surrounded by smaller stones that caught the light like captured stars.

"This belonged to my grandmother," Alexander said as he slipped it onto Rose's finger. "She would have wanted you to have it."

Rose held her hand up to the light, admiring how the diamond cast rainbow patterns across the wall. "It's absolutely perfect. We're going to be so happy together."

I watched Alexander's face as she spoke, noting how his smile never quite reached his eyes. There was something calculating about his expression, something that didn't match the romantic gesture.

"The engagement party will be the event of the season," Mother gushed, already mentally planning the guest list.

Father clapped Alexander on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, son."

As they celebrated around the diamond ring, I remained forgotten in my corner chair, clutching Grandfather's locket. The cottage he'd left me suddenly felt like more than just a consolation prize—it felt like an escape route.

But first, I had to survive being Rose's maid of honor.