Chapter 1

When my mother passed away five years ago, my father didn’t wait long to move on.

He married his assistant, Fiona Garcia a woman whose heart was as cold as ice. She brought along her daughter, Olivia, who was just as cruel as her mother.

I was only thirteen back then naive, innocent, and an easy target.

They made my life a living hell, constantly framing me for things I never did.

They would bruise themselves and scream that I had attacked them, spinning a web of lies that my father caught me in every single time.

To teach me a lesson, my father didn't just punish me; he discarded me.

He sent me away to the province, where I was raised by my grandparents in the quiet countryside.

Now, as my eighteenth birthday approaches, my father has demanded my return to Manila. At first, I refused. I didn't want to leave the only people who truly loved me, but my grandparents insisted.

They believed I deserved my place in the city and so, out of love for them, I agreed.

But I didn't come back as the same weak girl they sent away. This time, I came back ready.

But when I return to Maynila, things don't go my way, same birthday Kasi kami ni Olivia and she's turning 18th too.

“Dad! Olivia has a new dress meron din ba ako”? I asks dad

“Come on you're not here to celebrate but to help the maids, you're turning 18 you can do a lot of things na”. he replied.

but when I heard this my heart aches how does my own father treated me like a maid? while my stepsister treated like a princess?

Wala na akong ibang choice but to follow my father's order, I help the maids to decorate the house for Olivia's 18th birthday—but in my heart there's still a slight hope na sana my father will greet me on a happy birthday.

The celebration began later that evening.

Olivia looked ethereal, leaving everyone breathless with her beauty. Watching her, a bitter ache grew in my chest as the true heiress of the Villareal estate, I never even got the chance to celebrate my own eighteenth birthday.

Tears blurred my vision. For five years, I had held onto the hope that my father would love me again. I had waited so long, but ever since my mother died, he had become a completely different man.

Heartbroken, I turned to leave the party, but Olivia and her friends suddenly blocked my path.

“Where do you think you’re going, bastard?” she sneered.

“I am not a bastard,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady .

“And I’m going to rest.”

“No. You stay here and watch everything,” she demanded, her eyebrows furrowing in anger.

Ignoring her, I turned my back to walk away. Suddenly, she yanked my hair, pinning both my arms behind my back. Before I could struggle, Fiona grabbed a cake from the table and smashed it directly into my face

I couldn't see my eyes were stinging, completely covered in thick icing.

“You’re here to serve, not to act like a brat,” Fiona hissed.

The humiliation was absolute.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the crowd, people yelling in sync that I should be thrown out of the manor.

“No!” I cried out, wiping enough icing away to glare at them.

“This manor is mine. My parents own this. It holds the memory of my late mother, and I won’t leave!”

With every ounce of strength I had left, I shoved Fiona away. She lost her balance and crashed to the floor—just as the doors opened. My father walked in, his eyes landing instantly on me as I stood over the fallen Fiona.

“How dare you pushing Fiona”. Dad said

I didn't even try to defend myself. I knew the script by heart: he would protect her and blame me.

I was tired of begging for a belief he would never give me. Without a word, I walked away, carrying my humiliation in silence.

“Hey, I'm talking to you Adeline, don't be rude”. he said While his voice raising

“Rude! Dad, I am your daughter but yet you choose to stand by her side, your new family”. I replied my voice going hoarse

“What am I to you dad? A maid? Remember this, I was once your daughter and if you treated me like this, I'm leaving for good”. I added my voice cracked.

“If you're leaving then don't come back”. He replied, his voice sounds so heartless

“I'll handle this my love” Fiona replied

Fiona came closer—closer enough as I could feel her breath in my skin, but then she slapped again and again.

