Never meant to be のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The grand hotel loomed before me, its marble stairs bathed in the fading amber of the late afternoon sun. I stepped out of the car, smoothing the folds of my elegant silver gown, wishing I could disappear into the pavement. This celebration had nothing to do with me, even though it was my mother’s wedding dinner.I hadn’t seen her in months, not since she’d called to announce she was marrying for the fourth time, this time to a wealthy businessman, Robert Sinclair. I had only agreed to attend because I knew the alternative was worse: weeks of her relentless guilt trips and scathing remarks about my "ungrateful attitude." So, here I was, bracing myself for a night of fake smiles and shallow congratulations.The grand entrance to the hotel shimmered with chandeliers and luxury. As I walked in, a sinking sensation twisted in my stomach. No matter how many times I was pulled into her world of glitz and glamour, I never quite fit in. My mother, once a minor actress who still clung to the r

Isabelle -The party continued to swirl around me, but I was barely aware of it. The alcohol was starting to hum through my veins, numbing the sharp edges of everything—the embarrassment, the anger, the sheer frustration of seeing Logan Sinclair again. I needed to get away from him, from all of it. The clinking of glasses, the murmured conversations, the sparkling chandeliers above—it all felt like a blur as I stood at the bar, staring into the amber liquid in my glass.The peace didn't last for long, as my mother marched over to me with a look that screamed “Time to meet the family!”.She latched onto my arm like she was afraid I might make a break for it at any second.“Come on, darling, let’s introduce you to everyone!” she said.Before I could even protest, she was dragging me across the ballroom, weaving through clusters of fancy-dressed guests, most of whom I’d never seen before and would, hopefully, never have to see again. The faces blurred together: cousins I’d barely met, se

The smile faltered, just for a split second, before she regained her composure. “What are you talking about? This is an amazing opportunity for you!”“No, it’s not,” I insisted, frustration bubbling up. “I can’t work for him. He... well, we never liked each other back in high school. I can't imagine having to deal with him on a daily basis. It would be too much for me to handle. "She sighed dramatically, as if I were being unreasonable. “Isabelle, that was years ago. You can’t still be holding onto that.”I stared at her in disbelief. “I’m not holding onto it, but that doesn’t mean I want to be his secretary! I’ll find something else, somewhere else. Just… not this.”My mother’s eyes softened slightly, but not in a comforting way. No, this was the calm-before-the-storm look—the one she used when she was about to unleash her patented guilt trip.“Oh, Isabelle,” she sighed, placing her hand on my arm. “I know you’ve had your differences with Logan, but people change. And this job—it’s

Logan -I slammed Isabelle's diary shut with a soft thud. My fingers rested on it for a moment, as if closing it would somehow shut out the memories too. But no, the memories were still there, swirling in my mind, sharp and jagged. I rubbed my forehead, trying to push back the headache that was starting to build.Why did I do that? Why was I such a jerk?The question felt like a punch to the gut every time I asked it, and I’d been asking it a lot lately. More than I wanted to admit.I tossed the diary back onto the shelf. Every time I thought I had finally moved past that part of my life, something would pull me back. And now, seeing Isabelle again, it felt like the universe was rubbing my nose in the mistakes I’d made.I hadn’t expected her to be my new stepsister. When my dad said he was remarrying, I figured it would just be another awkward family dinner, some uncomfortable, forced small talk with my father’s latest interest, and then back to my life. I never thought she’d walk thr

IsabellaDragging my overstuffed suitcase through the marble-floored hallway, I felt every ounce of its weight as it clattered over the polished surface. The grandeur of the Sinclair mansion was overwhelming, and I’d barely scratched the surface. Towering ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, walls lined with expensive artwork that screamed “old money,” and a staircase so grand it looked like it belonged in a period drama—it was all too much. I knew the Sinclairs were rich, but this mansion was the kind of place that made you realize there was rich, and then there was loaded.The guest room assigned to me was nothing short of spectacular. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in soft light, and the view of the perfectly manicured gardens outside made me feel like I’d stepped into a painting. A massive canopy bed, dressed in plush linens and too many pillows, stood in the center. Gilded furniture and a faint lavender scent gave the room a sense of effortless luxury.I hoved th