CHAPTER 5

ANGELINE HARRINGTON

I couldn't believe this was really happening to me. And the worst part: my own family was punishing me like this…

When I entered my house, I saw my parents, the father of the man who was now my husband, those practically unknown people, and her—Victoria, my sister. The one who had always shown me how much she hated me.

They stared at us as if they had just watched a play. Before that terror, all I could remember was the moment my consciousness returned, as if I were drowning. An immense weight on my eyelids, a thick, dry tongue, and a throbbing headache that seemed about to split my skull. The world came back in fragments: the woody scent of a completely strange masculine perfume… and the warmth of another body in bed.

When I managed to force my eyes open, the air stopped in my lungs.

Even lying down, his presence dominated the space. And his eyes… cold gray eyes that were already staring at me, not with desire, but with a contempt so deep it seemed to stab me. I had my back to him, but I turned instinctively, and his face became sharp. Hard. Sculpted in granite and hatred.

Panic awakened inside me. A scream formed in my throat—a hoarse, broken sound of terror.

"Shut up, you damn woman," he growled, his voice a low, menacing thunder that echoed through the silent room.

But it was already too late. The bedroom door burst open with a crash, and the hallway light invaded the space, illuminating the face of the only person who could make that situation even worse: Victoria.

She was there, standing in the doorway. And she smiled. Not a worried smile, but a wide, satisfied smile of absolute triumph. Her blue eyes gleamed with a light I knew well—the light of cruelty achieving its goal. Behind her, my parents. Richard and Elizabeth Harrington. My blood. And they didn't look shocked. They looked… expectant.

It was then, in that exact instant, that the veil not only fell from my eyes but was torn away with violence.

It was a play. I was the piece in their dirty game.

The events of the previous night began to come back, painfully clear, like scenes from a horror movie.

"Your sister is throwing a party, Angeline. You understand that, with that face, it's better for you to stay in your quarters," my mother's icy voice, Elizabeth. It was the same as always. Since I was ten, since the car accident that took my brother and left me with this scar snaking across my face, I was a shame to be hidden. They never forgave me for surviving in his place.

It had been seven months since I returned from the boarding school in Switzerland, and since then, Victoria had made my life a private hell. Although we shared the same blood, we were like day and night. While she was the golden sun of the Harringtons, I was the shadow, the stain. And she loved to remind me of that.

"Angeline, come here! I need you to arrange my clothes for the party and polish my shoes. Don't leave any marks, you useless thing."

I went. As always. The housekeeper Serafina—the only soul in this place who had always treated me with a spark of kindness, since I was little—watched with sad eyes but was powerless against the will of the "young lady."

That night, however, Victoria was strangely… excited.

"Today is the big day, little sister," she said while I helped her get dressed. "The man I love is going to propose to me at this party. Finally." Her eyes glowed, but there was something false in that joy, a spark of calculation that I only notice now.

It was then that she made the request that changed everything.

"Angeline, go downstairs and get a bottle of champagne for us. We're going to celebrate."

I hesitated, completely apprehensive.

"I… I don't drink, Victoria."

"Don't be boring! It's an order. And then, take one last look at my closet, I want to make sure my shoes are perfect."

Innocent. So stupid and innocent. I went down, got the champagne. When I returned, two glasses were on the table. She poured, insisted. To avoid causing more conflict, I took mine. I barely wet my lips, but it was enough. I believe she must have put something in the glass when I turned my back to check the closet before she served me.

As soon as I finished drinking the champagne, my world began to spin. My legs went weak, my vision darkened. The last thing I remember is her cold, triumphant gaze...