"That's for you! you're so disrespectful, by talking back to your father". She said

"If your mother doesn't teach you a lesson, I will". she added

"You have no all fucking rights to teach me a lesson, you are not my mother and you'll never be". I replied my voice getting angrier

I jabbed my fingers against her forehead

"Don't you ever drag my mother's name in this mess, you know why?" my eyebrows furrowed

"She's a refined woman, a decent one, and you are fucking homewrecker, and sometimes I think did my mother died accidentally in car crash or someone do it in purpose". I added

“What do you mean?” Fiona asks but her voice slow

but then my father came between us as he slapped me "You ungrateful daughter". he said

"Ungrateful dad? did you ever forget, that you never raised me, my mother did, but when she died back then you sent me back in province, you didn't even send a penny for my allowance, I grew up because of my grandparents, if I should be grateful for someone that's not you dad, it's my grandparents". I replied voice trembled with rage.

"I'm tired dad, I'm tired waiting and expecting your love, When all I was to you is a maid, I was once your daughter, your family, but then you abandoned me for them".

I saw my father stood tall, speechless maybe he realized that all this years he'd forgotten me

Fiona and Olivia shoved me out of the manor, dragging me to the edge of the estate before throwing me onto the road. I lay there, sprawled on the pavement, as the rainy season took its toll. My clothes were instantly soaked, clinging to my skin. Barefoot and broken, I walked aimlessly down the street, clutching my chest as if to keep my heart from shattering.

Mom, I wish you were here, I whispered into the dark. If you were by my side, no one would ever dare to bully me. I wonder what my life would be like if you were still alive. Please, protect me... because right now, I have nowhere to go.

Through the blur of my tears, I spotted a bar. I stepped inside, a drowned rat among the crowd—hair matted, lips pale, face flushed from crying. I looked like a beggar, but I didn't care. I downed a bottle of beer, my eyes landing on a man at a table across from me. He wore an expensive suit that matched his sharp jawline and piercing hazel eyes. He was alone.

Gathering every ounce of my remaining pride, I approached him. "

Do you want to spend the night with me?" I asked.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Seriously? Unbelievable. Why didn't you just ask for my number?"

I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed heavily.

"A number? That’s too common. Just tell me—yes or no?"

"Your name?" he countered.

I traced my fingers along the broad line of his shoulders, leaning in until my lips were inches from his ear. I could smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath.

"Just call me Addie," I murmured.

"I want to ruin my life—and I want you to help me do it."

I pulled him by the arm toward a vacant room in the back of the bar. The moment the door shut, he pinned my arms above my head, his hands moving to the fastening of my skirt.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low.

"I’m a virgin, and this is the first time I've ever asked a man for anything," I challenged, looking him in the eye.

"Why don't you stop asking and start acting? Are you man enough or not?"

He responded by pressing me into the sofa—the impact was firm yet controlled. He kissed me with a hunger that made me freeze. I let him take me, but the moment his touch became intimate, a weight settled in my chest. Tears began to stream down my face.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asked, pausing.

I couldn't find the words. I just sobbed into my hands, covering my face in shame.

"Hey," he said, his voice dropping to a deep, soft velvet. "Tell me."

"I'm okay," I choked

. "I just got emotional." I reached up, cupping his face and drawing him back into a kiss. His lips tasted of tequila his skin smelled of expensive

tobacco.

"You're so tight," he gasped against my neck.

"Maybe you're just huge," I breathed, trying to catch my breath.

"Repeat that," he commanded, his voice husky as sweat dripped down his collarbone.

"You're huge," I whispered. "You're... everything."

He gripped my hair firmly, pulling my legs around his waist.

"Damn you, Addie," he groaned, biting his lip.

My fingers fisted into the sheets. For the second time that night, I cried—not out of heartache, but from the overwhelming collision of pain and pleasure. He moved with a rhythm that felt both practiced and desperate, as if I were his first time, too.

Eventually, he collapsed beside me, his energy spent. He looked incredibly handsome, skin glistening with sweat. I realized then that I had forgotten to ask his name. My eyes drifted to his chest, settling on a tattoo that would become my mental watermark for him a beautiful blue butterfly. My favorite.