Chapter 1

Edward Sterling was the man who held absolute power at Sterling Enterprises in Northvale. Ruthless, aloof, and born to privilege, he stood at the very top.

Claire Summers was the gentle, well-behaved younger daughter of the Summers family. From an ordinary background and soft by nature, she was like a jasmine flower too delicate for wind and rain, quiet and humble.

Their marriage was nothing more than a loveless business arrangement.

To keep Sterling Enterprises secure, Edward's grandpa Leo Sterling used the Summers family's livelihood as leverage and forced Edward to marry Claire. But Edward's heart already belonged to someone else, Vivian Lane, the woman he treasured most.

Three years earlier, Vivian had fallen off a cliff. Everyone said Claire, driven by love and jealousy, had pushed her on purpose.

Edward believed it completely, and from then on, he hated Claire to the bone.

To him, this marriage was a shackle, a humiliation, and the beginning of his revenge for Vivian.

On their wedding day, Edward never showed up. In the vast church, Claire stood alone in her white gown, facing an empty aisle as she went through with the absurd ceremony.

There were no blessings, no guests, no groom, but only the loneliness Claire couldn't hide in her eyes, and the hope she still refused to let go of.

Claire had loved Edward since she first caught sight of him from afar at a banquet when she was fifteen, and that love had sunk into her bones.

She knew he hated her. She knew his heart belonged only to Vivian.

Even so, she agreed to the marriage, thinking that if she was gentle enough, patient enough, devout enough, one day she might warm his icy heart, make him see the truth, and maybe even make him fall in love with her.

That night, Edward returned to the bridal suite reeking of alcohol. When he saw Claire sitting obediently by the bed, the disgust in his eyes was almost overflowing.

He strode over and clamped a hand around her chin, almost crushing the bone.

His voice was as cold as a winter blade. "Claire, do you really think marrying me makes you Mrs. Sterling? Let me tell you something: you don't even compare to a single strand of Vivian's hair.

"You vicious woman. You killed Vivian and still dared to take her place. I'll make you pay for it. I'll make you spend the rest of your life in pain, paying for what you did to her."

A sharp pain shot through Claire's jaw. Her eyes reddened at once, tears pooling there but refusing to fall.

Looking at the man she'd loved for five years, she explained softly, "Edward, I didn't push Vivian. That day was an accident. I really didn't..."

"Shut up!" Edward barked, shoving her away hard.

Claire hit the floor, her elbow slamming against the cold tile and bruising instantly.

He snapped, "You don't get to say her name. From today on, you're nothing but a sinner in this house, a decorative piece. Don't expect anything from me, not even a shred of tenderness."

From that day on, Claire's hell officially began.

She was moved into the most remote guest room in Sterling Manor. It was dark, damp, and never saw the sun, and even the servants felt free to bully her.

Edward made it clear that no one was to treat her kindly.

The servants deliberately skipped her meals so she'd go hungry, dumped the dirtiest and hardest chores on her so she had to clean the entire villa like a maid, and even gossiped about her behind her, calling her a murderer and a shameless homewrecker.

Claire endured it all in silence, never complaining, never fighting back.

Before dawn every day, she got up to make Edward breakfast and carefully set it on the table, only for him to knock it to the floor without mercy, splashing soup all over her.

When he worked late into the night, she would make soup to soothe his stomach and bring it to his study, only for him to dump it out and coldly tell her to get lost.

When he fell ill with a fever, she stayed by his side all night, sponging his body and giving him medicine.

Yet he shoved her away roughly, snapping that she was just putting on an act, trying to win his sympathy with false tenderness.

She carefully took care of everything in the house, smoothing away every edge of herself, all for the chance that he might look at her one more time. All she got in return was endless mockery and torment.

Edward never bothered to hide how much he despised her.

He hung Vivian's memorial portrait in the most prominent spot in the living room, spoke to it every day about how much he missed her, and deliberately reminisced about every little moment he had shared with Vivian right in front of Claire.

He said, "Vivian, don't worry. I'll make Claire pay for what she did. I'll make that vicious woman spend the rest of her life drowning in guilt and pain."

Every time, Claire felt as if her heart were being cut to pieces. All she could do was turn away in silence, hide in some empty corner, and cry where no one could see.

She couldn't understand why, when she had done nothing wrong, she still had to suffer like this; why the love she gave with everything she had only earned her endless hatred and disgust.

But she still refused to give up. Clinging to that love so humble it had sunk into the dust, she struggled on inside this prison called marriage, covered in wounds.