Chapter 1Five years ago, Celia Fairborne was in a devastating car accident while trying to save her family, leaving her in a coma.
Five years later, when she finally woke up, her world had been turned upside down.
Her parents and brother had taken in an adopted daughter—Mireya Quinn. They showered Mireya with affection, and even Aurelian Graves, Celia's childhood sweetheart and fiancé, seemed completely captivated by her.
"We brought Mireya home because she reminded us so much of you," they explained. "Having her around… it kinda made us feel like we hadn’t lost all of you."
But Celia couldn’t take it anymore—she flat-out demanded they get Mireya out of the house.
Then tragedy struck. On the way to take Mireya to her new placement, their car crashed. Her parents and Mireya were killed instantly.
From that moment on, her brother Silas Fairborne and Aurelian's love for Celia turned to bitter hatred.
“Three people are dead because of you!” they snapped. “All because of your stupid, jealous pride! They’d still be here if you hadn’t pushed them away!”
They tormented her, made her pay for what they saw as her cruelty. And she accepted it all, believing she deserved their punishment.
Three years of their abuse left her broken in every way imaginable. Then came the final blow—stage four cancer. Dr. Morrow delivered the verdict: she had less than a month to live.
But as she wandered through Manhattan in a daze, she passed by the windows of an upscale hotel restaurant and froze.
There, gathered around a table, were her supposedly dead parents, Silas, and Aurelian—celebrating Mireya's birthday. Mireya sat there wearing a tiara, glowing like a princess.
Celia stood outside, thunderstruck.
Before she could process what she was seeing, she heard Aurelian's voice: "She’s had it rough enough already. Like, are we seriously still doing this?"
Silas chuckled, cutting into his steak. "Let’s give it till her birthday next month. A bit more misery might finally get her head straight—maybe then she won’t be so quick to shove Mireya out."
Her mother Millicent sighed, though she didn't sound particularly sympathetic. "She’s just too stubborn. Sometimes, tough love’s the only thing that gets through to people."
His father Conrad raised his wine glass with satisfaction. "Well, looks like our little act did the trick. No way she’ll go after Mireya again after this."
Celia stood frozen in the shadows, her whole body going numb the second she heard those words.
It was all a lie.
They weren't dead. They had orchestrated an elaborate hoax—faking their own deaths just to break her spirit and force her to accept Mireya.
The bitter irony wasn't lost on her.
Her own parents, her brother, and Aurelian—the man who had promised to love her forever—had played the cruelest game imaginable, all for the sake of their precious adopted daughter.
But they didn't know the truth.
They planned to "resurrect" themselves in a month, expecting a tearful reunion and her grateful acceptance of Mireya.
She'd be dead long before they could end their twisted charade.
The scene inside was warm and joyful, but Celia couldn't stomach another second of it. She stumbled away from the hotel, her mind flooded with three years of nightmares.
Every single day for three years, she'd lived with crushing guilt. She'd wake up screaming from dreams of that burning car, of her parents crying for help in the flames, of Mireya's terror-filled eyes staring back at her.
So she'd never said no to their punishments. She took everything Aurelian and Silas threw at her, believing she deserved it all.
She let Aurelian wrap his hands around her throat night after night, hissing "You killed them" as she gasped for air.
She endured Silas forcing her to kneel in the memorial hall for three straight days and nights.
She wrote "I'm sorry" thousands of times until her fingers bled raw—because they demanded it.
And it was all a lie. Every last bit of it.
She barely made it home before collapsing, blood spattering across the entryway. In the bathroom, she hunched over the toilet as blood and tears poured out of her. Her hands shook as she dry-swallowed painkillers, and she'd barely managed to clean up the mess when the door slammed open.
"I called you a hundred times. What is this? Playing dead to get sympathy?" Silas stood in the doorway, his face cold as stone. "Trying to skip out on today's penance?"
Aurelian appeared behind him, frowning. "What the hell are you doing on the floor?"
Celia didn't answer. She just looked up at them with hollow eyes. "What do you want me to atone for today?"
The two men exchanged a look. "Head over to the north side," Aurelian said with casual indifference. "Pick up some osmanthus cakes for Raya."
Celia let out a bitter laugh.
Raya... Raya Quinn.
The woman Aurelian and Silas had brought home a month after "Mireya's death" was the spitting image of Mireya. Back then, Celia had been naive enough to think they'd found some look-alike to help with their grief.
Now she understood.
What replacement? It was Mireya all along—they didn’t even bother hiding it. Just slapped a new name on her and called it a day.
"Fine. I'll go."
Celia was too drained to fight anymore. She was dying anyway—what was the point?
