While other children played, I was forged into a weapon for my mother's revenge. A scorned heiress who fled her wedding after stabbing her mob-boss groom, her love for him curdled into a bottomless hatred after he left her. My sole purpose, she said, was to reclaim her lost fortune. A prodigy with a photographic memory, I was drilled in finance, high-society etiquette, and how to charm her powerful new fiancé, Lucas Thorne. After eight years of planning, we succeeded. In a boardroom, my childish voice recited a tampered will, winning back her hundred-million-dollar inheritance. I looked to her, yearning for praise. Instead, coolly looping her arm through Lucas's, she told the butler, "Send Lucy to boarding school." I didn't cry. My gaze fell to her stomach, knowing a new child would soon receive all the love I never had, while I was left to rot. 1 The butler was packing my suitcase in my room, his movements efficient and cold. "Your mother has given strict orders. You are to remain upstairs. Do not, under any circumstances, go down and ruin her engagement party with Mr. Thorne." From the grand hall below, the gentle strains of a waltz and ripples of laughter drifted up. I pressed my face to the crack in the door, watching them, mesmerized. Beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, my mother and Uncle Lucas were dancing. The smile on her face was a radiant, joyful thing I had never seen before. On instinct, my bare feet began to trace the steps on the wooden floor, as if I, too, had been invited to the ball. Suddenly, the door creaked open. A boy about my age peered in, his eyes wide with curiosity. "It's way more fun downstairs! Come on!" He was strong. Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room, dragging me to the top of the grand staircase. In an instant, every head in the ballroom turned. A hundred pairs of eyes, followed by a blinding barrage of camera flashes, zeroed in on me. "Who's that little girl with the Thorne boy?" "She looks just like Ms. Astor, doesn't she?" The reporters, smelling a story, swarmed the base of the stairs. Microphones were thrust towards my face. "Young lady, who are you to Ms. Astor?" "Why has she been hiding you?" "There are rumors Ms. Astor has an illegitimate child. Is that you?" My mother’s face went deathly pale. Lucas's brow furrowed into a sharp, displeased line. I froze, paralyzed by the attention. The flashbulbs were like whips lashing at my face. The reporters’ questions grew sharper, more relentless. "Ms. Astor fled her wedding ten years ago. Could this girl be the result of that affair?" "Is Mr. Thorne really raising his rival's child?" Lucas immediately wrapped a protective arm around my mother. "Get this child out of here," he commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't even look at me. He just glared at the butler. "Now." I was roughly dragged back to my room and the door slammed shut. The butler snarled, "You little monster." He pulled a thin sewing needle from his pocket. "Just like your deadbeat mobster father. You just can't stand to see your mother happy, can you?" He pricked my fingertip, a sharp sting of pain. I cried out, struggling, but the sight of the tiny bead of blood sent a wave of terror through me. My vision swam, and the world went black. I don’t know how long I was out. When I came to, I could hear muffled, angry voices from the next room. "If she dares to pull a stunt like that today, she'll dare to ruin everything for me tomorrow!" my mother shrieked. "I don't care, Lucas! I want her gone by morning. I can't stand to have her here for one more day!" Uncle Lucas was silent. My mother's voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Lucas, you waited eight years for me! Eight years! Now that we're finally together, are you going to let her destroy our happiness? Don't you understand? Every time I look at her, I'm reminded of how I betrayed you. It's driving me insane!" I pushed myself up, my body trembling, my fingernails digging into the wall. I prayed, begged to a god I didn't believe in, for him to say no. A moment later, I heard Uncle Lucas sigh. 2 "If you're sure," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Then send her away." I collapsed against the cold wood of the door, my heart a stone in my chest. I could hear my mother weeping softly into his shoulder. "Don't cry," Lucas soothed. "You know what the doctor said. A mother's stress isn't good for the baby." Her sobs slowly subsided, replaced by a laugh that sounded unnervingly light. "You're right. We're going to have a perfect, angelic baby. Nothing like that little