Chapter 3

Haven Bennett POV

The heavy, suffocating pressure in my chest vanished all at once.

I felt a sudden, weightless pull, as if an invisible tether had snapped, lifting me up toward the peeling ceiling of the basement room.

I looked down.

My corpse lay curled on the dirty linoleum floor, looking so small, thin, and pale.

Dark red blood was smeared across the corners of my mouth and my neck, pooling into a stain at the collar of my five-dollar, worn-out flannel shirt.

My eyes were half-open, staring blankly into the dark corner beneath the cot.

I was dead, reduced to a soul without a physical body.

Before I could even process the fact that I was already a corpse, an invisible force dragged my consciousness through the ceiling, past the gray city streets, and straight into the glittering ballroom of the Grand Oak Country Club.

Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the high, vaulted ceilings, pouring soft golden light over the marble floors and bouquets of white lilies.

On an elevated stage, violinists played a soothing melody.

Wealthy guests in silk gowns and tailored tuxedos held crystal flutes filled with vintage champagne.

In the center of the room stood Claire. She wore a custom emerald-green satin gown that accentuated her delicate frame; she was radiant, looking like a true angel surrounded by adoring stars.

She held Cooper Holland's arm, smiling sweetly as she greeted the guests.

Colin and Inga stood nearby, their eyes full of parental affection.

"Where is Haven?" Inga muttered under her breath, glancing toward the entrance with an annoyed frown. "The toast is about to begin. She is always so selfish, making everyone wait for her."

Colin let out a cold snort, slamming his champagne flute onto a passing waiter's tray.

"It's definitely her pathetic pride acting up again. She probably thinks showing up dressed like a beggar is too embarrassing."

"She doesn't even think about the fact that if she hadn't taken Claire's place, Claire wouldn't have been wandering the streets for eighteen years."

"We let her suffer a little hardship, and now she's acting like the victim."

Floating in mid-air, I listened quietly to their conversation.

A soul cannot feel physical pain, but I felt a strong wave of nausea.

Three years ago, they claimed that the Bennett family's nanny had gotten greedy, kidnapped the newborn Claire, and sold her, while I was a baby stolen from an orphanage to act as a replacement.

It wasn't until tonight that I realized the so-called "truth" was nothing but a sick lie they fabricated to test me.

I was clearly their biological daughter too, yet I had to bear all their anger and revenge.

Cooper Holland walked over holding two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Claire with a gentle smile—a gentleness that, in the entire three years of our engagement, he had never once shown me.

"Don't let her ruin your mood, Claire," Cooper comforted her softly. "I just spoke to her on the phone half an hour ago. She remained completely silent, deliberately giving me the cold shoulder. She thinks if she plays hard to get, I'll chase after her."

Claire took a sip of champagne, looking up at Cooper with wide, seemingly innocent eyes.

"Cooper, maybe Haven is really hurt," Claire murmured, her voice just loud enough for the nearby socialites to hear clearly. "She spent three years living in such terrible conditions. Maybe... she feels resentful that I have taken her place."

Inga immediately placed a protective, aching hand on Claire's shoulder.

"You took nothing from her, Claire," Inga said firmly. "We raised her for eighteen years and gave her the best life. Making her repay the upbringing expenses was just to teach her that privilege must be earned. If she has even a shred of conscience or decency, she should kneel before you tonight and thank us with tears of gratitude for being willing to take her back."

With that, Inga opened her velvet clutch and took out a heavy diamond necklace.

"I bought this for her," Inga continued, showing it to the surrounding guests. "As long as she is willing to apologize and publicly kneel before you to admit her mistakes, I will personally place this around her neck. We have already been more than generous to her."

I looked at that necklace.

Suddenly, I remembered the winter half a year ago.

An SUV had clipped my bicycle on an icy turn.

My right leg was severely fractured.

Using the last one percent of my phone battery, I called Inga.

The moment the call connected, I cried out, "Mom, please save me."

But Inga's voice on the other end was cold to the extreme.

"Haven, are you out of money to pay your debt and trying to trick the family into transferring you cash?"

"Let me tell you, this trick won't work. You owe Claire, and you must pay it back yourself."

With that, she hung up the phone.

I lay in the snow for three hours, and in the end, I dragged myself to a roadside pharmacy.

Later, because that leg wasn't treated in time, it left a permanent complication.

Whenever it rained or snowed, it ached so badly I couldn't even walk.

And now, she took out a necklace, thinking it could just erase the agony of a broken bone from those three years.

I felt no anger in my heart.

There was only a deep, boundless disgust that seeped into my very bones.