The osmanthus cake shop on the north side meant a two-hour wait. She stood there swaying in the blazing sun, black spots dancing across her vision.
First trip back: "These are stone cold."
Second trip: "Way too sweet."
Third trip: "The shape looks awful."
By the seventh trip, she finally got the "perfect" cakes, only to get sideswiped by a scooter on the way home. The rider took off, leaving her to drag her bleeding legs back to the house.
"Your osmanthus cakes." Celia held out the bag to Raya.
"Blood!" Raya opened the box and let out a piercing scream. "There's blood all over them!"
Aurelian and Silas came running. The second they appeared, Raya threw herself into their arms, tears streaming. "Aurelian! Silas! If she didn't want to get them for me, she could've just said so! Why did she have to ruin them with blood to mess with me?"
Both men's expressions turned murderous after seeing the bloodstained cakes,.
"Did you do this on purpose?" Aurelian's voice was deadly quiet.
Celia slumped against the wall, her legs still throbbing from the hit-and-run. "No... I got hit by a scooter on the way back. The blood just got on them."
"Hit by a scooter?" Silas let out a cold laugh and strode over. "Do I look stupid to you? If you'd actually been in an accident, you wouldn't be standing here talking."
He grabbed her wrist roughly. "Since you love making up stories, let's make this one real. James, Cole—get her outside. Now."
The two bodyguards seized Celia by the arms and dragged her out like dead weight. Her knees scraped raw against the stone path, but no one gave a damn.
On the back lawn, Aurelian and Silas were already in their black Maybach, engine growling like a beast ready to pounce.
"Aurelian... Silas..." she struggled to stand. "I'm not lying—"
The car was already speeding toward her.
BANG!
Pain exploded through every bone in her body. Celia went flying like a ragdoll, hitting the grass yards away. Blood poured from her mouth as consciousness slipped away.
When she finally came to, the sharp smell of antiseptic filled her nose. She cracked her eyes open, the harsh hospital lights making her head pound.
"How is there so much blood?" Aurelian's voice carried from the hallway, tight with something that might have been panic. "We barely touched her!"
"I know," Silas sounded shaken. "We pulled back at the last second."
Dr. Morrow's weary voice cut through their confusion. "The patient is in end-stage cancer. The disease has metastasized throughout her body. An impact like that... you've essentially fast-tracked her death."
Chapter 2
Celia's heart twisted into knots.
She'd been trying to hide her diagnosis, but now the doctor had let everything slip. She clutched the bedsheet until her knuckles went white, and a spark of desperate hope flickered in her chest.
Now that they knew, what would happen?
Would they regret what they'd done? Would they finally care?
Would they hold her close like before and whisper "Everything's gonna be okay, Celia" the way they used to?
"Ring ring—"
A phone call cut through the moment, interrupting the doctor completely.
Aurelian picked up, and Raya's voice came through, thick with tears: "Aurelian, I hurt myself... it's really bad..."
His face drained of color. "I'm on my way!"
Both men bolted past the doctor without a backward glance. "Get her whatever she needs," Silas shouted over his shoulder. "Top-shelf meds, private care—just fix her up."
They were already racing down the hall toward their precious Raya like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The doctor started to call after them, but they'd vanished around the corner. He rubbed his forehead and turned back to Celia with weary eyes. "Miss Fairborne... your cancer is quite advanced. We really should discuss treatment options, and soon."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not sure your family caught what I was saying out there. Maybe... maybe you should fill them in? Help them understand how serious this is? They might want to, you know... be here for you."
Celia let out a hollow laugh, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "Don't bother."
"They've got more important things to worry about."
He looked like he might argue, but eventually said nothing. He left without a word.
...
The following days were hell. Her painkillers barely touched the agony anymore, leaving her curled up in that hospital bed, drenched in cold sweat.
That's when her phone rang.
"Come on, it’s just a scratch. How long are you planning to milk this?" Silas's voice was ice-cold. "You've got debts to pay. Get your ass home."
Celia's hand shook as she held the phone.
She knew exactly what they wanted—more opportunities to break her down piece by piece.
Fine by her.
She was actually curious to see how they'd react when their little torture game finally killed her.
She checked herself out, grabbed a bottle of the strongest painkillers they'd give her, and headed back to that house of horrors.
But the second she walked through the front door, the staff cornered her.
"Miss Fairborne, we have orders from Mr. Graves and Mr. Silas. Hospital stays can be... unsanitary. For Miss Quinn's protection, you'll need to go through decontamination first."
Before she could protest, they grabbed her arms and hurled her straight into the chemical bath.
"AHHHHH!"
