As I stepped into Dominic's house for the first time, the sheer grandeur of the interior took my breath away. Marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, reflecting the crystal chandelier that hung like a jewel in the entryway. The space was pristine, intimidatingly elegant, yet somehow cold-like Dominic himself.

A stern-looking man in a black suit, who I presumed to be the butler, greeted me with a stiff bow and a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Miss Zara, welcome. Mr. King has instructed me to take care of your every need in his absence. Please, this way."

I followed him silently, my suitcase wheels humming softly against the polished floors. Each step I took felt heavier than the last. There was no warmth to this place, no welcoming hug, no gentle word-just opulence and silence.

The butler led me to a spacious room, tastefully decorated in warm creams and muted golds. A large window overlooked a serene garden, and plush furniture filled with his clothes that whispered wealth. I walked in slowly, letting the door close behind me.

I was alone.

Again.

The silence pressed in on me like a weight. I dropped my bag, sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, and allowed myself to feel it-this strange mix of awe and emptiness. This was my new reality. This was the life I'd signed up for.

A sharp buzz jolted me out of my thoughts. My phone. I scrambled for it, my heart inexplicably skipping a beat when I saw Dominic's name flash across the screen.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice small.

"I'll be home late," he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. "We'll discuss arrangements over breakfast or dinner tomorrow your choice. Be ready."

Just like that, the call ended.

No welcome. No inquiry. Just a command.

Still, a flutter stirred in my chest. A pathetic little thing-hope, maybe? I hated that I felt anything at all. I should've been immune by now.

A knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. The butler again. "Miss Zara, the wedding planner and designer are waiting for you in the living room."

I sighed, smoothing the front of my dress. Time to play the role.

---

The meeting with the wedding planner and designer was efficient. They presented mood boards, color palettes, dress sketches-all elegant, all expensive. I gave my input, but truthfully, I couldn't muster much enthusiasm. The wedding was nothing but a transaction, a public performance. I was the bride in name only.

Once they were gone, I felt drained. My heart was restless, and I knew there was only one place I needed to go-even if it hurt. My family house.

I needed answers.

I needed closure.

Or maybe... maybe I just needed someone to say they missed me.

---

The familiar gate creaked as I stepped through it. The house hadn't changed-it still looked like the home I remembered, but colder now, distant somehow. The maid opened the door, her expression instantly soured the moment she saw me.

I forced a smile. "Is my mom in?"

With a dramatic eye roll, she disappeared into the house.

I stood in the hallway, the silence suffocating. The walls seemed to echo with memories I no longer wanted. I heard footsteps

Then-

A sharp sting lit up the side of my face.

My head whipped to the side from the force of the slap. For a second, I couldn't move. I just stood there, stunned, my hand slowly rising to my burning cheek.

"You're so insolent," my mother spat, her voice thick with fury. "You threw your sister out over a man. What if she hadn't called us immediately? What would have happened to her?"

Tears blurred my vision. I hadn't said a word. I hadn't even been given a chance to explain.

She didn't care.

No one ever cared about my side of the story.

I should have walked away. I should have protected what little dignity I had left. But I stayed, like I always did, hoping-foolishly-that this time would be different.

Then Rose appeared.

Of course she did.

She wore sorrow like a tailored dress, face crumpling just enough to seem pitiful but still beautiful.

"Mom, let her go," she said, rushing to our mother's side. "It's not her fault that she loves Mark... but he doesn't love her back."

My breath caught in my throat.

She turned to me, eyes shimmering with fake remorse. "I'm sorry you love Mark, Zara. But he loves me. And I love him too. I even told him to leave me for you. I begged him to choose you, but he refused."

A dagger would have been kinder.

Each word was designed to hurt, and it worked.

My sister had perfected the art of manipulation. She was playing my mom like a violin, tears flowing, voice trembling, and just like that-she was the victim.

My mom wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, Rose. My poor daughter. Get up."

She turned to me again, her fury reignited. "And you," she hissed, slapping me again. Same spot. Same burning sting.

"This is for letting your sister kneel before you. You should be ashamed. You're her elder sister. It's your duty to protect her. Not fight over a man like some common street girl."

My body trembled, not from pain, but from the growing fury inside me.

I was the one who got betrayed.

I was the one who got humiliated.

And yet here I was-being punished for it.

I blinked through the tears, keeping my head high even as my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Rose was chatting again, animated now, talking about a new dress she bought, her tears already forgotten. My mom laughed along, completely engrossed.

I stood there, invisible.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Finally, my mother glanced back at me with disdain. "Go and change. Dinner's almost ready. Don't embarrass us."

---

Dinner was a carefully orchestrated performance. My sister, ever the star, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories of shopping, spa days, and luxurious dreams. My father nodded approvingly. My mother beamed. I sat like furniture-present, but irrelevant.

Then the doorbell rang.

Rose jumped up instantly. "That must be him!"

I froze.

The door creaked open, followed by her voice cooing like a love-struck teenager. "Hi, baby. You're just in time. Dinner is about to start."

Footsteps approached. Laughter. Clasped hands.

Then-Mark walked in.

My heart thudded painfully. He looked good. Too good.

But what shattered me wasn't his appearance-it was the way he looked at her. As if she was the only woman in the world.

My sister clung to him like a badge of honor, parading him in front of us with smug satisfaction. My parents welcomed him like a son.

He didn't even glance at me.

I stared at my plate, willing the tears not to fall. I'd cried enough. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

The dinner passed in a blur. I barely tasted the food. My mind was too loud, replaying memories, dissecting pain. The smiles. The giggles. The way Mark wiped food from Rose's cheek. All of it felt like knives.

And then-

Rose cleared her throat.

She and Mark stood, still holding hands.

"Mom, Dad... we have something to tell you."

I looked up, dreading what was coming.

"I'm pregnant," she announced, a glowing smile on her face. "And we've decided to get married before I start showing."

The world tilted.

I couldn't breathe.

My vision tunneled as they smiled at each other like a couple out of a movie. Mark kissed her cheek. She leaned into him.

That could've been me.

That was supposed to be me.

I stared at the chair she sat in and imagined myself there. Imagined him beside me. Imagined a life I almost had-until it was stolen from me.

Fresh tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

The words I had planned to say-the news about Dominic, about the marriage-died in my throat.

What was the point?

I had no family.

No one saw me.

No one chose me.

And in that moment, something inside me snapped.

Something cold and calculated began to take shape.

I would no longer beg for love.

I would no longer apologize for existing.

I had spared my parents in my mind-thinking maybe, just maybe, they would one day love me as they should.

But now I knew the truth.

They never would.

And I would never forgive them for this.

I would attend my sister's wedding. I would smile. I would toast.

Then I would cut them off.

All of them.

But before that?

I would get my revenge.

I would show them the girl they turned their backs on wasn't weak.

She was just biding her time.

Even if it cost me everything-I would make sure they all paid.