Chapter 1: Ruthless

When Claire Prescott walked out of prison, she wore the same white dress from four years prior. It was all she possessed; it was all she’d arrived with. The frigid winter wind howled, whipping around her thin frame, tugging at the now-tattered garment. She looked like a ghost.

Harrison Prescott barely recognized his sister. The once-haughty, prim princess of the Prescott family now stood shyly at the prison door, head down, meekly thanking the guard.

Once the guard departed, a familiar, cold voice cut through the air, demanding their attention: “So… you’re finally out,” it boomed.

Years of deep love rushed back to Claire. She looked up at the almost godlike Frederick Hawthorne. He stood sternly in his dark green army uniform, as tall as ever. Under his cap, his handsome face—a face that could stop time—revealed sharp features and deep, piercing eyes that sparkled in the winter sun. The general’s new badges gleamed brightly on his shoulders.

He’s a general now?

“Fred, I’m sorry we had to bail Claire out,” Harrison said. “Grandma has late-stage stomach cancer and refuses surgery unless Claire is released.”

Claire sensed the resentment in his voice, knowing he meant every word. He wanted her in prison as much as Frederick did.

“I get it. Claire, don’t think you’re off the hook. In fact… it’ll be easier to make you pay now. You’ll wish you were dead,” Fred replied, his voice dark and threatening.

Another sentiment Claire knew he genuinely felt. Intimidation had always been his strong suit, though not always against her. Suddenly, the old fear returned, making her head spin. She nearly fell as past memories flooded back, swirling in her mind with nothing to grasp. She desperately tried to focus her breathing.

As she regained her senses, Fred was already at the car. Suppressing her feelings, she wobbled toward Harrison, her cold lips trembling.

“Harrison…” She called out his first name, out of habit, quickly realizing her grave mistake.

“I don’t want to hear you calling me by my first name!” he seethed. “Have some damn respect. Allowing you to keep the Prescott name is already too merciful. You better remember your place. Do you understand me?”

Harrison’s voice was colder and more detached than Frederick’s; the hatred in his eyes had only deepened during her four years of imprisonment.

“Yes, Mr. Prescott.” She corrected herself, her body trembling as she looked down. She sounded humble, visibly shrinking inward.

Once in the car, she nervously grazed her fingers on the soft leather seat, fearing it might all be a dream. If the dream ended, she’d undoubtedly return to that awful place. She lifted her rough, scarred hand and wiped the window, observing the view outside.

For four years, she’d dreamed of this day, of freedom. She knew she was only released because of Elizabeth Prescott, the family matriarch. Without Elizabeth’s stomach cancer and her pleas, Claire would never have left that prison alive.

The two men in the car were her brother of twenty years and the man she’d loved for sixteen. She’d known them her whole life, seen every phase of their existence. But it wasn’t like that anymore. They might as well have been strangers.

Four years ago, the story of two rich girls—one real, one fake—rocked Kingstown. And Claire was the fake one. Her selfish, overly ambitious mother had switched Anna and Claire’s identities as babies. Claire became the stuck-up Prescott princess, while Anna became a lazy gambler’s daughter. Claire lived lavishly, while Anna was largely unnoticed and unimportant to her conniving stepmother.

Later, Anna’s brother died saving Frederick in battle, so Frederick took Anna in, treating her like his own sister. Then, the truth emerged: Anna was the real heiress, and Claire had stolen her glory, fortune, identity, and life. The town sympathized with Anna, gossiping and demanding retribution.

But the very next night, Anna was attacked by gangsters in an alley who assumed she carried her fortune. She died in the hospital hours later. Harrison and Frederick had Claire locked up, suspecting she’d grown jealous and threatened by Anna’s rise to her rightful place. They’d even seen a text message placing Claire at the Redsun that night, the bar where Anna was mugged. They were certain Claire had murdered her to secure her position as the princess of the powerful family. Frederick declared her guilty, while Harrison ensured she was imprisoned.