CHAPTER 5

ANGELINE HARRINGTON

I couldn't believe this was really happening to me. And worse: that it was my own family 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 always showed me how much she hated me.

They stared at us as if they'd been watching 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, my tongue thick and dry, and a throbbing headache that felt like it wanted to crack my skull. The world returned in fragments: the woody scent of a completely unfamiliar men's cologne… and the warmth of another body in bed.

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

Even lying down, his presence dominated the space. And his eyes… gray, icy eyes that were already staring at me, not with desire, but with a contempt so profound it felt like stabbing me. I had my back to him, but I turned instinctively, and his face became clear. Hard. Sculpted from granite and hatred.

Panic awoke within me. A scream formed in my throat, a hoarse, broken sound of terror.

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

But it was too late. The bedroom door burst open, and the light from the hallway flooded the space, illuminating the face of the only person who could make the situation even worse: Victoria.

She stood there, in the doorway. And she smiled. Not a worried smile, but a wide, satisfied smile, of utter triumph. Her blue eyes shone 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 seem shocked. They seemed… expectant.

It was then, at that exact moment, that the veil not only fell from my eyes, but was violently ripped away.

I was a pawn. I was the pawn in their dirty game.

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

"Your sister is having a party, Angeline. You understand that, with that face, it's best to stay in your rooms," my mother Elizabeth's icy voice said. It was the same as always. Since I was ten, since the car accident that took my brother and left me with this snake-like scar on 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'd returned from boarding school in Switzerland, and since then, Victoria had made my life a living hell. Despite sharing the same blood, we were like night and day. While she was the golden sun of the Harrington family, I was the shadow, the blemish. And she loved reminding me of that.

— Angeline, come here! I need you to fix 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 ever treated me with a spark of kindness, ever 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's the big day, little sister," she said as I helped her get dressed. "The man I love is going to propose to me at this party. Finally." Her eyes sparkled, but there was something false in that joy, a spark of calculation that I only realize now.

That's when she made the request that changed everything.

Angeline, come downstairs and get us a bottle of champagne. Let's celebrate.

I hesitated, completely apprehensive.

— I… don't drink, Victoria.

— Don't be annoying! That's an order. And then, take one last look in my closet, I want to make sure my shoes are perfect.

Innocent. So stupid and innocent. I went downstairs, got the champagne. When I came back, there were two glasses on the table. She poured, insisted. To avoid further conflict, I took my own. I barely moistened my lips, but it was enough. I thought she must have put something in the glass when I turned my back to check the closet before pouring myself some.

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