Chapter 2

Elliott couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful woman in front of him.

She stood still, just watching the funeral.

Connor leaned forward without thinking. Earth to Elliott, what are you staring at?

He followed Elliott's gaze and saw the lone figure. His voice broke Elliott's trance. He looked away, but Connor kept staring at the girl.

A weird, unsettling feeling rose in him, and he wanted to clamp his hands over Connor's eyes.

What are you staring at, Connor? Elliott's sharp tone startled his friend.

Connor turned to Elliott. Huh? What?

Elliott adjusted his sunglasses as he snapped, Let's go.

Connor turned back, but the girl was gone. Hey, where did that girl go?

Elliott waved his hand, as if to tell Connor to push him away. What girl?

The girl in the black dress from a second ago. Elliott, do not tell me you did not see her. Elliott raised an eyebrow.

There are lots of women here. Which one are you talking about?

Connor frowned. The girl standing there by the tree, the one you were staring at.

Elliott shook his head and shrugged. What are you talking about? There's no girl there.

Guys are playing tricks on you. Connor stared for a second. Playing tricks on me, right? You're the one playing tricks.

Elliott ignored Connor's comment. My leg hurts. Take me back to the car.

My friend has finally lost his mind, he mumbled.

Connor pushed Elliott to his car.

Elizabeth Davenport walked along the mountain path as she went home. The funeral was done, and all she wanted was to get as far away as she could. Just as she reached the line of cars parked outside the cemetery, she saw Evelyn Davenport.

Elizabeth turned around to avoid her, but it was too late. Evelyn Davenport inched closer. Elizabeth.

Her bitter tone made Elizabeth grimace. She had given them part of her liver. She could give a damn kidney, and the Davenports would still blame her.

She was sure that they would blame her for Bethel's death.

Elizabeth braced herself for her harsh words, but Evelyn turned her face away instead.

We will come back next week to pick you up. Make sure you're packed and ready.

Elizabeth almost laughed. Sure, Bethel must have asked them to take her back, but there was no way they would just agree.

The Davenports definitely had a reason. They were taking her back. She wanted to say no, but she'd agreed to Bethel the day before she died.

She couldn't say no. Now, Elizabeth nodded. Evelyn turned away without a word, got back in her car and sped away.

The week passed by. Elizabeth quickly finished her breakfast and set the bowl aside. A sharp knock echoed through the house. The sound cut through the silence and pulled her to her feet at once.

She walked over and opened the door. A well-dressed, middle-aged woman stood outside, neat and composed. Elizabeth sighed.

Of course, they would send someone else to get me. It was probably the Davenport family's housekeeper.

Elizabeth leaned against the door frame, one arm resting loosely, as her eyes narrowed slightly.

The housekeeper lifted her chin, her tone formal but empty of warmth. I'm sent by the Davenports to bring Miss Davenport home.

Elizabeth sighed and turned around. I'm Elizabeth. Come on in.

Mrs Warner stepped inside, but did not move further. She glanced around the small home, her eyes lingering on every worn surface.

The disgust in her expression was clear. She looked straight at Elizabeth. Miss Davenport, it is getting late.

We should leave right away. Elizabeth had already packed her belongings. A simple backpack rested against the wall.

Beside it sat a small, chubby kitten. Its fur was soft and uneven, its round eyes watching everything with quiet curiosity.

Elizabeth had found that kitten a month ago. It had been on the brink of death, weak and barely breathing.

Perhaps she had seen herself in it. Perhaps she had felt that same sense of abandonment and taken it home without hesitation.

Refusing to let it die.

Mrs Warner's gaze dropped to the kitten, and the disgust on her face sharpened.

This Davenport madam despises stray cats of unknown origin.

Elizabeth did not react. She picked up the kitten in her arms and let her fingers rest gently against its back.

Where I go, he goes. Mrs Warner folded her arms. If Miss Davenport insists on bringing him.

Then I will need Madam's permission.

She pulled out her phone and stepped outside without waiting for a reply.

