Chapter 1

In the grand ballroom of Merrida's most luxurious five-star hotel, the lights shimmered like a golden palace, casting a warm glow over the lavish engagement party. The elite gathered to celebrate the union of the Crawford and Newton heirs. Beneath glistening crystal chandeliers, the couple basked in the crowd's admiration.

The air buzzed with chatter. Nobles, tycoons, and high-society figures filled the room, their laughter and clinking glasses echoing through the opulent space. Elegant floral arrangements adorned every corner, flaunting the event's grandeur.

Then, like a needle scratching a record, a delicate body plummeted from the hotel rooftop, crashing violently onto the ground below. Her form lay still, grotesquely twisted, utterly lifeless. Bruises marred her flawless skin, each a cruel testament to the indignity she'd suffered before her fall.

A collective gasp swept through the onlookers, whose eyes darted upward to the window. There, a face drenched in cold sweat, eyes wide with unconcealable terror, was visible. The shock was palpable—the woman hadn't jumped; she'd been pushed.

Murmurs and gasps rippled through the gathering. Some frantically dialed emergency services, others rushed to the body, a cocktail of emotions swirling in their eyes. Whispered gossip spread like wildfire, curiosity and shock intertwining. Their gazes shifted from her lifeless face to her exposed body, unsavory thoughts flickering in their minds. Initial shock soon morphed into disdain, sneers, and revulsion. The crowd's fascination seemed fueled by the potentially scandalous nature of the situation, their imaginations running wild.

"Isn't that… Aurora Crawford?" A hushed voice dropped like a bomb, igniting a frenzy of whispers.

"Aurora Crawford? The girl the Crawfords took back a few years ago? I heard she was a wild child with no manners before reuniting with her family. And when she returned, she started throwing her weight around," one man said, his eyes gleaming with malice.

The murmurs escalated.

"Didn't she even try to seduce her stepsister's fiancé?"

"The one getting engaged upstairs—that's her stepsister, right? This whole party's about to blow up. The Crawfords are going to be humiliated," another person added, clearly enjoying the drama.

Each whisper was like a dagger, stabbing into Aurora's already lifeless body. She lay on the icy ground, her limbs cold and stiff, her mind slipping into darkness. The sharp pain and searing shame intertwined in her fading consciousness.

Aurora's thoughts drifted to her father, and, even more painfully, to her own absurdity. When she'd been brought back into the Crawford family, she'd cared nothing for wealth or status. She'd only wanted to escape orphanhood and find a place to belong.

Yet, in her earnest attempts to fit in and win their favor, she'd paved the way for this tragic outcome. Her attempts to please had led her here.

She couldn't escape her father's face—the man who threw her a bone when convenient, but readily offered her up like a lamb to the slaughter. He was now hosting a grand engagement party for his stepdaughter after abandoning Aurora to thugs. The pain in her chest burned, hatred bubbling up, threatening to consume her.

Then, Aurora thought of Maura Crawford, the woman who orchestrated her downfall. When Aurora had returned, no one had treated her kindly—except Maura, her stepsister, always offering kindness and support. Aurora had considered Maura a real sister. No matter the trouble, Aurora had always taken the blame for Maura. Yet, this was her fate.

She hated them all. She hated the Crawfords' lies and cruelty. But most of all, she hated herself for being such a fool. To please them, she'd sacrificed everything—her mother's inheritance, her pride, her talents—she'd dimmed her own light to make Maura shine. She'd been a puppet, a clown for their amusement.

As her world collapsed, Aurora was consumed by regret and rage. She cursed the Crawfords' heartlessness, her own naiveté, and all who had mocked, used, and hurt her. Her eyes remained wide open, fixed on the sky, as if carving an unspoken vow into the heavens. 'If there's a next life, I will make them all pay,' she thought.

At that moment, outside the hotel, the subtle click of a car door signaled the arrival of a strikingly tall, impeccably dressed man. He was ushered from the vehicle as if he were the most cherished guest.

He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his presence so powerful it seemed to bend the world to his will. It was as if a spotlight had landed on him, freezing everything else.

The buzzing crowd fell silent, as if a forceful hush had swept over them. Whispers evaporated, and the throng parted instinctively, creating a clear path for him.

"Is that the legendary head of the Harrison family?" one woman whispered in awe.

Her friend nodded, wide-eyed. "Yes, the one known for his unpredictable moods and eccentricities. They say he can turn the tides in Mereida with a snap of his fingers."

Another person chimed in, "It's really him. One of the most powerful men… to come to the engagement party? This is huge. The Crawfords actually got him…"

The man was Dason Harrison, whose name alone commanded respect in Mereida. Every rumor about him sent chills down people's spines. His presence here left everyone stunned, curious about his reason for attending.

Dason halted. His gaze swept over the crowd before locking onto Aurora, sprawled on the ground. He strode forward, each step calm yet purposeful, until he stood over her broken body.

She looked like a shattered masterpiece—bloodstained, but still eerily beautiful. Dason's expression darkened, recognizing Aurora—a woman seemingly astute, yet cruelly played for a fool by fate and family. Her once-bright eyes now held only despair and palpable hatred.

