Chapter 1
"Late again!"
"Inessa! Get down here now!"
Victor Brown’s voice rattled the chandelier in the foyer. Upstairs, Inessa winced, nearly stabbing herself with the eyeliner as her hand jerked. The clock on her vanity glared back—7:58 PM. The car would leave in two minutes.
Charity functions at the Royal Palace were gilded torture chambers.
Same crystal chandeliers. Same hollow laughter. Same wealthy vultures pretending to care about "underprivileged children" while eyeing tax deductions.
She’d rather donate her entire shoe collection than suffer through another night of it.
"Inessa. Downstairs. Now."
Her father’s voice sliced through her bedroom door, each word sharp enough to draw blood.
She knew that tone. It wasn’t a request. It was a threat in a three-piece suit.
Inessa stood, adjusting the final touches of her makeup—a light dusting of blush, a swipe of mascara. Nothing dramatic, just enough to satisfy her father’s expectations. Her hair, left loose tonight, cascaded in soft waves. Good enough.
Then came the dress.
Her father had commissioned it weeks ago—ivory silk, delicate beadwork shimmering like trapped starlight. The fishtail skirt was adorned with gemstones, the off-shoulder bodice hugging her like a second skin. It was beautiful, of course. Everything in their world had to be.
But as she slipped it on, the fabric felt heavy, as if it carried more than just the weight of its embroidery.
"You’ll wear this tonight," her father had said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Don’t embarrass me."
She smoothed the skirt, fingers lingering on the intricate stitching. It wasn’t just a dress. It was armor. A performance. Another night of playing the perfect daughter in a world where perfection was the only currency that mattered.
She’d known the moment the maid zipped her up—the sharp inhale, the way the silk strained across her ribs. But her father had already approved it, and in this house, his approval was final.
"Stand up straight."
Caroline’s sneer cut through the room as she leaned against the doorway, her emerald gown flowing effortlessly. "Wouldn’t want you splitting a seam before we arrive."
Inessa ignored her, focusing on breathing shallowly as they descended the grand staircase. The fabric pulled with every step, the beadwork digging into her hips.
She was descending the round staircase when suddenly cold air kissed her bare back and the sound of her ripped dress echoed as the seam gave way. Caroline’s gasp was theatrically loud. Their father’s face darkened like thunder.
Inessa froze. She was doomed.
The dress had cost three million dollars, and her father had personally instructed the designer. This wasn’t just about fabric—it was about his pride.
Caroline clutched her pearls, her voice dripping with faux horror. "Oh my God, Inessa!" Her manicured fingers dug into Inessa’s shoulder, yanking the torn fabric wider. "Look what you’ve done!"
Inessa rolled her eyes. Here we go again.
Victor stormed over, his polished shoes clicking like a ticking bomb. Caroline’s voice laced with false sympathy.
"Dad, don’t be mad! It’s not entirely her fault… even though I warned her three times." Her nails pinched Inessa’s arm under the guise of comfort. "Poor thing just can’t handle nice things."
Inessa scoffed. "It was an accident. Why are you trying to make it look like I intentionally tore it?"
Caroline’s eyes glittered. "Remember last gala? The champagne? Grandma’s emerald bracelet?" She sighed. "Some people just weren’t raised to appreciate—"
"I didn’t lose it," Inessa snapped. "Unless you count you stealing it from my jewelry box."
Caroline’s mouth fell open, but before she could retort—
"ENOUGH."
Victor’s voice was ice. Caroline pressed a hand to her heart. "I’m just worried for our reputation dad!"
Inessa watched her intently. She was indeed clever at concealing that vicious glint in her eyes.
"You, out of all people should be the last one to worry about my family's reputation. You're exactly like your cunning gold digger mother. Seems like apple didn't fall far from the tree. Like mother like daughter! Shameless-"
The slap came before she could blink.
Her vision blurred, the sting radiating across her cheek. Caroline’s triumphant grin lasted half a second before morphing into fake horror.
"Dad!" She threw herself between them. "She didn’t mean it! I know Inessa doesn't like me and my mother. It was my fault that I thought we could be like real sisters. It's okay dad, you don't need to hit her for it. I apologise from her behalf."
The more Caroline spoke, the more Victor grew enraged. How could Inessa behave to her caring young sister. If an outsider would see it, it would definitely look like that Caroline was the pitiful one and Inessa was just a proud bully.
But Inessa knew better. Victor Brown married Sandra Walker as soon as Amelia Anderson committed suicide.
For Victor, he thought Sandra and Caroline would be a perfect choice for raising Inessa so that she doesn't feel the absence of her mother Amelia.
But little did he know that this decision would lead into further chaos and Inessa would become unruly and wilder.
Inessa yanked away, wiping her face on the ruined silk. "Go to hell, Caroline."
Victor’s voice cracked like a whip. "Apologize. NOW."
His jaw was clenched, veins pulsing at his temple. A single tear burned down Inessa’s cheek.
She glanced at Caroline—her trembling lips, her glittering, victorious eyes.
"No."
The second slap split her lip. Blood coated her tongue.
Caroline gasped, her sob almost convincing—if not for the smirk she didn’t bother hiding.
Inessa laughed, the sound raw and broken. "Good one, sister. Next time, hit me yourself instead of hiding behind him."
Victor’s roar shook the chandeliers. "SILENCE!"
He gripped Inessa’s wrist, just shy of painful. "We are already late. Apologize, or spend the night locked in your room while the city whispers about your disgrace."
Caroline sniffled. "It’s okay, Dad. She doesn’t mean it."
Inessa, her gaze became icy as she stared at her dad. Her own biological dad couldn't see the schemes her beloved daughter was orchrastrating.
Ofcourse, why would he! He never bothered to hear her side of the story. He always acted on what her beloved daughter had said. Her disdain towards her father grew even more when she spat the words like poison. "Sorry."
Shadows crept along the hallway walls, as if reaching for her. Her dad knew her deepest fear. The one that still haunts her every night.
Inessa had lost her mother when she was six. Amelia had committed suicide after being overwhelmed by the daily abuse. Victor would come at home and vent his frustrations on his wife and this would ultimately result in another fight.
Amelia Anderson was a sensitive woman. Being born and raised in an influential family, she had received affection all her life until one day she fell in love with an ordinary office employee. It was non other than Niel Lodge.
Even after knowing the background of Neil Lodge, Benjamin Anderson, her father was reluctant for this wedding eventually agreed when he discovered Amelia's unexpected pregnancy.
But unfortunately when Amelia was three months pregnant with Inessa, Neil died in a tragic accident, resulting a panic situation in Anderson family.
To sort out the situation before it gets too late and brings shame to their family, her father and patriarch of the family, Benjamin Anderson fixed her marriage with Victor Brown, his most trusted assistant in the company.
Victor accepted Amelia but Amelia wasn't able to move on. Victor tried different methods to make Amelia move on but she was just too lost in her despair to think about him.
After Inessa's birth, things accelerated quickly and both fall into a heated argument daily. It had become like a routine for them to argue and fight every time they met.
Their marriage was in crisis and with each passing day, Victor grew violent, resulting in Amelia's death.
Inessa was just six when she had discovered her mother's body in that pitch black room and since then she had developed this phobia. It has become like a nightmare for her.
Yet he still let the shadows swallow her whole as she fled. Her bedroom door slammed behind her, the sound swallowed by the mansion's emptiness. She didn't turn on the lights. Some punishments are meant to be endured in the dark. She found herself trembling in fear as her skin broke into cold sweat. Her breathing was erratic but she tried to calm herself down.
Then she heard a knock. It was sharp—three quick raps that didn’t wait for permission. Caroline stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway chandelier, her shadow stretching across her bedroom floor like a stain.
In her hands, she held a dress—deep sparkling navy, sweetheart neck and with a long slit that could easily show off her beautiful leg, the kind of modest, forgettable thing meant to make her emerald gown shine brighter in comparison.
"Hurry up," Caroline said, thrusting the dress toward her. "Dad’s already in the car. He said if you’re not downstairs in five minutes, get ready for the punishment."
She didn’t move. The silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid—the ruined dress upstairs, Caroline's perfectly timed gasp, the way she’d curled her fingers into their father's sleeve like she belonged there.
Caroline’s lips twitched. "What? No thank you for saving you?"
She crossed the room in three strides, snatched the hanger from Caroline's grip, and slammed the door so hard the frame shook.
Outside, Caroline’s laughter was honey-sweet and poison-sharp. "Try not to trip on your way down, sister."
