Chapter 2

Wade and I had grown up together in an orphanage before we were adopted by different families.

He had been taken in by the wealthy Cafferty family. The couple who adopted me, however, had only wanted a free maid.

I'd worked my hardest in school, earned a place at a prestigious university, and eventually landed a job at Cafferty Group after graduation.

Back then, I'd been so naive. I genuinely believed that hard work could change everything.

It was at Cafferty Group that I found the older brother I'd lost touch with years ago.

The day our DNA test confirmed we were siblings, Wade pulled me into his arms and told me he'd finally found me. I cried, believing I'd finally found a family of my own.

Later, I met Isaac, and we got engaged.

For the first time, I thought all the hardship I'd endured was finally behind me.

Then Renee Sablich came into our lives. She was the woman Wade had always cherished and the one Isaac could never forget.

I discovered that she was stringing both men along, so I decided to teach her a lesson. Instead, she set me up. I was accused of leaking confidential business information and received a suspended sentence.

A black sedan had taken me to the slums and dumped me there. Before driving away, the driver delivered one final message.

"Mr. Cafferty says he doesn't have a heartless, ruthless sister like you. Don't ever come back."

At first, I did try to start over.

But with a criminal record, I couldn't even get an interview at a reputable company. My only option was a job at a factory in the middle of nowhere, where I was assigned the most exhausting work.

One day, a machine on the assembly line malfunctioned, and the new worker beside it froze in panic. I rushed over to shut off the power. A moment later, searing pain shot through my hand.

Two fingers were gone from my left hand.

The factory claimed that I was only a temporary worker and wasn't covered by insurance. Then they fired me because my injury would affect my productivity.

After that, all I could do was take whatever odd jobs I could find. Washing dishes, sweeping floors—I did anything that would pay.

I had to stay alive, after all.

"Olivia?"

Isaac's voice pulled me back to the present.

I looked up, realizing that both he and Wade were staring at me. At some point, I'd unconsciously clenched my left fist.

"What happened to your hand?" Wade asked, his gaze piercing.

I slipped my hand completely beneath the table and shook my head.

"It's nothing."

Isaac, however, suddenly reached across and gently took hold of my wrist. His hand was warm, while mine was cold.

"Let me see," he whispered.

I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go.

Wade stood up and came around to my side of the table, then Isaac drew my hand into the light.

It was painfully thin, with prominent knuckles and a layer of calluses across the skin. My left index and middle fingers were both missing, leaving behind uneven, deformed stumps.

Silence enveloped the room.

Isaac's hand trembled, and Wade's breathing grew ragged.

Slowly, I pulled my hand free and tucked it beneath the table again.

"It happened at a factory," I said evenly. "It was a long time ago."

Neither of them said a word.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Wade finally asked in a hoarse voice.

"It's fine," I said, looking at him with a faint smile. "It's not a big deal. It doesn't stop me from working."

I meant what I said.

Losing two fingers made washing dishes a little slower, but I could still do it. Sweeping was more difficult, but I could manage that, too.

In the slums, as long as you were still capable of surviving, nothing could really be considered a serious problem.

Both men remained silent for a long time. In the end, neither of them said anything more. They simply turned and returned to their seats.

…

When I got back to my room, the maid had already drawn me a bath.

The bathtub was enormous. Steam rose from the hot water as fresh flower petals floated across the surface.

The moment I stepped in, the warmth enveloped me. I couldn't help letting out a long, relieved sigh.

It felt wonderful to be warm and safe again. Over the past five years, I'd often shivered as I washed myself with icy water in filthy public restrooms. Compared to that, this felt like heaven.

When it came to survival, dignity and pride meant nothing.

Now, I finally understood.

As long as I had clean water, a soft bed, and the security of knowing I wouldn't have to go hungry the next day, what did it matter if I had to admit I was wrong? What did it matter if I had to kneel and beg?

The Olivia who would once rather die than give in was long gone. All that remained was someone who wanted to stay alive.

After my bath, I walked to the window and pulled the curtains open just a little. The garden below was illuminated by the soft glow of the landscape lights, and Isaac's car was still parked where it had been.

He stood beside it, a cigarette between his fingers. The tip glowed faintly in the darkness, brightening and dimming with each drag.

I'd always hated the smell of cigarettes. Even a whiff was enough to make me cough. Whenever Isaac smoked, I'd pout, snatch the cigarette from his fingers, and stub it out.

He would laugh, pinch my cheek, and say, "You really do love telling me what to do."

Isaac kept looking up at my window. The moment he saw me part the curtains, he froze. Then, looking almost flustered, he quickly tossed his cigarette away.

My phone rang, and I answered.

"I'm sorry, Olivia," he said, his hesitant voice coming through the phone. "I won't smoke again."

"It's fine," I said sincerely. "You can smoke if you want to."

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.

"Didn't you used to hate it when I smoked?" he asked softly.

My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned pale. My mind raced as I wondered why he asked that question.

Was he testing me? Or was he unhappy with how I'd reacted?

"Back then…" I paused, softening my voice as I tried to appease him. "I was immature."