Chapter 1

The Murray Manor glowed softly under sunlight—gilded beams, tapestried walls, every nook humming with 15 years of my laughter.

I'm Lila, the manor's dearest treasure. My parents and brother doted on me, showering me with tenderness as gentle as a spring breeze and protection as steady as a giant oak.

And Kael Lewis, my fiancé—a war hero who'd turned back invading hordes—his gaze on me held the warmest passion, enough to melt winter itself.

I thought that joy would cling forever. But fate dealt a cruel blow on a day that seemed no different from any other.

That day, an uninvited guest arrived at the manor. Her name was Isabelle, a frail, pitiful-looking woman. No one could have foreseen that her arrival would strike my tranquil life like a boulder cast into still waters, shattering the calm and raising a storm.

"She is our true daughter." When those words left my father's lips, my world collapsed. I stood frozen, mind blank, unable to believe my own ears.

How could that be? For fifteen years, I had lived here, my parents' beloved child, my brother's most cherished sister. How could all of it suddenly become false?

I turned to my parents, hoping they would laugh it off as some cruel joke. Yet the guilt and helplessness in their eyes dragged my heart into an icy abyss.

My brother, Henry, stood to the side, his eyes averted. He couldn't bring himself to meet my gaze. This was the same person who once protected me, who used to lift me onto his shoulders and make me laugh, but now he felt like a complete stranger.

And my fiancé, Kael, also stood at Isabelle's side, his gaze full of care and protectiveness for her. In that moment, I felt abandoned by the whole world, cast alone into darkness.

"No… this isn't true, you must be lying to me, aren't you?" I screamed, my voice raw, tears blinding my sight. But only silence answered me.

I felt like a bird whose wings had been ripped away, left to plummet from the sky. All the love and happiness of the past crumbled into dust, leaving only pain and despair.

The sudden truth was a sharp dagger plunged straight into my heart, making life itself unbearable.

The moment Isabelle set foot in this manor, everything changed.

Once, I was my parents' most precious possession, a fragile thing they treated as if I might break. But now, their gaze never left Isabelle; every smile, every tender word, every shred of affection was given only to her.

At the dinner table, my mother would gently place food on Isabelle's plate—a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. My father listened to her with patient attention, nodding in approval, and the affection in his eyes was a look I simply didn't recognize.

Henry was no longer the one who doted on me alone. He would stroll with Isabelle in the garden, picking fresh blossoms for her, or teach her to ride and shoot, guiding her hand with patient care.

Once, these moments had belonged only to my brother and me. Now, seeing their closeness was like being pierced by a thousand needles; the pain was unbearable.

And I felt like an unnecessary presence in the household, as if my very existence were a mistake. I tried to draw my parents' and brother's attention, even for just a glance or a word.

But they were always busy with Isabelle—caring for her, helping her fit into the family—while completely forgetting me.

Once, I tripped in the garden and scraped my knee, blood seeping from the wound. Tears welled in my eyes as I longed for someone to notice my distress and show a bit of care.

But Henry only cast me a brief glance, said lightly, "Be careful," and then turned back to Isabelle. At that moment, I could no longer hold back my tears.

Back then, even the tiniest scrape would make him frantic with worry. Now, he was utterly indifferent.

Another time, I carefully prepared a gift for my mother: a handkerchief I embroidered myself with her favorite orchids. Overjoyed, I brought it to her, hoping to surprise her.

But when I arrived, I saw my mother sitting with Isabelle, laughing and chatting. I stood hesitantly at the doorway before mustering the courage to go in. When I handed her the gift, she only glanced at it and said a casual "Thank you," before continuing her conversation with Isabelle.

My hand froze midair, and a wave of grievance and disappointment crashed over me. The gift I had poured so much thought into seemed utterly insignificant in her eyes.

The warmth had drained from this place. I was a forgotten child, left alone to bear the weight of neglect. As I watched my parents and brother lavish their affection on Isabelle, a wave of resentment surged within me, yet I had no one to turn to.