Chapter 1
On the first snowy day of the year in Ravencroft, Penelope Carmichael found herself lying in a hospital's emergency IV room, drowsy and listening to the girl in the next bed kindly reminding her that it's not wise to be alone during an IV drip. She had fallen asleep and her IV bag had emptied without her noticing, luckily the girl's mom called a nurse for her.
The girl kept talking, suggesting Penelope call her family since she still had several bags to go. After thanking her, Penelope simply said, "Orphan," which took the girl aback. Penelope just smiled, slowly pulling out her phone to check the time—it was 2 in the morning.
She had spent the whole day at a photo studio and, after eating takeout, spent four hours in the darkroom without a single satisfactory photo. Just when she was about to break down emotionally, she started feeling severe abdominal pain.
After resting didn't help and nausea and vomiting kicked in, she had no choice but to cab it to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with acute gastroenteritis. She was already two IV bags in; she was awake for the first but barely made it through the second.
Too tired.
She hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages.
The nurse, knowing she had no one for support, kindly offered to arrange a caretaker before leaving. Penelope ended up staying three days in the hospital. On the day of her discharge, Daphae Carmichael called her.
"Tomorrow's your sister's birthday, don't forget," she said just as Penelope was leaving the hospital.
"Can't make it, I'm sick," Penelope replied.
Ms. Carmichael, knowing her daughter too well, was obviously skeptical. "Sick? You're faking it, aren't you? Conveniently ill right on your sister's birthday?"
Penelope's eyes briefly moistened at the damp weather, then she scoffed lazily. "Believe it or not, I'm not going. What's so great about birthdays? Funerals are more interesting. I'll go to hers."
"How can you be so cruel!" Ms. Carmichael was furious.
"As cruel as you made me. Insulting me is just insulting yourself."
"You know you're my daughter? Is this how you talk to your mother? Can't you be more like your sister? She's obedient, never causes us worry..."
"Be like her? How? Shameless? Home-wrecker? Lacking in decency, spouting garbage, bitchy, and venomous?"
"Shut up!"
As a taxi pulled up and a passenger got out, Penelope walked over. "If you despise me so much, why call me? Don't want to die from anger, do you? Let's just delete each other's numbers."
"Penelope! Speak properly!"
This sort of exchange was an annual tradition, and Ms. Carmichael was used to it, eventually switching to commanding tones.
"I'm tired of arguing. Pierce will also be there tomorrow; he said he'd pick you up."
Penelope cooled off at that, "You called him?"
"Yes, after your fight, you expected yourself to make the call? I'm giving you a chance to apologize to him when you see him."
Ms. Carmichael went on a lecture about marrying next year and not spending all her time in that "lousy studio" earning peanuts. "Focus on Pierce, stop arguing all the time. Your temper needs work. Be more like your sister, she has such a good temperament..."
Penelope got into the cab, ready to hang up as Ms. Carmichael hurriedly said, "There'll be many people tomorrow, it's your sister's birthday. It'll look bad if you don't show up. It's already rumored you two don't get along. Come for my sake."
Penelope gave the driver an address, leaning back, "Oh, my appearance fee is quite high."
Ms. Carmichael was speechless, "Money, money, money! Every conversation ends with you wanting money, completely obsessed!"
After a final rebuke, Ms. Carmichael asked, "How much do you want?"
Penelope replied, “Wasn't this supposed to be about showing you respect? How much is that respect worth to you?”
Penelope went home, cooked some food, and after eating, crashed into bed, sleeping all the way till noon the next day, only to be woken up by her phone.
It was her childhood friend, Isolde Moreau, on the line. "Hey, I'm catching the 3 PM flight, will be there by 5:30, come pick me up."
Staring at the ceiling, Penelope took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Weren't you supposed to be on a business trip for a month? It's been less than half that time, is it over?"
"Nope, just took half a day off. I'll have dinner with you then head back."
Penelope paused, then hit her forehead, suddenly more awake. Right, today was Esme Carmichael's birthday, a day when Isolde would always join her for dinner and drinks, partying all night long.
"You don't need to go through all that trouble."
Getting up from bed, Penelope took a sip of the now-cold coffee from her nightstand. "I'll be heading back to the old house tonight."
Ms. Carmichael had transferred her some money, starting with a five-figure sum which Penelope ignored until it reached six figures, and only then did she respond with a 'Thanks, Money Fairy Grandma' meme.
Ms. Carmichael was livid, ranting away, but Penelope felt pretty good about it. Six figures to grab a drink and annoy some folks seemed like a pretty sweet deal.
"Six figures? Wow, your mom is really splurging."
Isolde's tone carried a hint of sarcasm. She couldn't grasp Ms. Carmichael's logic—so stingy with Penelope on regular days, yet ready to throw money at an adopted daughter just to save dignity.
Treating her own daughter like dirt but the adopted one like treasure.
What kind of mother does that?
No, that's not enough blame. Aside from Penelope, the whole Carmichael family seemed to have their brains squished by a door.
Every time Isolde brought up the Carmichael's lack of sense, she'd get so worked up, rant a bit, then swiftly change the subject.
"How are things with Pierce Mercer? Still in a cold war?"
Penelope took another sip of her cold coffee, feeling chilled. "He's going to the birthday dinner tonight, Ms. Carmichael asked him to pick me up."
She didn't say they'd reconcile, but she didn't deny the possibility either, indicating the issue was serious.
Isolde was silent for a moment, then couldn't help but say, "Babe, don't hate me for saying this, but you and Pierce fighting like this isn't good."
Penelope put her cup down, closed her eyes, and calculated the time.
A fight? Indeed, she and Pierce had a big one this time, seeming to have been in a cold war for two months now.
"Pierce isn't the same person he used to be."
Isolde wanted to shake her awake.
"He's fallen for Clarissa Montague. Get a grip. He's not clean anymore. Why hang yourself on such a crooked tree?"
The truth was harsh, like a sharp blade capable of gouging a bleeding hole in one's heart.
Penelope felt a stabbing pain in her head.
Indeed, Pierce had once loved her passionately.
Indeed, he didn't anymore. She had gone from being one of his ribs to a chicken rib—tasteless and pointless.
Clarissa Montague.
The mere name filled Penelope with loathing, a topic she particularly disliked, but the fact remained: Clarissa had become Pierce's new rib.
Why insist on hanging from Pierce?
It was because she couldn't stand it. After all those years of waiting, their wedding was on the horizon, invitations sent. Everyone knew she was getting married. How could she give up now without looking bad?
Sure, she could be shameless, but she couldn't bear to let go.
Couldn't bear to make it easy for that wolf in sheep's clothing, Clarissa Montague.
But what could she do about it?
Pierce had called her a hedgehog, and indeed, she was one.
Sadly, not for much longer. Pierce had plucked her spikes one by one; without her armor, all she had left were raw wounds.
And once the last spike was gone, what life would she have left?
