Chapter 4

Cheryl 

Just as my father-in-law left the room, splash! Cold water poured over me, drenching my dress and sending a shiver down my spine. I flinched and grabbed a hand towel.

"Oh, I'm sorry! It was an accident," my stepmother whined, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

We both knew it wasn't. Everyone in the room did.

I didn't need to think too hard to connect the dots. Anthony Han was the CEO of Tonyhan, the tech giant that made everything from mobile phones to cutting-edge gadgets the very company I had applied to for an internship. And now, his son Miles was my fiancé.

My family must have been blind to what Miles looked like, or they would never have insisted I'd be miserable with him. 

"Daddy! Why does this good-for-nothing girl get to marry someone like Miles Han?" Dia, my stepsister, shrieked, her voice sharp enough to pierce through glass. "He's too good for her! She deserves someone as pathetic as she is."

"C'mon, Dia," my father said, smirking as he fed her ego. "He's not marrying her to take care of her or make her his heiress. He's only using her to keep his stake in the company. She'll probably spend her days scrubbing his floors. You don't want to be in that position, right?"

Their laughter grated against my ears.

I cleared my throat quietly and slipped out of my chair, irritated by my wet clothes. But just as I turned to leave, a sharp pain yanked me back.

"Ouch!" I gasped as my stepmother's hand clamped onto my hair, pulling it tightly.

"If you think this marriage means your life is finally improving, you're a clown," she hissed, her teeth clenched. "Miles will toss you out like garbage the second he doesn't need you anymore. Just like your mother."

Her words didn't faze me. They never did-not anymore. I'd heard it all over the past eleven years. My family had conditioned me to believe I was destined for misery, born to fail, Their words cut less when you carried the scars already.

I stood still, waiting for her to let go of my hair.

"Mom, stop it!" My stepbrother's voice cut through the tension. 

Unlike the others, he barely paid attention to me. His resentment was quieter, simmering in silence. A trait I sometimes wished the others could adopt.

He strode over, prying her fingers off my hair. Taking my chance, I darted out of the room, ignoring their hateful glares and whispers behind me.

In the safety of my room, I sank onto the bed, my body trembling-not from the water, but from the memories.

My skin still tingled where Miles Han had touched me earlier. It was confusing, almost unnerving. I had never felt that way with any man. Most of the time, the mere proximity of testosterone was enough to make me freeze, tense with dread.

Even my father wasn't an exception.

The reason was simple: I'd spent years under the shadow of my stepmother's brother, a vile man whose presence turned my childhood into a waking nightmare. For five years, I lived in constant fear of his predatory gaze, his wandering hands.

The breaking point came when my teacher caught him trying to lift my skirt after school one day. That was when I told her everything. He was arrested, but my stepmother never forgave me. She called me a liar, accused me of tarnishing her brother's name.

Still, I didn't care. The relief of him being gone outweighed the hatred I endured.

Even now, the memories were suffocating. I gripped my dress tightly, blinking back tears. The feeling of unwanted hands on your body was something words couldn't capture-an invasion that left scars deeper than any beating.

But Miles...

Miles was different. His touch didn't make me want to recoil or scrub my skin raw. I didn't feel the need to shrink into myself or disappear. For the first time, I felt...safe. Relaxed, even.

It was strange. I didn't want to overthink it, but I couldn't shake the feeling.

I had a good feeling about him.

I was dressed, though my mind was still caught in a whirl of doubt over the internship offer. On one hand, it felt odd to be interning at my father-in-law's company. Wasn't it awkward enough that I was marrying his son-someone twenty years older than me? Now I'd be letting the whole world know about this arrangement by working under his roof.

But another part of me argued I was overthinking it. Maybe he'd be thrilled to have me around, and perhaps I'd even enjoy the perks of being part of the "family." Privileges weren't something I was used to, but the idea intrigued me.

What was I doing?

This internship was what I'd been looking forward to all summer. I wasn't about to let a complicated marriage scheme ruin it for me. I tucked my old iPad into my bag, swung it over my shoulder, and braced myself for the familiar discomfort of walking past my stepfamily. The feeling clung to me like wet clothes, heavy and suffocating.

"Good morning," I mumbled, keeping my head down as I hurried past the dining table.

"Come back here," my stepmother's voice snapped, freezing me mid-step. I winced. I was almost at the door. Almost free.

Slowly, I turned back toward the table, where my so-called family was enjoying breakfast like the picture-perfect household.

"Where are you going?" she barked.

"My internship," I replied, keeping my voice steady, though my heart hammered. "I told Dad about it already."

I bit my bottom lip, tapping my foot nervously. Fear was woven into the fabric of my everyday life. My stepfamily thrived on intimidation, and they'd been instilling it in me since I was a child.

"It's probably some silly job where she'll be scrubbing floors," my dad scoffed, not even looking up from his plate.

Relief swept over me. I hadn't told him where I was really interning-he'd have found a way to sabotage it or ruin my reputation there.

My stepsister's nose flared as she glared at me, mirroring the disdain etched on her mother's face. Only my stepbrother Diego seemed indifferent, focused entirely on his lunch.

"Get out," my stepmother finally dismissed me, her tone dripping with disdain.

Dismissed. As degrading as the word sounded, it was often my favorite command from her Without hesitation, I turned and hurried out the door.

"I'm sorry for the wait, I apologized to the cab driver before climbing in.

As we drove off, I exhaled deeply, the tension in my chest loosening.

The outside air was warm, almost suffocating, but it still felt better than the atmosphere I'd left behind.

When I arrived at Tonyhan, the first-floor air-conditioning welcomed me like an old friend.

Everyone seemed busy, their purposeful strides and focused faces making me feel even more self-conscious.

The formality of their attire caught my attention immediately. They were polished, professional-everything I wasn't.

My two-piece green sweatshirt and pants, paired with white sneakers, suddenly felt glaringly out of place. I tried to remind myself that it was all I had.

"Hi, I'm a new intern," I said to the receptionist.

She didn't look up immediately, typing something for a few moments before flashing me a polite smile.

"Hello, sweetie. The IS office is down the hall to your right," she said warmly.

Her kindness almost brought tears to my eyes. I wasn't used to politeness. Not like this. Though I wouldn't actually cry-it was probably just my period messing with me.

I walked down the hall, painfully aware of every step. My outfit wasn't drawing as much attention as I feared; a few glanced my way, but no one stared. No one judged. 

The meeting with the internship supervisor was short and pleasant, though it ended on a sour note. Interns were required to wear uniforms, and they cost more than I could afford.

What was I going to do now?