CHAPTER 1

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“I didn’t do it!” Layla begged for mercy, pleading with her father to trust her. She was on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I didn’t steal… why won’t you believe me?” Layla’s voice trembled with desperation and pain.

“So, you’re saying I’m wrong?” her father scoffed, his tone laced with irritation.

“Vanessa was around too....why don’t you ask her?”

“Are you calling my daughter a thief?!” Margot, her stepmother, slapped her so hard that Layla lost her balance and hit the floor.

“N-no,” Layla stuttered, fear quivering in her voice.

“How dare you? My daughter will never steal from me! No maid came close to my room today, you are the thief!” Margot roared, her eyes blazing with hatred.

“I d-didn’t d-do it,” Layla sobbed, trying to clear her name.

“Since you refuse to confess,” her father declared coldly, “there will be no allowance for you until next year.”

Layla froze, her breath catching. It’s only the beginning of the year…

“Okay,” she whispered.

She didn’t waste her energy begging. She was used to this kind of judgment, used to the cruelty.

Layla ran upstairs, closed her door, and pressed her back against it. The tears she held back finally fell. She opens a small wooden box, her late mother’s necklace glimmers inside.

She whispered, “If you were here, Mom, they wouldn’t hate me like this.”

Then she wiped her face, forced a small smile, and whispered, “I’ll be fine.”

Layla Carter was the eldest young mistress of the Carter household, but anyone would mistake her for a maid. She lived in the shadow of her stepsister, Vanessa Carter, always paying for her sins, her lies, her schemes.

Margot, her stepmother, despised her deeply and made sure Layla felt it every single day. Layla never understood why she was hated so much, by both mother and daughter.

At twenty-one, she was still naïve, too gentle to see the poison in her home. Her mother had died when she was four, and she grew up believing Margot was her mother. The truth always hurt more every time they reminded her she wasn’t loved.

Tears stung her eyes as she left the mansion. She couldn’t stay there another minute.

She went to her friend’s house, which was just a few blocks away, and rang the bell.

A maid opened the door. “Is she home?” Layla asked softly.

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid replied.

Layla climbed the stairs, her legs heavy but familiar with every step. She’d spent more time here than in her own home.

“Amara?” Layla pushed the door open without knocking.

“Hey! The door exists for a reason,” Amara said lazily from the bed, but her teasing stopped when she saw Layla’s face.

“Why are your cheeks so red?!” Amara jumped up, alarmed.

Layla tried to smile faintly. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that. What happened this time?” Amara sighed, folding her arms.

“She lost her necklace,” Layla murmured, referring to her stepmother.

“What? Again?!”

Amara’s eyes widened. She already knew how things worked in the Carter mansion, how Margot manipulated Layla’s father, how they twisted everything against her.

“I’m sure she just needed money,” Amara muttered bitterly. “But why lie about you stealing? Doesn’t she have another trick?”

She stopped herself when she saw the pain flicker in Layla’s eyes. “Forget it,” Amara said quickly, forcing a grin.

“Let’s go party, Layla!”

“What? A party?”

“No, it’s getting late,” Layla protested.

“Girl, please. You can’t party in the morning….it’s only fun at night!” Amara rolled her eyes and motioned for her to get dressed.

“You need to loosen up. You can’t sleep looking like that.”

Despite her hesitation, Layla let herself be convinced.

*******

The two girls entered the club. The music was deafening, the bass vibrating through their chests. The lights flashed in soft bursts of red, blue, and gold, painting faces and shadows.

Amara was in her element, she started dancing the moment they walked in. Layla, however, felt out of place.

“Let’s dance, Layla!” Amara shouted over the music, but Layla shook her head.

“You really don’t know how to have fun!” Amara screamed.

“Whatever,” Layla mouthed back with a small laugh.

“Then let’s get some drinks!” Amara tugged her to the counter.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing Layla’s discomfort.

“I don’t feel comfortable in this dress… and this tattoo,” Layla hissed quietly.

“Come on, girl! You look gorgeous. And that butterfly tattoo? It’s just temporary. I’ll erase it tomorrow. It suits you.”

Amara grinned, pointing at her chest. Layla tried to cover herself, but the dress was too short and revealing.