"Mr. Harrison?" his assistant, Harry Gray, called out softly, confused.

But Dason didn't respond. He knelt, swiftly removing his suit jacket and wrapping it gently around Aurora. His movements were decisive, as though protecting her was second nature. Scooping her into his arms, he gave a cool order. "Bring the car around."

Though Harry's shock was evident, he obeyed.

Aurora, floating on the edge of oblivion, barely registered what was happening. The pain, the anger—everything was slowly numbing. But in that numbness, she was stunned to see Dason covering her with his jacket and cradling her as if she were precious. She'd never expected him to take her to the hospital.

Before she could process the thought, a gust of wind swept through the sky. The world faded to black, and Aurora slipped into unconsciousness.

Mereida's affluent district, perched atop a mountain, was serene and secluded, its winding road snaking to the peak. Along the road, a sleek black sedan sped upward when a dark figure darted across its path. The driver, Leopold Barone, slammed on the brakes, tires screeching.

Inside, Aurora, seated in the back, was thrown forward, her head colliding with the seatback before everything went black.

"Miss Aurora, are you okay!" Leopold twisted around, his voice tinged with panic as he received no response.

He jumped out, yanked open the rear door, and there she was—limp, pale, unconscious.

Aurora's mind drifted into a foggy haze, past memories clinging like shadows. It felt like drowning, sinking deeper into the abyss.

Through sheer willpower, she shook her head and forced her eyes open. The world swam in and out of focus.

"Leopold," she whispered weakly.

"Yes, Miss Aurora. Should I take you to the hospital?" Leopold's voice wavered with concern.

Aurora shook her head slowly, her vision clearing enough to catch the sunlight streaming through the window. It cast an ethereal glow on her face, making the moment feel surreal. She dug her nails into her arm, desperate to confirm she was awake.

"Where are we, Leopold?" she asked, though she already had an idea. She needed confirmation.

Leopold looked at her, startled. "Miss Aurora, you're the daughter of Mr. Jason Crawford. Mr. Crawford asked me to bring you home. You… you don't remember…"

A bitter laugh bubbled up from Aurora's throat, low and filled with irony and hatred. She could never forget this was the first time she'd crossed the threshold into the Crawford family's world ten years ago—a journey that had begun with hope and ended in utter ruin. Even her death had been a scandalous mess.

Now, fate had turned its wheel, and here she was, back from the brink, her soul battered but her heart fueled by a hatred that had grown and flourished.

The landscape outside hadn't changed, but Aurora had. This road, once walked in silent misery, was lined with memories of humiliation. Back when she first joined the Crawford family, she'd been told there were no drivers available and had been left to walk down the mountain.

Back then, she'd believed her presence was a burden. She'd tried to be considerate, afraid of causing trouble. But now she knew better. It had been deliberate, a cruel game to humiliate her.

How stupid was I, she thought bitterly, her fingers curling into a fist, to let them walk all over me with a smile. To let them take away what's rightfully mine.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as fury surged inside her. Her body seemed to radiate that icy anger, her eyes darkening as flashes of crimson flickered, catching Leopold's attention. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, unnerved by the sharp glint in her eyes.

He thought, a chill creeping up his neck, Is she… possessed or something?

"Miss Aurora?" he asked cautiously.

His words snapped her back to the present. She took a deep breath, a smirk playing on her lips. No rush, she thought. I've got all the time in the world in this lifetime.

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice calm yet commanding. "Let's keep going."

This time, she wouldn't repeat the mistakes of the past.

As the car wound higher, the view grew more vast and spectacular. The sprawling estates of Terranes, where Mereida's elite resided, appeared like jewels nestled into the landscape. Every inch screamed luxury and exclusivity—sculpted gardens, towering mansions, and breathtaking views.

The further they ventured, the more magnificent the architecture became, each residence showcasing increasingly lavish grandeur. The families residing here bore distinguished status, their prestige echoing through the opulent facades. "Terranes has the best view in all of Merida," Leopold said, trying to lighten the mood. "And now, Miss Aurora, it's where you'll be living."

Aurora nodded, her gaze distant, her expression unreadable. Nothing seemed to stir her anymore, her heart locked away from the grandeur that once might have made her breath catch.

Leopold couldn't hide his surprise. A while ago, Aurora had been full of nervous energy, bombarding him with questions about her family, clearly anxious, her voice tinged with hope and fear. She had even been careful to please him with almost excessive deference.

But now, she seemed detached, almost regal in her calm. Like a real lady of the house, he thought.

Leopold fell silent, driving the rest of the way in quiet. As they neared Crawford Manor, the gates slowly swung open, revealing a sprawling estate. Lush gardens stretched endlessly, a pristine lawn leading to an ornate fountain at its center, where two statues stood in the misty spray, rainbows shimmering in the sunlight.

And there, amid all the opulence, sat an elegant lady, leisurely sipping her afternoon tea in the meticulously manicured garden—Stacy Crawford. Aurora's lips curled into a knowing smile.