EMILY.

The sterile sting of disinfectant hit me as I stirred awake, my eyes fluttering open to the stark white of a hospital ward.

I sat up, feeling a little groggy, my head heavy.

My clothes had been changed to a set of plain, unfamiliar scrubs. An IV drip was connected to my arm, and a clean dressing covered where my leg had been bleeding.

Suddenly, a nurse approached. "How do you feel now?" she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, "Better." Better than the stupid drug effects that took a toll on me, leaving me weak and disoriented.

The thought brought a wave of bitter memories: almost being assaulted because of Olivia, and then… kissing a masked man.

My gaze dropped to my finger. A golden ring gleamed there. I was engaged, yet I'd kissed a strange man.

Guilt gnawed at me, a cold, sharp ache.

It was all because of Olivia.

My hands clenched into tight fists.

I would expose her the moment I was discharged.

How could she sell me for cash? When had such cruel thoughts—of me being nothing more than a substitute—started brewing in her mind?

The nurse turned to leave, but I quickly called out, "What about the man who brought me here? Is he still around?" I wanted to thank him. He had been cold, but kind enough to bring me to a hospital.

The nurse shook her head gently. "After he paid for your treatment, he left hurriedly." She glanced at the ring on my finger. "Is he your fiancé?"

"No," I quickly replied, shaking my head. "My fiancé is on a long business trip. He's just a savior."

I rubbed my neck. "I was hoping to thank him. Do you have his contact information?"

The nurse offered a sympathetic smile. "He didn't leave any. Said he was in a hurry and just left."

"Oh," I mouthed, deflating slightly. Then she was gone.

After I was discharged, I made my way to my parents' house—the Carlson Estate. It was a relatively small building, and every time I returned, the reminder hit hard: I was still living under my parents' roof.

Adulthood wasn’t turning out as I had imagined, especially not with the high unemployment rate gripping the city.

I limped through the front door, exhausted. But what made my stomach knot was the unexpected sight of Cole, my fiancé, sitting in the living room. He was tapping his foot, clearly impatient.

Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be on a business trip?

"Cole?" I asked, my voice laced with uncertainty.

He turned sharply. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he stood quickly.

"Babe, you're here," he said, concern in his voice—but there was something else too. An edge I couldn’t name.

"I’ve been waiting for what seems like an eternity. Where have you been?"

"At the hospital," I replied, voice flat.

"Hospital?" He hurried toward me, his gaze darting over my form.

When he saw the bandage on my leg, his expression shifted into what looked like genuine worry.

"What happened? You should’ve called me—I would’ve picked you up."

"I lost my phone," I murmured. Then frowned. "Wait… you said you were on a business trip."

"Yes, but plans changed." He helped me over to a chair and guided me down gently.

Once I was seated, he stayed standing, pushing a hand through his hair—a nervous gesture.

"I have something to say to you," he said.

"What is it? You look worried," I asked, already feeling a cold dread creeping up my spine.

He hesitated. Then sat beside me and took my hands in his. His grip was firm… but it made me uneasy.

"I know you’ll freak out when you hear this, but… let’s call our engagement off."

"What?" The word barely escaped.

My throat tightened. The room tilted.

Shock. Confusion. A crashing wave of disbelief.

This had to be a joke. One of those dark jokes he sometimes made on the phone.

"Is this a joke?" I asked.

He looked away. "I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t continue with you."

Tears welled up so fast they blurred my vision. He was serious. My voice cracked. "But… why? We love each other. We’ve been together for five years. You said we were compatible—that what we had was rare. What changed?"

He released my hands.

"You changed," he said flatly. "Or… maybe I did. But after learning you're not the Carlsons’ biological daughter, I realized all those thoughts about our future were illusions."

I reeled back. "What?!"

"I really thought we’d make it," he continued, eerily calm. "But now? I can’t lie to myself anymore."

Pain sliced through me like shards of glass. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My body screamed to cry, to plead—but my voice was frozen, choked.

Then he said it.

"I’m getting engaged to Olivia instead. She’s calm. Responsible. Sweet. Nice. Always available when I need her."

"Need?" I croaked. "When have I not been available, Cole?"

He looked at me with pity.

I didn’t want pity.

We’d shared five years together—what I needed was truth. Not this cold dismissal.

"When?" I whispered again, as if clarity might change his mind.

"You’re always too busy," he replied. "One day it’s the café. The next, some cleaning job. And then your stunt gigs."

My heart clenched. "Because of my father’s condition! You know I’m working hard to support myself and his medical bills. You knew what I was going through!"

He sighed. "It hasn’t been easy for me either, okay? Do you know what my friends say when they see me with you? They say I’m ruining my image—dating someone with your background. A fake."

He looked away, then muttered, "It’s disheartening."

With one sharp movement, he took my hand—and pulled the engagement ring from my finger.