As Amara turned to order, her expression froze. “Wait… is that Vanessa?”

Layla followed her gaze, and her heart dropped.

“Layla, isn’t that your sister?”

“What’s she doing here?” Layla panicked. Vanessa was still underage, seeing her in a club shocked her.

She hurried toward her, Amara trailing close behind.

“Vanessa! What are you doing here?” Layla demanded, ignoring the group around her sister.

Vanessa stiffened, her eyes wide with guilt. “I—I can explain. I just came to have some fun. It’s my first time, I swear. I won’t do it again, I promise!”

She put on her pitiful face, knowing exactly how to melt Layla’s heart.

Layla sighed. “Okay. I won’t tell Father. But we’re leaving now. This stays between us.”

Vanessa’s lips curled into a hidden smirk. Fool, she thought.

Amara noticed that fleeting, wicked look and felt her stomach turn. She’d never liked Vanessa, something about her always felt off.

“Let’s stay for a while,” Vanessa suggested sweetly. “I’ll stay with you, sis. What do you think?”

Layla shook her head. “No, I think we should go.”

“She said she wants to stay with us. It’s fine,” Amara sighed, giving in.

“Let’s dance, girls!” Amara exclaimed.

Layla forced a smile. They sat by the counter, watching the crowd move.

But Vanessa couldn’t relax. She hated that they had seen her there. She needed leverage—something to use against Layla.

When she couldn’t find anything, she decided to create one.

Vanessa receives a text under the table. Her phone vibrates. She smirks.

“Is she here?” the message reads.

Vanessa types back, Almost ready.

Layla laughs faintly beside her, unaware.

Vanessa watches her sister’s smile, the innocence she despises, and mutters quietly, “Let’s see how pure you’ll be after tonight.”

“I’ll be right back,” Vanessa said, heading to the restroom.

Inside, she made a quick call. Her lips curled into a cold smile. Then she slipped a small packet of powder from her purse and returned to the counter.

She poured the substance into Layla’s drink discreetly.

“Oh, I can’t drink anymore,” Layla said, pushing her glass away.

“Please, sis,” Vanessa cooed. “Let’s drink to create a stronger bond between sisters.”

Amara snorted. “What are you up to now, you little snake?”

“Just making peace,” Vanessa said with a sweet but irritated smile.

“It’s okay,” Layla said softly, taking the glass to ease the tension. “Fine.”

She gulped it down, unaware of the trap.

Amara, frustrated, walked away to dance, leaving them alone.

Vanessa smirked. Perfect.

*******

Thirty minutes later, Layla started to feel strange. Her heartbeat quickened, her body felt hot, and her thoughts grew fuzzy.

‘What’s happening to me?’ she thought, gripping the counter for balance.

Her cheeks burned, and her body ached with a need she couldn’t understand.

“You okay, sis?” Vanessa asked, feigning concern while her eyes gleamed.

Layla nodded weakly, her words slurred.

“You’re drunk. Let’s get you a room,” Vanessa said, helping her up.

But instead of taking her home, she led her upstairs—to the private suites.

Layla stumbled, barely aware of her surroundings.

“Be careful,” Vanessa muttered, dragging her into a room and locking the door.

She dialed a number. “She’s here,” she said. “Room 308. Don’t forget to take some pictures when you’re done… having fun.”

She ended the call and turned toward Layla, who was swaying on her feet.

“W-where are you going?” Layla’s voice was hoarse, barely audible.

Vanessa smiled coldly and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Moments later, the door opened again.

A tall man stepped in, his scent heavy with alcohol and smoke.

Layla blinked at him, dazed and confused.

“Are you the girl?” his deep voice rolled through the room, making her shiver.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she moved toward him, her body reacting on its own.

Without thinking, she kissed him.

He’s hot, she thought hazily, lost in the moment.

The man caught her easily, lifting her off her feet and carrying her to the bed.

Layla’s vision blurs. She feels warmth on her skin, unfamiliar.

“Stop… this is wr…” she whispers, her voice breaking, but still couldn't push him away.

The man’s silhouette leans closer, his breath hot against her neck. “It’s going to be a long night,” he whispered against her ear, his voice dark and low. “Don’t rush.”

The world spins, and everything fades into darkness.