1

I woke up to sunlight on my face and a dull, heavy throb behind my eyes.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was too white. The room was too quiet. Nothing in it belonged to me.

I sat up too quickly, and the room swayed.

My mouth was dry, and my skin flushed. My entire body felt heavy and sore, and my stomach turned before I could even understand why.

The spot beside me on the mattress was empty, and the sheets were cold to the touch.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and tried to piece together the night before. A glass of fruit juice. The room spinning out of control. A voice down the hallway. Strong arms lifting me up.

After that, everything dissolved into a fog. Just a strange, burning heat, and the sound of my own voice agreeing to something I couldn’t remember.

My graduation dress hung over a velvet chair nearby, carefully folded—a level of neatness I never would have bothered with.

My phone sat on the nightstand, its screen lit with four missed calls: two from my mother and two from my best friend.

None from the person I thought had been with me last night.

I forced myself to believe that it didn’t mean anything.

My hands trembled as I pulled my clothes back on and stepped out into a quiet, unfamiliar corridor. A staff member appeared almost instantly.

“Miss Sinclair,” the man said smoothly. “Your driver is waiting downstairs.”

I hadn’t called for a car. I hadn’t told a single soul where I was.

A few weeks ago, I would have demanded to know how they found me. A few weeks ago, I still believed that asking the right questions yielded honest answers.

I didn’t ask anything this time. I simply followed him out into the morning air, weighed down by the secrets of a house I barely understood, with no idea who had put me in that bed.

I knew only one thing for sure.

Someone had planned last night down to the last detail. And whoever it was, they were nowhere near finished with me.

***

Roxy

The first thing I noticed about my new home was how much it felt like a place I didn’t belong.

The iron gates opened slowly as the car approached, revealing an estate so vast that I forgot, for a second, to breathe.

I pressed my palm to the cool glass. A long driveway stretched ahead, lined with trees clipped into identical shapes and stone lanterns spaced as though someone had measured every inch.

At the end stood a house that looked less like a home and more like a royal palace.

“This is where he lives?” I asked quietly.

My mother smiled beside me, her eyes bright. “This is where we live now.”

I turned to look at her. She looked happier than I’d seen her in years. That should have been enough to settle me. Instead, something low and wordless sat in my stomach, refusing to move.

“You really think this is going to work?”

Her smile softened. “I do.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Dorian’s given us a chance at a completely different life. All I’m asking is that you give him one too.”

Dorian.

Even in my head, the name felt strange. Too formal for a man I was apparently supposed to start calling family.

I’d seen his face in magazines and headlines. A stranger with too many zeroes next to his name.

The car stopped at the base of the marble steps. Before the driver had even reached my side, the mansion’s double doors opened.

Dorian stepped out.

He was older than the men I was used to, but there was nothing soft about him. His black suit fit him perfectly. Silver touched his temples.

My mother hurried out of the car.

“Dorian.”

He came down to meet her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her forehead.

I looked away, then felt someone watching me.

Dorian’s eyes were already on me.

He didn’t look away.

His gaze moved over me slowly, not openly inappropriate, but not quite the way a man should look at his new stepdaughter either. I suddenly became aware of my dress and my hands.

I straightened.

“Roxy.” His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding.

I forced myself out of the car and met his gaze. “Mr. Sinclair.”

A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.

“Dad.”

The word landed strangely.

I didn’t move for a second.

Dad.

I had one of those once, a long time ago, in a small apartment with a radiator that clanked all winter. A man I still thought about at odd hours, whose face I was starting to lose the exact shape of.

This was not that.

This was a wealthy stranger standing in front of me, handing me a word as if it already belonged to him.

“...Dad,” I forced out.

“Good.”

Something about the quiet satisfaction in his voice made me uneasy.

He stepped aside and gestured toward the open doors.

“Welcome home.”

“Thank you.”

I started up the steps after my mother, but his voice stopped me.

“One thing before we go in.”

Dorian’s expression was calm, almost friendly.

“This house has rules, Roxy. Most of them exist to keep everyone comfortable. You’ll learn them as you go.”

“What kind of rules?”

“The kind you don’t need to worry about,” he said, “as long as you don’t go looking for reasons to test them.”

Something about the way he held my gaze made me feel there was more behind those words than he was saying.

My mother laughed, a quick, nervous sound, and hooked her arm through mine.

“Oh, Dorian, don’t scare her in her first five minutes here. She’s going to be on her best behavior. Right, sweetie?”

I held his gaze a second longer than I should have.

“Sure.”

He held it right back. Then he took my mother’s hand and led her inside. I followed a few paces behind them.

The foyer alone could have swallowed our old apartment twice over. A row of staff stood waiting in the entryway, backs straight, heads bowing in unison.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Sinclair. Welcome home, young miss.”

Young miss.

No one had ever called me that before.

My mother’s hand rose to her chest, her breath catching, and I watched twenty years of double shifts and worn shoe soles dissolve into something like disbelief.

“Thank you for your warm welcome,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Dorian turned her gently to face him, one arm settling around her waist.

“From today,” he said to the room, his voice carrying easily across the marble, “she is the lady of this house. My wife.”

She pressed her face into his chest. He stroked her hair once. Seeing her so happy in his arms, some of the tightness in my shoulders eased.

“Mary.”

He didn’t raise his voice, yet a woman stepped forward instantly, head bowed.

“Sir.”

“This is Roxy,” he said, his gaze shifting back to me. “She’ll need attending to.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

The word came easier the second time.