demon." That last word lodged itself in my throat, a shard of glass that made it hard to breathe. "What are you doing, skulking in the dark and eavesdropping?" I spun around. My grandmother stood there, leaning on a rhino-horn cane, her eyes cold and hard. She looked like a witch from a fairy tale. Terrified, I scrambled back into my room and locked the door. The next morning, the butler broke the lock and dragged me out of bed, throwing me onto the cold marble floor of the living room. The remnants of last night's party were still there—discarded ribbons tangled on the floor, half-empty glasses on a long table draped in purple silk. My stomach clenched with a mixture of fear and hunger. A group of adults entered the room, ignoring me completely. My grandmother pointed at me with her cane. "The car is waiting. Get your things and go." My mother, clinging to Lucas's arm, let her gaze sweep past me as if I were invisible. "Just looking at her," she murmured, "makes my stomach turn." Lucas patted her hand comfortingly. "Then don't look. Let's take a walk in the garden." They turned to leave. Not one of them had spoken a single word to me. I clutched the little rag doll I had spent all night sewing, my nails digging into my palms. "Mother," I called out, my voice barely a whisper. "I have something for you." She stopped, an annoyed frown creasing her perfect brow. Lucas hesitated, then stepped forward and took the small doll from my hand. "It's me," I said softly. "So it can keep you company when I'm not here." My mother's expression twisted in horror. She snatched the doll from Lucas's hand and threw it violently to the floor. She stomped on it with the pointed toe of her designer heel, grinding it into the marble, her composure completely shattered. My grandmother slammed her cane on the floor. "Are you trying to upset her on purpose?" she hissed. "She'll have a new baby soon. She doesn't need you anymore!" My heart felt like it was being torn in two. Tears streamed silently down my face. Still, I clung to one last, desperate hope. I looked toward the dining room. "Mother, can I have a piece of cake?" I asked. "You promised… you promised that when your plan succeeded, you'd throw me a birthday party. With singing and dancing and lots of people…" "I thought… I thought that was yesterday." Her eyes met mine, and she flinched as if burned, turning to flee. At that exact moment, one of the estate's guard dogs, a massive, startled wolfhound, burst into the room, snarling as it charged directly at her. Without a second thought, I threw myself in front of her. The dog’s teeth sank deep into my arm. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. My mother stared, frozen, at my arm, at the blood pouring from the wound. Her voice trembled. "Why?" I gasped for breath against the searing pain. "Mother… I remember you're afraid of dogs." For a fleeting second, I saw something soften in her eyes. She even started to raise a hand toward me. "Butler! What are you standing there for?" my grandmother shrieked. "Get this girl out of here! Don't let the sight of her upset your mother any further!" She glared at me as if I were the vicious animal that had just attacked. My mother seemed hesitant. Grandmother seized her arm. "What did you promise me?" she whispered fiercely. "If you keep this little beast around, you could lose everything you have now. Is it worth it?" It was as if a switch had been flipped. My mother looked at me, and the flicker of warmth in her eyes was instantly extinguished, freezing over into a sheet of ice. I reached out with my uninjured hand, a futile gesture towards her retreating back, desperate for a hug that would never come. The next thing I knew, Uncle Lucas was scooping me up. He carried me to the car and buckled me in, then drove away at high speed. When I woke up, I wasn't at a hospital. I was in front of a cold, iron gate bearing a sign: SACRED HEART BOARDING SCHOOL. 