As I rose from the A-lister’s bed, he held out a pair of torn silk stockings, his voice a low purr. “Put them on. So exquisite.” The moment my fingers brushed against the ruined silk, a series of messages flared in front of my eyes, sharp and clear as text on a screen. 【Heiress, throw them away! That bastard thinks torn stockings are trashy. He’d never let his angel wear them, so he’s conning you into it.】 【Tomorrow, at your mother’s funeral, he’s going to publicly announce he’s with her.】 【He’s a dog who only wants your money, Willow! For God’s sake, kick him to the curb!】 … Aidan Thorne knelt at my feet, a look of confusion on his perfect face. “What is it? Did I not rip them beautifully enough for you?” A slow smile spread across my lips. In one fluid motion, I wrapped the stocking tight around his neck. “Looking for a death wish?” 1 The face that had graced a thousand movie screens, the face that could withstand the unforgiving lens of a camera, instantly flushed a deep, desperate crimson. I held on, watching the life drain from his eyes until he was on the verge of blacking out. Only then did I release him. He stared at me, gasping, disbelief warring with fear in his eyes. I patted his cheek, my touch deceptively gentle. “You love only me?” Gulping down air, he looked up at me with an expression of pure, desperate devotion—the kind of look a man gives his savior. “Of course.” For a heartbeat, I was lost in a memory. I was ten, and my mother had taken me to an orphanage to sponsor children in need. I’d chosen ten of them, all little boys with faces as perfect as porcelain dolls. Aidan had been one of them. Two years ago, a leaked audition tape of him playing a young, ruthless king went viral. I was captivated. I sought him out, spent a fortune to make him mine, and mine alone. He always played the part of the obedient pet so well. I never imagined… Just as I was about to demand who his “angel” was, the phone rang. It was Benson, our butler. “Miss Sterling! The Mistress… she’s fading.” I dropped Aidan without a second thought, threw on my clothes, and floored it all the way home. I made it. Just in time to see my mother for the last time. My biological father, however, was nowhere to be seen. As the night deepened, I turned to Benson, my voice ice. “Is Alan Pierce dead in a ditch somewhere?” Benson bowed his head respectfully. “He is with a Miss Locke, ma’am. His usual haunt.” I gritted my teeth. “He can die, then.” “Miss Sterling,” Benson cautioned gently, “remember your mother’s final instructions.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “…Fine.” 2 After the funeral, I knelt before my mother’s casket in my mourning clothes, preparing for one last, private farewell. The doors burst open. Alan Pierce strode in, dragging a young woman with him. He looked down his nose at me. “Willow, this is your sister, Mariela. She’s a year older than you. From now on, she is the eldest daughter of this family. Do you understand?” My face was a mask of indifference. “A kept man should really learn to—” “Shut your mouth!” Alan yelped, cutting me off, his face panicked. He was terrified of his pathetic status being revealed in front of Mariela. A cold, sharp smile touched my lips. “Then take your bastard daughter and get out. Don’t disturb my mother’s peace.” “You insolent girl!” His words were sharp, but his actions were weak. He scurried out of the memorial hall with Mariela in tow. I returned to my vigil. Half an hour later, Benson appeared at my side, his voice a low murmur. “Miss Sterling, he’s hosting a party to introduce Miss Mariela to society. He couldn’t secure any prominent guests, of course, but he did manage to invite a few tabloid journalists with no scruples.” “Let him,” I said, my voice flat. Alan seemed to believe my mother was the great tree that sheltered me. With her gone, he thought he could finally control me, devour everything the Sterlings owned. He was so, so wrong. My mother wasn’t my shield. She was the rosary that restrained the devil in me. 3 Alan’s grand announcement that Mariela was his daughter did little more than create some fleeting gossip. No one in our circle acknowledged her. Thanks to Benson’s unyielding authority in the house, Mariela was relegated to the staff quarters. Frustrated, she took to bothering me at the memorial hall every single day. On the forty-ninth day, I decided I’d had enough of her buzzing. I let her in. She put on a mask of practiced sympathy. “Willow, I know you’re grieving, but it’s been forty-nine days. Your mother is gone. You need to move on. Come out, I want to talk to you.” Her foolishness was so transparent it was almost painful to watch. This was the illegitimate child Alan cherished so deeply? I walked past her, out of the hall. Mariela scrambled to follow. By the edge of the pool, I stopped and turned, standing on the top step of the patio, looking down at her. “Speak.” Mariela nervously clutched the hem of her dress, then stepped up onto the stair to meet my gaze. “Willow, Daddy only ever loved my mother. Now that he’s brought me into this house, it’s to replace