“Take her up,” Dorian said to Mary, already turning back to my mother.

I followed Mary upstairs, past hallways lined with art I didn’t recognize.

“Your room, Miss,” Mary said. “Ring the bell if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and only then did the air in my chest let go.

The room was done in soft blush and cream, furnished like a magazine spread. Nothing looked lived in.

It didn’t feel like mine.

I crossed to the window and pressed my fingers to the glass. Outside, the gates had already closed behind us.

I thought about Dorian’s words. This house has rules.

I didn’t know what those rules were or what happened to someone who crossed a line he hadn’t drawn yet.

His tone had been polite, almost kind. But I understood one thing clearly.

I’d just been warned.

A knock came at the door.

“Roxy.”

My mother’s gentle voice came from the hallway.

I opened the door and found her standing there with a soft, hesitant expression.

“Mom. Is anything wrong?”

“No.” She stepped inside. “I just came to check on you.”

I looked at her closely.

“Roxy, darling,” she whispered, taking my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you didn’t want to come here.” Her gaze softened. “But I couldn’t leave you alone in that tiny apartment.”

“Mom, I love it here,” I blurted out. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She squeezed my hand. “I noticed how uncomfortable you were downstairs. You are my daughter, Roxy. I know when something isn’t right.”

I forced a smile.

“I’m going to try my best to be happy here with you and your husband. I’m sure he’s a good man.”

Before she could answer, Dorian’s deep voice echoed from the hallway.

“Darling?”

My mother glanced toward the door.

“You should go.”

“I will come back later, honey.”

She kissed my forehead before slipping out.

Mom had noticed. Somehow, that made me feel worse.

By dinner, I’d almost convinced myself I was overreacting. Mary came to call me from my room.

“Young miss, dinner is served. The Master and Madam are waiting.”

“Okay.”

I followed her downstairs.

Mom and Dorian were already seated at the foot of the long dining table. Dozens of dishes covered the table, but my attention went to the two of them.

Mom was giggling like a blushing schoolgirl.

Dorian noticed me first.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Please take your seat.”

“Thank you.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down.

Throughout dinner, Mom and Dorian never stopped displaying their affection for one another. He kept her glass filled and leaned toward her occasionally to whisper things that made her smile.

I tried to focus on my food, but now and then, I caught Dorian looking at me. It was only for a few seconds before he looked away.

After dinner, we moved to the living room. I was about to excuse myself and go upstairs when Dorian asked me a question.

“So, Roxy. Which university are you attending?”

“Crestmont University. I’m in my final year.”

Something changed in his expression.

“My son went to Crestmont as well.”

I looked up.

His son.

“Your son?” Mother asked.

“Yes. Evander.”

The moment I heard the name, everything in me went still.

Evander.

No.

It couldn’t be him.

My Evander?

The same Evander who had broken my heart?

I stared at Dorian, hoping he would say another name, but he didn’t.

“He left the country to complete his studies abroad,” he continued. “He’ll be coming home soon.”

My Evander had been a regular guy. He came from a poor background, just like me. He never told me he was rich, and he certainly never told me he was Dorian Sinclair’s son.

It had to be a coincidence.

“Roxy? Roxy?”

I snapped back to reality. “Yes...?”

“What’s on your mind?” Dorian asked.

“Nothing.”

He looked at me for a few seconds before continuing.

“Evander has always wanted a sister. He’ll be happy when he comes home and meets you.”

A sister.

My stomach tightened.

If this was really my Evander, the man who had broken my heart was going to become my new stepbrother.

“Dad, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to my room. I’m tired.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Roxy.”

“Goodnight.”

I quickly went upstairs. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I leaned against it and pressed a hand to my chest.

I walked to my nightstand and picked up my phone. I opened my old photo gallery and searched through the pictures until I found the one I wanted.

I still had an old picture of Evander saved in a hidden folder.

The picture had been taken when we were still together, back when I believed he loved me.

I swallowed hard.

There was only one way to find out.

I pressed the call bell.

A few seconds later, Mary appeared.

“Young miss?”

“Mary,” I said, turning the phone toward her. “The young master… Evander. Do you know what he looks like?”

“Yes, Miss Roxy.”

I showed her the picture. Mary leaned closer.

For a second, something strange crossed her face.

She looked surprised, then it was gone.

“No, Miss Roxy. That isn’t the young master.”

I frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Her answer came too quickly.

“Okay. Thank you, Mary. You may leave.”

She bowed and walked toward the door. I watched her until she left.

Something wasn’t right.

Maybe I was wrong about Evander. But that look on Mary’s face bothered me.

My phone suddenly buzzed.

It was Anna.

‘Are you planning to ditch me now that you’re a rich young miss?’

A smile finally appeared on my face.

‘No way in hell.’

She replied almost immediately.

‘I know! I’m just teasing. How is the mansion? I’m dying to know! Spill EVERYTHING!’

‘What the heck, Anna? There’s nothing to spill yet. I’m completely exhausted. Let’s talk tomorrow.’

‘As you wish, princess. Bye, rest well!’

I put my phone down and went into the bathroom.

After taking a hot shower, I changed into my silk nightgown and climbed into bed.

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I fell asleep.

Hours later, I woke up thirsty. I reached for the glass beside my bed, but it was empty.

The hallway was pitch black and silent. I was heading toward the stairs when a muffled sound stopped me.

It came again. I followed it until I saw a thin line of warm light spilling from the cracked door of my mother’s bedroom.

I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t. But I stepped closer anyway.