Elizabeth gave a small nod and shifted her weight against the door frame, her expression calm.

The disgust on Mrs Warner's face had quickly turned to bafflement. She must have expected Elizabeth to comply the minute she'd brought up Evelyn.

But Elizabeth wasn't a little girl anymore, and the family had no idea of the woman she had turned into.

A short while later, Mrs Warner walked back in. She fixed Elizabeth with a pointed look, chin lifted. Miss Davenport.

Keep a close watch on your cat. The Davenport Estate is not the countryside.

Elizabeth gave no reply. She lowered her gaze and focused on the kitten in her arms, her fingers gently brushing its soft fur.

Her long lashes cast faint shadows across her cheeks, and her skin looked pale and smooth, almost like polished jade.

The disdain in Mrs Warner's eyes deepened as she turned away.

Elizabeth stepped into the car that the housekeeper had guided her to. The housekeeper smirked as she opened the car door and closed it behind her.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. As if she wanted anyone to open doors for her. She'd kick them all in.

Eight hours passed in silence. The road stretched long and endless until the car finally came to a stop in front of a grand mansion.

Elizabeth lifted her eyes and looked ahead. The estate stood just as it did in her memories. It was familiar, yet cold and distant.

Her heart began to pound as past trauma resurfaced. The housekeeper glanced at her from the side, her lips pressing into a thin line as irritation surfaced again.

Miss Freya has a delicate constitution. If this cat of yours frightens her, you will face the consequences.

Elizabeth gave no sign that she heard her. She sat still and held the kitten close, still and composed.

The housekeeper had been surprised when Mrs Davenport had asked her to go pick up the ungrateful child, who was a jinx to the wonderful Freya.

She could not understand what Stephen and Evelyn were thinking. Bringing someone like this back into their home made no sense to her.

She drew in a breath and forced her irritation down. She stepped out of the car and motioned forward, her tone firm. Sir and Madam are waiting in the study. Follow me.

Elizabeth stepped out and followed without a word, her steps steady. They moved through the estate and reached the study door.

The housekeeper stopped at the entrance and straightened her posture. She spoke toward the inside with practiced respect. Sir.

Madam, a voice came from within, deep and controlled. Stephen said coldly, Let her in.

The housekeeper dipped her head slightly. Yes, sir. She turned to Elizabeth and stepped aside, her tone clipped. Sir wants you to go in.

Elizabeth placed her hand on the door and pushed it open. The kitten rested quietly in the crook of her other arm as she stepped forward.

Elizabeth stepped inside and let her gaze settle on the man behind the desk. He looked pudgy and balding, his small eyes nearly hidden in the folds of his face.

Those eyes watched her with a sharp, calculating glint that missed nothing.

Beside him sat a well-maintained woman, poised and immaculate. Time seemed to leave no mark on her. Her beauty stood out cold and severe.

The kind that demanded distance instead of warmth. These were the people who once claimed her as their daughter.

Stephen Davenport and Evelyn Davenport. Evelyn leaned back slightly and let her eyes sweep over Elizabeth from head to toe.

Displeasure flickered through her expression. Sit.

Elizabeth walked forward and took a seat. She placed the kitten securely in her lap.

Her posture stayed straight, as if she had expected nothing less. Stephen rested his hands on the desk and looked at her without warmth. He did not waste time on pleasantries.

Now that you are back, you are part of this family. Freya is your sister. Everything you do from this moment will be for her.

He paused for a second. As her older sister, you must be ready to protect her with your life when it matters.

The words landed cold. Elizabeth lowered her gaze, her lashes falling to hide the chill that flickered in her eyes.

Protect Freya Davenport with my life. So this was her role, her purpose, to be a shield for the daughter they loved.

Nothing more. A quiet bitterness stirred inside her, but she kept it buried.

How naive she had been as a young orphan to believe these people would ever treat her as their own.

Stephen paused, then continued, as if the previous words carried no weight at all.

We've also arranged a marriage for you. He leaned back and spoke with the same detached ease. You will marry the third son of the Blackwood family.

The engagement party is in two weeks.