CHAPTER ONE: THE OBEDIENT DAUGHTER

The first thing I saw that morning was blood.

Not mine.

At least, not yet.

It was splattered across the white marble floor outside my father's study, mixed with the broken pieces of a glass vase.

I stopped walking so abruptly that the heel of my shoe scraped against the floor.

For a few seconds, I simply stared.

The blood was still wet.

A small drop slid slowly along the edge of a broken piece of glass before falling onto the marble.

My stomach turned.

I looked around the hallway.

Two guards stood a few feet away, their expressions unreadable as they stared straight ahead.

Neither of them looked at the blood.

Neither of them looked at me.

That was when I became more nervous.

“What happened here?”

My voice came out quieter than I intended.

The guards didn't answer.

I looked from one to the other.

“Whose blood?”

Still nothing.

Of course.

In this palace, silence was practically another language.

I took another careful step, making sure not to step on the broken glass.

My eyes remained on the closed doors of my father's study.

Whatever had happened inside, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like the answer.

I continued down the hallway anyway.

I was almost at the end when the doors behind me opened.

“Shane.”

I stopped.

My father's secretary stood in the doorway, clutching a black folder against his chest.

He looked nervous.

That made two of us.

“Your father wants to see you.”

I couldn't help but look at the blood again.

“Now?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I turned fully toward him.

“Tell him I'll come later.”

The secretary's face immediately lost what little color it had left.

“Ma'am, please.”

I stared at him for a moment.

“I'm kidding.” Then I sighed.

His shoulders dropped in relief.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

I turned around and walked toward the study.

As much as I hated my father, I wasn't stupid enough to make him wait when I already knew he was angry.

I entered without knocking.

My father stood beside the window with his hands behind his back.

He didn't look at me.

I slowed my steps.

That was never a good sign.

Whenever my father was angry, he didn't need to raise his voice. In fact, the quieter he became, the more careful everyone around him had to be.

“Father.”

He remained silent.

I glanced at his desk.

Several documents were spread across the surface beside a tablet and a photograph.

The moment I saw the photograph, I already knew who it was.

My stepsister.

I felt, My core seared with a sudden spasm.

He picked up the photograph.

Then he threw it toward me.

I caught it against my chest more out of instinct than skill.

“You knew.”

“Knew what?” I frowned.

He walked toward the desk and dropped another photograph onto it.

I looked down.

My stepsister was entering a hotel with a married politician.

The photograph was clear.

Too clear.

My fingers tightened around the edges.

“I didn't know.”

“You're her sister.”

“Step-sister.” The correction escaped before I could stop it.

My father's eyes immediately lifted toward mine.

My heart plunged straight into my gut.

I lowered my gaze.

“Sorry.”

Why did I say that?

My father didn't respond immediately.

He didn't have to.

The silence was enough.

“You were supposed to watch her.”

I slowly looked up.

“I wasn't aware that I was her babysitter.” The words had barely left my mouth when I regretted them.

My father's expression remained perfectly calm. That was worse.

He could have shouted.

I almost wished he would.

Instead, he said, “You're right.”

“I am?” I blinked.

“You're not responsible for her choices.”

For half a second, relief loosened the knot in my chest.

Then he continued. “But you are responsible for the consequences.”

There it was.

The trap.

I swallowed.

“The scandal is already spreading. The family name is being dragged through the mud. And who do you think must be blamed and held accountable for this mess?”

“Me.” I already knew.

“Correct.”

“Yes, Father.” I nodded.

“You will handle the situation.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You will make sure she stays inside the palace until I decide what to do with her.”

“Okay, Father.”

“And you will personally speak to the people involved.”

I hesitated.

I wanted to ask why.

I wanted to tell him that none of this was my fault.

But I knew better than to waste my breath.

“Yes.”

He stepped closer.

“Do you know what happens when this family is embarrassed?”

I said nothing.

His eyes remained fixed on mine.

“And if you fail to fix this, I will make sure you are punished.”

My fingers curled against my palms.

“And someone else will be dragged into this because of your incompetence.”

My heart sank.

He didn't say her name.

He didn't need to.

Althea.

My real sister.

The one person he could use to make me obey without ever raising his voice.

I forced myself to breathe normally.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

He returned to his desk.

The conversation was apparently over.

At least, I thought it was.

“And stop looking for them.”

My feet froze.

I didn't turn around.

My father's voice remained calm.

“I know about your little trips. Spain. Japan. Everywhere you think you can search without my knowledge.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

So he knew.

Of course he knew.

My father always knew more than he should.

“I was only traveling for business.”

“Don't lie to me.”

His faint smile made my skin crawl.

I lowered my head.

“Yes, Father.”

“If you continue searching for them, I won't stop you.”

I slowly looked at him.

For one foolish second, I thought I'd finally been given permission.

Then he added,

“But Althea will suffer the consequences.”

The relief disappeared instantly.

My blood ran cold.

He leaned back in his chair.

“Do you understand now?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

I swallowed.

“I understand, Dad.”

“Good girl.”

The words should have sounded like praise.

They didn't.

They never did.

I turned toward the door.

“Shane.”

I stopped.

“You're my most obedient daughter.”

I forced a smile.

“Thank you, Father.”

I walked out.The moment the doors clicked shut behind me, my smile vanished.

I finally let out a ragged breath, one I'd been holding for far too long.

My hands were freezing and shaking so badly.My heart was hammering against my ribs, making my chest tight.

But I kept walking.

I didn't run, even though my legs wanted to sprint away.

I didn't slam the doors, forcing myself to close them gently.

I didn't cry, swallowing the burning lump in my throat.

That was exactly what my father wanted.An obedient daughter.

A daughter who always says yes, without hesitation.

A daughter who bends to his every whim, with a quiet nod.

A daughter who stays completely silent, burying her own voice.

So that's what I gave him.

A perfect performance of submission, despite the terror inside me.

Because if my father wanted a weak daughter—I'd give him the most submissive, broken one he'd ever seen.

I just needed him to keep believing it.