you as the Sterling heiress. You’ve had the title for twenty-three years. You should be satisfied. Now, be a good girl and tell the butler and the staff to acknowledge me. Don't make a scene, understand?” I laughed. Did she truly not know that Alan Pierce was nothing more than a man who’d married into money? That he’d taken my mother’s name? And with that pathetic level of awareness, she thought she could usurp my position? The reality of her incompetence was so profound, it was just… boring. I couldn’t be bothered to entertain her any longer. I shoved her. Splash! Mariela flailed in the water, a storm of shrieks and clumsy struggles. “Willow, how dare you! Daddy will make you pay for this! Pull me up… ugh! Pull me up right now, and I… I might just forgive you!” I walked away without a backward glance. While waiting at a red light, I made a quick international call, then continued on my way to find Aidan. He hadn’t contacted me in forty-nine days. It was time for him to die. 4 At seven o’clock that evening, I made my entrance at a lavish, bustling wrap party. It didn't take me long to spot her. Mariela, dressed to the nines. She wore a Chanel 2025 Spring/Summer haute couture gown, Christian Louboutin custom heels, and a full set of the latest Tiffany & Co. jewels. Not a trace of the drenched rat I’d left in the pool earlier. And there was Aidan. Kneeling on one knee before her, he was gently massaging her ankle, which was faintly red. Mariela looked down at him, her cheeks flushed with a shy, pleased blush. So, Aidan’s precious angel was my dear, cheap half-sister. Two crew members nearby were whispering. “I always thought Aidan Thorne was so cold, so uninterested in women. I never knew he could be this tender with his girlfriend.” “Are you kidding? That’s the Sterling heiress. You see that couture? That’s probably more than our yearly salary, and she’ll likely wear it once and toss it.” … As I started towards them, one of the crew members stepped in my way. “This is a private wrap party for the film Femme Fatale. You’re not cast or crew. How did you get in?” My eyes locked on Aidan. “I’m here for him.” The other crew member immediately recoiled in disgust. “Oh, God, are you one of his stalkers? A stan? Get lost, you’re not welcome here.” “Aidan Thorne.” My voice cut through the noise of the party, clear and resonant. The entire room fell silent. Aidan looked up, his hand dropping from Mariela’s foot as if it were on fire. He stared at me, his face a canvas of pure shock. Mariela quickly slipped her shoe back on, looped her arm through his, and practically dragged him to stand before me. Aidan, so accustomed to groveling at my feet, couldn’t even meet my eyes. But Mariela, emboldened, flashed a pair of matching rings at me, a blatant declaration of war. “Little sister, I forgot to tell you. Aidan and I have been together for years. He was mine long before he was yours. I’m taking him to meet Daddy in a few days. We’re getting married.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. During the years I’d poured my resources into making him a star, I had asked him to marry me. He’d told me to wait. Wait until he was an international superstar, and he would propose to me on a global live broadcast. And I, like a fool, had actually believed him. Mariela leaned in close, her voice a triumphant, vicious whisper. “Does that hurt? Oh, Willow, this is just the beginning. I’m going to make everyone remember that I am the true Sterling heiress. And you? You won’t even be worthy of shining my shoes.” RIIIP! I grabbed the front of her gown and tore it open. She shrieked, clutching the fabric to her chest. “Willow, what are you doing! Why would you tear my dress? This is the latest collection, it’s priceless!” I smiled faintly. “I’m just tearing up the dress the brand sent me. What’s the problem?” Terrified I would expose her for stealing my clothes and jewelry in front of everyone, she squeezed out a few tears, playing the victim. “Willow… first you push me in the pool, and now you humiliate me like this… We’re sisters, not enemies…” Her tear-streaked face was a picture of pitiful innocence. It did nothing for me, but it broke Aidan’s heart. He shrugged off his blazer and wrapped it around Mariela’s shoulders, his brow furrowed as he turned on me. “Willow, must you do this? Are you trying to kill her?” My eyebrow arched in amusement. “I’m simply reclaiming what belongs to me from a common thief. How is that trying to kill her? Or did you find some cheap tramp to entertain you because I was too busy mourning my mother to grant you my favors?” Aidan’s face hardened. “Mariela is not a thief, she is not a tramp, and she is certainly not a toy. She is the woman I have loved for ten years, and my girlfriend of three.” “And what was I?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. Mariela tightened her grip on his hand. He squeezed back, finding his courage, and finally met my gaze. “You were a mistake. Willow, we’re over.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393341", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel