The day before the Elite Icon model search, I was locked inside my own burning apartment. When the firefighters finally pulled me out, my skin was a ruin of blisters and char. My face, once my fortune, was unrecognizable. Outside the operating room, my mother was wailing, a sound that tore through the sterile hallway. She kept blaming herself, sobbing about how she’d accidentally locked the deadbolt. Roman, my fiancé, had mobilized every top dermatologist in the city. He swore to the heavens he would restore me to perfection. But as I lay on the gurney, drifting in a haze of agony just outside the OR doors, I heard my mother’s voice. It wasn’t hysterical anymore. It was trembling, hesitant. "Roman... even if we wanted to help Tess win the competition... wasn't setting the fire and locking Norah inside... wasn't that too much? Look at her." Roman’s voice was cold, a low rumble of disdain. "If Norah weren't so vain, so selfish, I wouldn't have had to resort to this. She knows Tess suffers from severe depression, yet she prances around the house, flaunting her body, triggering her sister every single day. Norah lost some skin. Tess was losing her will to live. It’s what she owes her sister." He paused, his tone shifting to a terrifying, possessive calm. "Don't worry. I’ll still marry Norah. With the title of Mrs. Roman Ward, no one will dare whisper a word about her scars, even if she looks like a monster. I’m giving her a life of luxury. She should be grateful." Destroying my health, my career, my face—this was his definition of good? I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter. The cold of the hospital air warred with the phantom heat searing my flesh. The man I had loved for a decade. The mother who used to brush my hair and call me her angel. I didn't want either of them. Not anymore. ... "Cancel the surgery. Tell the specialists to wait in the hall." The trauma surgeon, already gloved up, looked at Roman in disbelief. "Mr. Ward, the burn coverage is critical. Her trachea has severe smoke damage. If we don’t operate immediately, she could lose her voice permanently. Her face... her skin... it will be irreversible." My mother flinched. "Roman, she’s hurt so badly. She definitely can’t compete tomorrow. Maybe we should just let them operate..." "Let it rot," Roman said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If we fix her now, her ego will bounce back. She’ll find a way to sabotage Tess even from a hospital bed. She needs to be broken—physically and mentally—so she stops trying to overshadow Tess. I’m doing this to humble her. It’s for her own good." He picked up a wet cotton swab and gently dabbed my cracked, bleeding lips. It was a lover’s touch, terrifying in its tenderness. But his words were a blade. "I promised Tess that this championship is hers. I won’t let anyone, not even you, stand in her way." My mother sighed, a sound of resignation, and turned to the doctor. "Just give her pain management. Clean the wounds, but... gently. Don't let her hurt too much." No one noticed my body trembling under the thin sheet. It felt like a shard of glass had been driven straight through my heart. The suffocation was worse than the smoke. The fire wasn't an accident. It was a meticulously designed execution, orchestrated by the man I’d planned to marry, all to clear the runway for Tess, my adopted sister. And my mother—my soft-hearted mother—was an accomplice. They stood in the doorway, ignoring my silent screams, relieved that my light had finally been extinguished. Pain spiked in my chest. My throat convulsed, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood. My mother gasped, reaching out instinctively, but her hands hovered in the air. There was nowhere on my body left to touch that wasn't raw flesh. "Norah, baby, Mom is here," she wept, her eyes red. "Does it hurt? Don't be scared. I’ll never leave you." Roman turned on the hospital staff, performing the role of the distraught fiancé perfectly. "Where the hell is the dermatologist? If anything happens to my wife, I’ll bury this hospital in lawsuits." The doctor, who had clearly been paid off, stammered his rehearsed line. "Mr. Ward, we’re trying. There was a pile-up on the bridge. The specialist is stuck in traffic. He won't be here until tomorrow." Roman kicked the surgeon in the shin. "Get out." He turned back to me, crouching down until we were eye-level. His face was a mask of tragic guilt. "Baby, I’m so sorry. I got here too late. I let you suffer. But listen to me—I don’t care what it costs. I will fix your face. I will get you back on the runway." I stared at him, numb to the bone. "Will I... really recover?" "You will. I promise." His earnestness made me feel like a fool. To remove a stumbling block for Tess, this man—who had held my hand from high school prom to our engagement party—had woven a web of lies to send me to hell. And my mother, who had once chosen me over everything, had decided that the "fragile" adopted daughter mattered more. I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask why. But the words died in the ashes of my heart. Nurses approached with antiseptic solution. "Miss Linley, since the specialist isn't here, we have to disinfect the wounds manually. This is going to burn." Burn wasn’t the word. As the liquid hit me, it felt like I was back in the apartment, the flames licking my bones. I thrashed, blood and pus staining the pristine sheets. My mother covered her mouth, sobbing into her hands. Roman gripped the bed rail, his knuckles white, eyes tearing up as if he felt every ounce of my pain. Their concern was Oscar-worthy. But I knew the truth. The love was fake. Only the pain was real. I woke up two days later. Roman and my mother were arguing