3 Lucas was inside, signing paperwork with the headmaster. When he saw I was awake, his voice was gentle but distant. "They've given you the vaccine shots. Don't be afraid." "Study hard here," he continued. "When you're grown up, I'll come get you. I'll arrange a good marriage for you." The headmaster stood beside him, his face wreathed in a sycophantic smile. "Don't you worry, Mr. Thorne. We'll take care of Miss Lucy as if she were our own daughter!" As soon as the car disappeared down the drive, a young teacher standing nearby scoffed. "Mr. Thorne is so handsome and kind. He and Ms. Astor are a match made in heaven." Her gaze fell on me, dripping with contempt. "A pity, really. A sparrow will always be a sparrow." "Dreaming of being a Thorne?" she sneered. "Pathetic." I never had a dream like that. All I ever wanted was to be my mother's daughter. It was as simple, and as impossible, as that. A month later, I was a legend at Sacred Heart. I aced every test, skipped grade after grade. The headmaster, giddy with excitement, called my mother to share the good news. Her voice on the other end was cold and impatient. "She was doing university-level work at eight. I sent her there for peace and quiet, not for academic reports. There's no one here to look after her." The headmaster's smile froze on his face. I reached for the phone, desperate to hear her voice, but then she said, "I can't talk, I have a prenatal appointment." The line went dead. The headmaster put the phone down, and the warmth in his eyes vanished completely. His fat hand came to rest on my head, then began to slide slowly downward, his smile turning greasy. "A child with no mother's love… but so smart and pretty. I hear your mother is a great beauty. You're turning into one yourself…" I stiffened, rooted to the spot in horror. Just as his hand was about to touch the collar of my uniform, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. It was Jayce, the school's resident troublemaker. He had a blade of grass hanging from his lips. "Hey, old man," he said, his voice a lazy drawl. "What's going on? You hear the sirens? I think the cops are here." The headmaster snatched his hand back as if he'd been electrocuted, his face a mask of panic. Jayce seized the opportunity, grabbing my wrist. "She's with me. We're leaving." Without another word, he pulled me out of the office and we ran. We ran all the way to the grassy hill behind the school, not stopping until our lungs burned and we collapsed onto the ground. The sun was blinding. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started to cry, my sobs tearing through me. "My mom's having a new baby," I wailed. "I won't have a mother anymore." Jayce let out a short, bitter laugh, pillowing his head on his arms as he stared at the sky. "Is that all? Who here has a family? We're all just castoffs." His words were like an icicle piercing my heart, freezing me to the core. After that, my life at the school took a nosedive. Even the cafeteria ladies went out of their way to torment me, giving me a glass of mango juice and telling me it was banana. Soon after I drank it, my throat began to swell. I couldn't breathe. An angry red rash broke out all over my skin. Jayce found me, threw me on his back, and sprinted to the infirmary. The school nurse examined me and said slowly, "The imported medicine works best, but it costs extra." Jayce turned to me. "Got any money?" It was only then that I remembered the massive "living allowance" Uncle Lucas had provided. It had been transferred directly into the headmaster's account. I didn't have a single penny. Jayce swore under his breath. He yanked the gold chain from his neck and tossed it to the nurse. She weighed it in her palm before grudgingly fetching the medication. As I lay weakly on the cot, I whispered, "Jayce, I'll pay you back someday. I promise." He leaned against the wall, a smirk on his face. "Focus on staying alive first." When the nurse came to give me the shot, Jayce instinctively turned away. As he did, the collar of his shirt shifted. I caught a glimpse of his neck and the top of his back—a crisscrossing map of angry, raised scars, some old and faded, some terrifyingly new. His life wasn't any easier than mine. The nurse, tidying up, suddenly remembered something. "Oh, by the way," she said casually, "it's time for her rabies booster shot." Before the words were even fully out of her mouth, Jayce exploded. He lunged across the room, grabbed the nurse by her collar, and slammed her against the wall. "What the hell did you just say?" he snarled, his eyes blazing with a fury that made her stammer and beg for mercy. "Are you telling me those people didn't even leave her money for a damn vaccine?" After he dragged me out of the infirmary, Jayce had calmed down a little. His voice held a strange, self-mocking tone. "Scared you, huh? My family said I might have that super-male gene, you know? Said I was born bad. So they wrote me out of the inheritance and dumped me here to rot." He said it so casually, as if he were talking about someone else. A few days later, two police officers came and took Jayce away. The headmaster followed behind them, a triumphant, ugly grin stretching from ear to ear.
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