At the Grand Jewel Gala, my competition piece was swapped with a stolen antique. I was arrested on the spot and sentenced to five years in prison. For one thousand, eight hundred days, I counted the slivers of light that pierced my cell window, enduring inhuman torment. The day I was released, my husband, Lucas, and our son came to pick me up. He gently draped his coat over my shoulders. My son, his eyes red-rimmed, threw himself into my arms. In that moment, I thought my suffering was finally over. At least I still had them. Until I received a video. My ten-year-old son was looking up at his father, his voice clear and innocent. "Dad, I helped Aunt Iris win the award by switching Mom's design. Is she happy?" "But Mom was in prison for five years. People stare at her everywhere, and the kids at school make fun of me…" Lucas's hand rested heavily on his son's head. "This," he said, his voice grave, "is something you must take to your grave. Never speak of it again." "It's your mother's fault for being so selfish. Your Aunt Iris grew up with nothing. Do you know how much that award meant to her? Your mother has everything, yet she still had to compete. She deserved what she got." My heart felt as if it had been torn in two. The living hell I had endured for five years had been orchestrated by the people I loved most. 1 "Don't worry, Dad. I've been playing my part perfectly all these years. That stupid woman has no idea." "In a couple of days, after Aunt Iris's birthday party, we can finally be a real family." Lucas's voice was tinged with concern. "You still need to be careful. Don't let your guard down around her. We need her at Iris's party." "Your grandfather is going to publicly announce her as the second daughter of the Sinclair family. Your mother has to be there. Otherwise, the gossip will all fall on Iris. With her there as a shield, Iris will be spared some of the backlash." My son, however, was nonchalant. "You're here, Dad. Who would dare to say anything?" "Michael!" "Fine, fine, I'll do what you say! I'll go tell her. It's an honor for her to even be invited." "If it weren't for Iris, would a convict, an ex-con, even be worthy of being my mother?" I stared at the image of the tall, proud boy on the screen. His face was etched with a contempt I didn't recognize. This was not the child who used to sleep peacefully in my arms. Every word from their mouths was alien to me. Five years ago, I was arrested on the day of the competition. For five long years, one thousand, eight hundred days, I suffered unspeakable abuse. By the time I was released, my own mother had died from depression, and my father had publicly disowned me in the papers. Everywhere I went, people pointed and whispered. Even the household staff treated me with disdain. When I stood on the roof, ready to jump, it was my husband and son who gently coaxed me down. They told me they believed I was innocent, that they would fight to clear my name. When others sneered at me, they stood in front of me, defending me. I saw them as the light that had pierced the darkness of my life. I gave them everything I had. And now, I learned that my five years of agony were nothing more than a sacrifice to pave the way for a charity case my family had sponsored. Tears flooded my vision, blurring the screen of my phone. I had thought they were my rock, my support. It was all just their pity, a handout after they had used me up and thrown me away. I scrambled to hide my phone, curling up in the study like a wounded animal. The first thing I saw was a row of dolls on Lucas's desk. They were exquisitely crafted, each with a small beauty mark under its eye, a perfect replica of the one Iris had. Lucas was a world-renowned luxury designer. His custom dolls were priceless, sought after by collectors everywhere. After we were married, I had asked him to make one for me, but he always said he was too busy. I couldn't get a single one, yet he had made a whole collection for Iris. It wasn't that he didn't have time. It was that I wasn't worth his time. Each of Iris's dolls had a bright, smiling face. I clutched the one in my hand so tightly I thought it would shatter. Because my husband cherished her, she became the dazzling new star of the jewelry world. And I became a pariah, a convict everyone despised. That evening, the father and son returned. Michael, my son, called out "Mom!" with his usual affection. Lucas held a box of my favorite pastries. These scenes, which once warmed my heart, now sent a chill through my entire body. The next day, after they had left, I went out as well. I took a cab to a remote athletic club and found the locker I had hoped I would never have to use. I entered the code and placed a single letter inside. It contained only three words. "I was wrong." He had once told me that if I ever regretted my choice, he would come for me immediately. When the cab dropped me back at the house, I saw Lucas and Iris standing by the gate, with Michael trailing behind them. Michael was chattering animatedly, and Iris was bent over with laughter. Lucas was smiling indulgently. The sound of the car door closing startled them. The smiles froze on their faces. My eyes were drawn to the crown on Iris's head. My brow furrowed. A flicker of unease crossed Lucas's face. He quickly explained, "It's Iris's birthday party tonight. She didn't have any suitable jewelry, so I lent her this crown for the evening." Iris, her almond-shaped eyes crinkling, covered her mouth with a delicate hand and giggled. "It was so thoughtful of Lucas. He saw I had nothing valuable to wear and brought this for me to use in a pinch." "Don't worry, Thea," she said, her voice syrupy sweet. "I'll return it as soon as the party is over." Their intertwined hands were a glaring white in the sunlight. A sharp pain pierced my chest, making every breath an agony. Since my release, Lucas had forbidden me from attending any social events, large or small. We never appeared in public together. He always said it was to protect me from the gossip. I had naively believed he was looking out for me. Now I knew the truth. He just didn't want to be tainted by his convict wife. Seeing my silence, Lucas pressed on. "This crown is just gathering dust with you anyway. Why not give it to Iris? She needs these things to build her image right now." "Lucas, do you have any idea what you're saying?" I heard my own voice tremble. This crown had been custom-made by a famous designer for our wedding. It had caused a sensation at the time, featured in fashion magazines around the world. I had worn it only once, on our wedding day. The rest of the time, it was kept in a glass case, meticulously cared for. This crown was the symbol of the lady of the house. By giving it to Iris, what did that make me, his lawfully wedded wife? Noticing my darkening expression, Lucas quickly changed the subject. "Alright, it's just a piece of jewelry. Don't make a fuss. It's Iris's birthday party tonight. You should come, too." Michael chimed in, taking my hand. "Mom, please come. It's been so long since we went out together." The images from the video flashed in my mind. A cold dread spread through me, but my expression remained as still as a frozen lake. "I'm a convict. My presence would only bring shame upon you." Iris, however, linked her arm through mine. "Sister, you shouldn't say that. We're family, after all. Besides, you haven't seen Father since you've been out." At the mention of my father, I hesitated. After a long silence, I finally agreed. Lucas and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. The driver pulled up in Lucas's custom luxury sedan. Lucas smoothly opened the door for Iris. When I moved to get in, Iris smiled sweetly. "Sister, my dress is so large. Maybe it would be better if you took another car?" Lucas, in the passenger seat, frowned. "It's Iris's birthday. We have to be careful with the dress. I'll call you a car." "No need." I turned and walked away before he could finish. Lucas seemed taken aback, but Iris's voice pulled his attention back. "Let's go, Lucas. We're going to be late." The hesitation on his face vanished. "Let's go," he told the driver. The car sped away. It turned out that all the family drivers were suddenly "unavailable." I, the lady of a wealthy household, couldn't even get a car. Our villa was in a secluded suburb with no taxi service. As dusk fell, I had no choice but to start walking. A heavy rain began to fall. By the time I arrived at the party, drenched to the bone, it had been going for some time. Lucas and Iris stood side by side, their faces wreathed in smiles, a perfect picture of a happy couple. My father stood nearby, nodding with a pleased expression. The air was filled with the murmurs of guests, praising them as a match made in heaven. Meanwhile, I was stopped by security at the door, my dress dripping, looking like a drowned rat. The commotion at the entrance caught my father's attention. He strode over, his face grim, and his words were a brutal, public lashing. "Who told you to come here?" "This is your sister's birthday party. Have you no shame?" "A common criminal. If I were you, I would have killed myself by now. If you had any decency, you would divorce him and let them be happy." "I have already announced today that Iris is my daughter. Why are you still clinging to Lucas?" "Dad, I am Lucas's lawfully wedded wife!" I cried out. "Iris is nothing but a charity case our family sponsored! How can she be your daughter?" CRACK. A sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek, making my ears ring. I had become the center of a spectacle. "You animal!" my father roared. Iris flinched and scurried into Lucas's arms like a frightened rabbit. And my son, who usually showered me with affection, now refused to even look at me, his small body a stubborn shield in front of Iris. "You're a convict. What right do you have to question me?" my father spat. "If you had half of Iris's sense, you would have died in prison instead of embarrassing us here!" The crowd of guests gathered around, some even pulling out their phones to record. I covered my burning cheek, overwhelmed by a crushing wave of humiliation. Lucas looked uneasy. "Father…" he began. "Lucas, Mr. Sterling is here. We should go greet him," Iris murmured. "But…" "Thea is Dad's daughter. He won't hurt her." Lucas hesitated, but in the end, he let Iris lead him away. He wrapped an arm around her, protecting her, and walked back into the crowd without a second glance. I stood alone, trembling under the mocking gazes of the guests. My own child, the one I had cared for day and night, didn't even pause. He shot me a look of pure disgust and hurried after Iris. Finally, I broke, fleeing from the laughter and the scorn. My father's curses followed me. "You reap what you sow! You care about your pride now? It's too late!" As I hid in a quiet corner of the hotel, weeping, Iris found me. Her face was alight with triumph, her eyes filled with mockery. "Thea Sinclair. How does it feel to have everything taken from you?" "Did you enjoy the five years in prison I gifted you? All I had to do was shed a single tear, and your precious son switched out your design for you."
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