in the corridor. "Roman, her condition is critical. We’ve delayed treatment for forty-eight hours. Are you seriously going to give her that experimental psych med?" "The doctors said the side effects aren't fully tested. It causes seizures. Loss of bladder control." Silence stretched for a few seconds before Roman’s voice cut through, decisive and cold. "Those side effects are exactly what I need. Tonight is Tess’s victory gala. Every major designer and editor will be there. Norah already looks like a monster; a little more humiliation won’t hurt. She needs to lose her dignity completely. Only when she’s truly humiliated will she stop trying to compete with Tess. After tomorrow, I’ll announce our wedding. That’s compensation enough." He paused, lowering his voice. "Mom, tell the specialists to wait at the villa. As soon as the gala ends, we treat Norah." My mother murmured her agreement. I stared at the ceiling tiles, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes, stinging the raw burns on my cheeks. The physical pain was blinding, but it was nothing compared to the hollow in my chest. They knew. They knew I was born sickly, that I had clawed my way into the modeling world with blood and sweat. It was my identity. My soul. And with a few casual sentences, they had decided to crush it. If I had known this was the price of their love, I would have stayed in the fire. The door pushed open. Roman walked in, his expression softening into that practiced tenderness. He held out two pills. "Norah, honey. I asked the doctor. This is a new painkiller. No side effects. It’ll help you sleep." I looked at the bright red capsules. They looked like drops of blood. "Roman," I rasped, my voice like grinding gravel. "It’s too bitter. I don't want it." He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then smiled, squeezing my hand on a patch of unburned skin. "Watching you suffer is killing me. Do you want to break my heart? Please, take it for me." He didn't wait for an answer. He pressed the pills against my lips, forcing them past my teeth. "Good girl. Let me help you." The bitterness dissolved on my tongue, choking me. Almost immediately, the room began to spin. Roman gripped my wrist. "Norah, tonight is Tess’s celebration. Her biggest wish is for you to be there. If you don't go, the press will say you’re jealous, that you can’t handle your sister's success..." "I'll go," I whispered. "Get my clothes." I knew there was no choice. Roman had scripted this entire evening. My mother walked in just in time to hear my surrender. Her face lit up. "Oh, my good girl. I knew you’d do the right thing." "After Tess’s party, I’ll plan the wedding myself. It will be perfect." I pulled my hand away from them. My heart was a stone in a frozen lake. The limousine pulled up to the estate. The moment I was helped out of the car, a wall of flashing lights blinded me. I reached for my mother’s hand in panic, but I grabbed only empty air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her guiding Tess away, shielding her, not sparing me a single glance. I kept my head down, clutching the brim of my hat, my body hidden in oversized clothes. "Miss Linley! Is it true you set fire to your own apartment because you were afraid your sister would beat you?" "Is it true you’re disfigured? Do you have no shame showing up here?" "Norah! Did you ruin your face because your sugar daddies weren't satisfied?" As the questions rained down, a reporter lunged forward and knocked the hat off my head. The crowd gasped. A collective intake of breath that sucked the air out of the night. My face—a map of raw, red meat and charred skin—was exposed to 4K lenses. "Oh my god. That’s disgusting." "I’m gonna be sick. She looks like a horror movie." My heart hammered against my ribs. Black spots danced in my vision. They didn't stop. Dozens of phones were raised, livestreaming my nightmare to the world. "Here she is, folks. The fallen angel, Norah Linley. Vicious, jealous, and now, getting exactly what she deserves. Let’s see the karma up close." Someone shoved me. I hit the pavement hard. The loose clothes tore. My arms, my thighs, my stomach—wrapped in gauze and oozing fluids—were laid bare. A guttural, animalistic sound tore from my throat. Then, the shaking started. My limbs jerked violently, beyond my control. I was convulsing, my back arching off the concrete. The reporter who had pushed me looked ecstatic. "She's having a seizure! Keep rolling! Zoom in on her face!" I could feel my eyes rolling back, foam gathering at the corners of my mouth. I was fully conscious, trapped in a body that was betraying me. I was a circus freak. A monster for their amusement. Then, the final blow. I felt a rush of warmth spread through my lower body. The sharp, acrid smell of urine cut through the night air. The shame was so absolute, so crushing, that I prayed for a heart attack. I wanted to die right there on the asphalt. Cameras flashed relentlessly at my stained clothes. I lay there like a broken doll, twitching in a puddle of my own waste. "What are you doing! Put the cameras down!" Roman roared, charging through the crowd. He grabbed a photographer's camera and smashed it onto the ground. "Get the hell out of here!" My mother rushed over with a coat, covering my trembling body, tears streaming down her face. "Security! Where is security? Why are these vultures here? You’re all fired!" Tess stood slightly behind them, covering her mouth in theatrical shock. "Oh my god, you guys are too much! How could you do this to my sister? You are not allowed to publish those photos of her wetting herself!" It was so transparent. So disgusting. If they wanted the trophy, if they wanted to give Tess every ounce of love in the