"I’m sorry," he said, standing up. "But I deserve better."

His better was Olivia.

The real Carlson.

I was just the adopted one—good enough to keep around until something better came along.

I heard his footsteps walking out of the mansion, each step echoing the death of my heart.

Unable to control them anymore, tears flooded my cheeks as I sobbed. My chest squeezed, his words replaying in my head, intensifying the raw hurt.

Where had I gone wrong? Where exactly had I gone wrong?

I'd been nothing but a loving, faithful partner for five years, and now everything was crashing down on me.

"I might as well bring a bucket so you can keep crying," a female voice cut through the room like a blade.

I immediately knew who it was. That cruel woman. Olivia.

"You—!" I gritted my teeth, my voice hoarse through bitter tears. "First, the accusations and the aphrodisiac, now, my fiancé."

"Before you go listing my sins," she said proudly, tossing her long brown hair behind her shoulder. "How about a little highlight?"

My fists clenched. "I don't want to listen to your nonsense. You are evil and despicable."

"Not as despicable as someone who ran out of the hotel like a lunatic," she commented, her smirk widening.

I clenched my fists harder, nails digging into my palms.

She exhaled dramatically. "I will deal with that later." She looked me in the eye, her gaze cold and triumphant. "Anyway. About that highlight… it’s Cole. Don’t cry over the engagement. It was doomed."

I furrowed my brows, confused and desperate for answers. "What are you talking about?"

She grabbed a purse I hadn't noticed her holding, perhaps because of the tears clouding my senses.

From it, she pulled a stack of pictures and threw them at me. They scattered around me, and when one landed on my lap, my breath hitched.

In the picture, Cole and Olivia were kissing on a beach. I snatched another one—Olivia sitting on Cole's lap on what looked like a yacht. Then, another, and another, all showing them together.

My stomach churned with anger and disgust.

Olivia's voice, sickeningly soft, sliced through the air. "Cole and I have been together for months. The business trips? Lies. Manhattan. Islands. Hotel suites. All with me, the real Carlson."

My knuckles turned white, blood draining from them.

She clicked her tongue, a mocking sound. "Now, I have my family back, my position back, and a lovely boyfriend as a bonus."

She paused.

Then leaned down, her voice low and venomous.

"Oh—and I got a kidney from you, too."

The words punched the air from my lungs. Olivia’s kidney transplant—my kidney—had been a necessity after the accident that nearly took her life. But the way she said it now, with that glint in her eye, twisted the memory into something ugly.

Why is she happy about this?

Her smile stretched wider, sharp as a knife. "I just hope your last one holds out, Emily. Because this time, no one’s coming to save you."

White-hot fury surged through me. Before I could think, I was on my feet, my trembling hand flying toward her face—

But she caught my wrist mid-air.

Her nails dug in until I winced.

"Don’t try it," she whispered. "I still have Mr. Carlson wrapped around my finger."

My breath came in shallow bursts.

"You’re heartless," I hissed. "How dare you threaten me with our father?"

Her expression darkened. "You mean the man rotting in the hospital, wasting my money?"

"Let go of me," I choked.

She shoved me back. I fell to the floor with a jolt of pain.

Looking down on me, she sneered.

"I feel stupid for donating so much to keep that old man alive. He’s not responding to treatment. Won’t die either. I should just cut the life support."

"No!" I cried, scrambling to my knees. "Please, Olivia, don’t!"

She scoffed. "Your contribution wasn’t even close to pennies. You don't get a say."

"Please…" I begged, hands pressed together. "He’s the only parent we have."

"And when he recovers, what use will he be?" she snapped. "He’ll just be another burden."

I looked up at her, tears falling freely.

"Don’t," I whispered. "Please don’t do this."

She bent slightly, eyes gleaming. "Even if you lick the dirt off my heel and bang your head to the floor till it bleeds, I won't change my decision."

She turned to leave.

Desperation surged through me. I lunged forward and grabbed her leg. "Olivia, please—he’s been kind to me, to us. He doesn’t deserve this."

"Ugh, get away from me!" she snapped, yanking her leg back and slamming her heel into me.

I tumbled onto the floor, a sharp pain blooming where she’d kicked me. My breath caught as I tried to sit up.

She spun around, her finger jabbing the air like a blade. "Don’t you dare beg unless you’re ready to cough up every cent of his damn hospital bills."

With a furious huff, she stormed out, her footsteps echoing in the silence she left behind.

Her words hit harder than her heel ever could. I couldn’t pay those bills. I didn’t have a lead role in any film—she did. I was barely scraping by with whatever menial jobs I could get.

Was she really going to cut off his life support? I knew she hated me. She always had. But him? Her own father? My adoptive one—the man who had given me nothing but warmth and love until illness stole his strength.

Tears spilled freely as I sank into myself, shaking, shattered, and alone on the cold floor.