The disinfectant hit her open wounds. Celia's body went into violent spasms, blood pouring from her injuries and staining the water crimson.
The staff freaked out and ran screaming for backup.
Aurelian arrived to find Celia barely conscious, her face chalk-white and covered in sweat, her lips torn and bloody from biting down on the pain.
His pupils dilated in shock, and he instinctively reached out to pull her from the water.
"Don't." Silas caught his wrist, voice deadly quiet. "You know what we agreed."
Aurelian's hand froze mid-air.
"I get it—you still have feelings for her," Silas held his gaze steadily. "But we're almost done here."
"She needs to learn once and for all, or she'll just go after Mireya again the second we bring everyone back."
His voice softened just a fraction. "Look, she's my sister too. This isn't easy for me either. But we're doing this for Mireya."
Aurelian's fingers trembled, but slowly, he pulled his hand back.
Celia floated in the bloody water, watching their retreating figures through blurred vision.
How ironic.
She was dying, and they were still worried about what she might do to Mireya in the future.
...
They left her in that toxic pool all night. At dawn, the staff finally pulled her out and dumped her in her room like garbage.
Celia curled up on her bed, shaking with pain.
When she could finally move again, she dragged herself up and started gathering her belongings.
Since she was going to die anyway, she wanted to go cleanly. She didn't want to leave any trace of herself in this house.
That way, in her next life, she'd never have to see them again.
She pulled out photos, journals, gifts Aurelian had given her over the years...
One by one, she fed them to the flames.
The fire devoured her memories along with what little life she had left.
That's when someone kicked open her door.
Chapter 3
"What are you burning?" Raya stood in the doorway, her eyes cold as ice.
Celia didn't even look up, calmly tossing another photo into the flames. "None of your business."
Raya clicked over in her heels, looming over her. "What’s with the attitude? Come on, Still think you’re some kind of Fairborne princess?"
The firelight danced across Raya's perfectly made-up face, twisting her features into something ugly. "Let me spell it out for you, Celia—you're nobody now. Just a pathetic little punching bag."
Raya kicked the fire bowl over hard.
CRASH!
Burning papers scattered everywhere, sparks catching on old curtains piled nearby. Flames shot up instantly.
"You—!" Celia lunged to smother the fire, but Raya shoved her back.
The blaze spread fast, smoke filling the room in seconds.
"Fire! Someone help!" The staff's panicked voices echoed from downstairs, but it was already too late to stop.
Heat waves rolled over them. Celia choked on the thick smoke, her vision going hazy. She stumbled toward the door, but Raya grabbed her wrist.
"Going somewhere?"
"Let go..." Celia struggled weakly. "We're gonna die in here..."
Raya's smile was sickly sweet. "Then let's die together."
The door exploded open.
Aurelian and Silas rushed in looking shaken, but the second they saw Raya, they visibly relaxed.
"What the hell happened?" Silas pulled Raya into his arms protectively. "How the hell did it catch fire?"
Raya's eyes filled with tears, pointing at Celia. "She completely lost it! Started burning all of Mireya's things, and when I tried to stop her, she set the whole room on fire!"
"I didn't..." Celia shook her head weakly, but the smoke made it impossible to speak.
Aurelian's expression went arctic. He stormed over and yanked Celia up by the wrist. "Seriously, Celia? I thought you'd grown up. But three years later and you're still the same petty, vindictive bitch."
Celia tried to speak, but no words came out.
Her vision was fading when she heard Silas's cold command:
"Lock her in the oven. Maybe some time to think will straighten her out."
The bodyguards dragged Celia to the kitchen and shoved her into the preheated industrial oven. The moment they opened the door, scorching heat hit her like a wall. They forced her inside, and the burning metal seared her skin with a sickening sizzle.
"AHHHHH!"
Her screams echoed through the kitchen as her skin felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand red-hot needles. Sweat barely had time to form before it evaporated.
She pounded frantically on the door, but no one outside cared.
Her consciousness started slipping, and memories flashed before her eyes.
Aurelian as a kid, holding her hand and promising he'd always protect her.
Silas carrying her on his back for blocks when she had a fever.
Her parents singing "Happy Birthday" with genuine smiles...
Those moments had been real. Someone had loved her once.
So when did they all fall in love with someone else instead?
The agony was beyond words, beyond screams.
After what felt like forever, the oven door finally opened.
Raya stood there with that same sweet smile. "Let's cool her down."
A bucket of ice water crashed over Celia's head.
"AHHHH!"
The shock from burning hot to freezing cold sent her body into violent spasms. She curled up on the floor like a dying fish, and then everything went black.