world, I would have stepped aside. Why did they have to destroy me like this? My consciousness was fading. I felt Roman kneeling beside me, gripping my hand so tight it hurt. "Norah, baby, I’m sorry. I didn't protect you. I promise, from now on, no one will ever hurt you again. We’ll get married right away, okay?" I wanted to say no. But the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and I vomited red all over his pristine tuxedo. Roman’s pupils constricted. His face went chalk white. As the darkness took me, I heard him and my mother screaming for a doctor. "She was already in critical condition. The delay... plus the overdose of neuro-stimulants... her organs are failing. Survival rate is thirty percent." Roman’s voice cracked. "Fix her! If my wife dies, you all die with her!" A tear hit the back of my hand. "Norah, we promised forever. You can't leave me." My mother was begging the doctors. "Please, save my daughter. Take my life instead. Just save her." I closed my eyes, sinking into the void. Let me go, I thought. Just let me die. I didn't die. I woke up back in my room at the villa. voices drifted in from the hallway. "Mom, are you really going to transfer all of Dad's inheritance to me? Won't Norah be upset?" My mother’s voice was warm, indulgent. "She doesn't get to be upset. She’s marrying Roman; she’ll never need money. Tess, when your father died and I got leukemia... you were the one who gave me blood. You gave me your bone marrow. I swore then that you are the only daughter who matters." "Besides, the money isn't enough. I know you’ve always loved Roman. I’ve already spoken to him. With Norah’s... condition... she can’t carry a child. On their wedding night, you’ll take her place. You’ll give Roman his first heir." Tess giggled, a shy, sickly sweet sound. "I’ll do whatever you say, Mommy." The door opened. My mother froze when she saw my eyes were open. A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but she smoothed it over quickly. "Norah... since you heard, I won't lie. The Ward family needs an heir. But don't worry, your position as Mrs. Ward is secure..." "I agree," I said. My voice was a flat line. "I’m in no shape for a wedding. Let Tess stand in for me." My mother beamed. "Oh, Norah. You’ve finally grown up. You’re being so sensible." Tess walked in, glancing at my bandaged, ruined skin with open disgust. "Don't worry, big sister. I’ll take very good care of Roman for you." I turned my head to the wall. I couldn't bear to look at them. I just hoped that one day, when my mother learned the truth about who actually gave her that bone marrow, she wouldn't choke on her regret. The wedding was held at the villa. It was Tess’s idea. She wanted me to hear the music, to know exactly what she was stealing. But I underestimated her. She wasn't just a thief. She was a predator. She pushed open my bedroom door. She looked radiant in a custom couture gown, but her smile was a rictus of hate. "That fire should have finished the job, Norah. You’re like a cockroach." I was too tired to fight. "You won. You have everything. What else do you want?" She laughed. "I want you dead, obviously. Only when you're gone can I be the real Mrs. Ward." She pulled a silver lighter from her clutch and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the heavy velvet curtains. Fire. The blood drained from my face. My PTSD kicked in, paralyzing me. I tried to drag my broken body off the bed to stop her, but she slammed her heel into my ribs, kicking me back against the headboard. Then she ran to the door and started screaming. Roman burst in seconds later. He didn't look at me. He wrapped his arms around Tess. "Tess! What happened? Are you hurt?" My mother was right behind him. "Get her to the hospital! The baby!" There was no baby, but the panic was real. No one looked at me. No one saw the blood running down my forehead where Tess had kicked me. Tess buried her face in Roman’s chest, sobbing. "I just wanted to cheer Norah up... but she said... she said if she’s ruined, I should be too! She said she’d burn my face off! I was so scared..." Roman turned to me, his eyes blazing with hatred. "Are you insane? Tess came here out of kindness, and this is how you repay her? Look at yourself. You’re a monster, inside and out." My mother shook her head, her expression one of utter revulsion. "I knew you were jealous, but this? You tried to burn your sister? You don’t deserve to be my daughter. Getting burned was exactly what you deserved." They lifted Tess up and turned to leave. At the door, Roman glanced back at the fire climbing the curtains. He let out a cold laugh. "You like playing with fire so much? Enjoy it. Lock the door. No one opens it." "No!" I screamed, forcing the sound through my damaged throat. "It wasn't me! Roman, please!" The door slammed. The lock clicked. My mother hesitated in the hallway. "Roman... locking her in... is that safe?" "She started the fire; she obviously has an exit plan. She probably has an extinguisher hidden under the bed. She’s just manipulating us again." Roman carried Tess to the car, speeding toward the hospital. It wasn't until Tess was checked over and declared completely unharmed that he remembered me. He sighed, annoyed, and pulled out his phone. A news alert flashed on the screen: BREAKING: MASSIVE INFERNO AT WARD ESTATE. He frowned. Before he could dial, his phone rang. It was the house manager. "Let her out," Roman snapped. "I'm sending the car around. We're going on the honeymoon. Tell her I booked Paris." The manager’s voice was trembling, barely human. "Sir... the fire... it was too fast. We couldn't get to the door. The East Wing... it's gone. Mrs. Ward... she..."
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