Chapter 1

The atmosphere in the Anderson mansion was anything but warm. A young girl knelt on the marble floor, mopping with trembling, blood-stained hands.

“Why aren’t you done mopping yet?” a young woman’s sharp voice echoed.

“Amy… I’m almost done cleaning,” the girl begged, looking up at her pitifully.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling my name?” Amy snapped, stomping her heel hard onto Jenny’s already injured hand.

“Arhhhhh! P-please, ma’am!” Jenny cried, trying to pull her hand away.

“Jenny, don’t you ever in your miserable life call my name with that stinking mouth of yours again. Am I understood?” Amy hissed, glaring down at her.

Jenny tried to answer, but the lump of tears in her throat held her voice hostage.

“I SAID, AM I CLEAR?!” Amy screamed, losing her patience.

“Yes, ma’am…” Jenny sobbed.

Amy spun around, her heels clicking like gunshots across the mansion floor as she disappeared down the hall. Jenny sank back onto the cold marble, crying helplessly as she stared at her bloodied hands.

She had been treated like this ever since her mother passed away. Her father, Robert, had remarried Emma—a woman who saw Jenny as nothing more than a servant. And Emma’s daughter, Amy, never hesitated to make her life a living hell. Despite being the first daughter of the Anderson family—the owners of the most luxurious automobile company in the USA—Jenny lived more like a prisoner than a child of the house.

She was still lost in thought when a bucket of cold water splashed over her.

“Get your miserable life off my floor,” Emma barked, dropping the bucket beside her. Jenny scrambled back in fear.

“I–I’ll get it done now,” she whispered, picking up the mop despite the pain.

Half an hour later, Jenny finally finished cleaning. She hurried to the bathroom with her first aid kit. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she gathered medical tape, gauze, and antiseptic. Her hands shivered slightly as she cleaned the wound, wincing each time the cold antiseptic touched her skin. Still, she worked with quiet skill, wrapping her hand neatly before exhaling softly.

Her eyes met her reflection in the mirror. She gave herself a small nod—she could handle pain. She always had.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, exhaustion washed over her. Her stomach growled loudly. She hugged herself; she hadn’t eaten all day.

She went to the kitchen only to find nothing left for her—as usual. With a tired sigh, she picked up a stale piece of bread and a small juice box, then walked quietly back to her tiny room.

Robert trudged up the mansion steps, shoulders slumped, his face drained of color. As he reached the entrance, his steps faltered. He swayed dangerously.

A small hand grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“Dad, are you okay?” Jenny asked, helping him sit. Robert didn’t answer. He simply stared at the floor.

“Call your sister… Amy,” he said quietly.

Jenny’s heart dropped. Amy didn’t respect her—never had. Calling her meant another insult, another wound. But if her father asked… she had no choice.

After hesitating, she reluctantly dialed Amy’s number. After several rings, Amy finally picked up.

“Haven’t I told you never to call me again, you miserable thing?!” Amy barked. Music thumped loudly in the background.

“Dad wants you home. Now,” Jenny said quickly.

“Why?” Amy asked, her tone suddenly calmer.

“I don’t know… but he’s not okay. He asked for you and your mom.” Jenny hung up before more insults could fly. She turned to her father and forced a soft smile.

“They’re coming.”

Robert nodded, still distant… still troubled.

After what felt like hours, Amy swept into the mansion with her mother. Their heels clicked arrogantly across the floor.

“What took you so long?” Robert asked the moment he saw them.

“I was rounding up at work,” Emma replied smoothly, taking a seat beside him. Amy sat opposite them, purposely ignoring Jenny.

“What’s so important that I had to rush back, Dad?” Amy asked coldly.

Robert took a slow breath. “The Logard family contacted me. They want us to fulfill an old agreement. Their son, Richard… needs a wife.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Yes… Years ago, when we had nothing, I borrowed money from Old Man Logard. He demanded one of my daughters marry his son in return. And now… they’ve come for their spouse,” Robert explained, shame coating every word.

“There’s NO WAY I’m marrying that man,” Amy snapped, rising to her feet. “I already have a boyfriend who loves me! I’m not about to hand myself over to some ruthless jerk who can’t control his temper.” She hissed and stormed out.

Robert turned to the only person left.

“Jenny… what about you?”

Before she could open her mouth, Emma cut in with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“My daughter can’t marry such a man. But I’m sure Jenny can handle him. Right, dear?” Emma smirked.

Jenny swallowed hard. “I… I’ll think about it, Dad.”

“Make your decision fast,” Robert said tiredly. “Our lives depend on it.”

He walked away, shoulders heavy with regret.

Emma lingered just long enough to shoot Jenny a daggered glare before following her husband.

Jenny sat frozen. If Amy refused to marry him… and Emma refused… then Richard Logard must be far worse than everyone said. Everyone in Los Angeles knew him as a cruel, ruthless, heartless man. How could her father have agreed to such a thing?

She was still thinking when Emma returned and sat beside her.

Jenny’s eyes widened in panic. She wasn’t allowed to sit on the couch unless her father was present. The punishment for this was always severe.

“No, no, no—please…” Jenny cried, scrambling off the couch in terror.