Chapter 2

2

Quentin's face turned ashen with rage, but the door swung open before he could speak.

It was my dear sister, Yara.

"Valerie!"

She saw the blood dripping from my hand and let out a dramatic gasp.

She rushed forward, trying to take my hand while her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Quentin, don't be so cruel to her! It's all my fault. If I hadn't come back…"

Quentin stepped between us, pulling Yara into a protective embrace.

"Yara, you're too kind. A woman like her doesn't deserve your sympathy!"

Yara gave him a playful, flirtatious tap on the chest before turning back to me.

"By the way, sister, you have to come to the charity auction tomorrow night."

I let out a cold snort.

I knew the routine. Yara needed the "fake heiress" there as a plain backdrop.

The Vance family wanted to show the world how generous they were for keeping a "charity case" like me around.

"And why the hell would I go?" I asked.

Yara's face hardened at my tone.

"Valerie, watch your attitude!" Quentin barked.

"Yara is your sister. You stole her life for two decades. The least you can do is accompany her to a party."

"The Vances raised you. Don't be such an ungrateful bitch."

He glared at me with nothing but pure hatred.

I slowly let a smile spread across my face.

"Fine. I'll go."

"I'll make sure everyone sees my fiancé and my sister acting like a couple."

"You really think you're that clever," Quentin sneered.

He grabbed my neck with one hand, squeezing just enough to hurt.

"Too bad. I'm going to make sure everyone sees who the real princess is, and who is just trash."

The next day, I didn't even make it to the car.

I was knocked unconscious the moment I stepped out of the house.

I was shoved into a trunk and driven like cargo to the gala venue.

They forced me into a black dress made of the cheapest, scratchiest polyester.

As I walked into the ballroom, the high-society guests looked at me with open mockery.

Then, Yara approached me, glowing with triumph.

"Sister! You finally made it!"

She was wearing a custom silk gown dripping in crystals that probably cost more than a house.

But my eyes moved to her wrist. She was wearing the vintage emerald bracelet.

My stomach turned.

Years ago, Quentin had lost everything at a high-stakes poker game.

He was too scared to tell his father, so he pawned his grandmother's heirloom bracelet to cover the debt.

He had cried on my lap, saying it was the only thing he had left of the old woman.

To get it back, I had gone to the casino boss and begged on my knees.

I almost lost my dignity to a group of thugs that night, only escaping because I had called the cops in advance.

Now, that bracelet―the one I nearly died for―was on Yara's wrist.

Yara put on a shocked face.

"Oh, sister, why are you dressed like that?"

"I know you prefer a simple life, but you shouldn't embarrass the family name like this."

The whispering around us grew louder.

I gritted my teeth and forced a smile.

"I wouldn't want to outshine you, Yara. Besides, I only wear what the Vances give me."

Yara's expression flickered.

Marilyn Vance walked over, holding a glass of champagne with an air of cold authority.

"That's enough, Valerie. Today is important. Be a good girl and stay out of Yara's way."

She patted my hand, her diamond-encrusted nails scratching my skin.

"The family has been good to you. Don't make a scene."

I pulled my hand back and looked her straight in the eye.

"A scene? Mrs. Vance, that's rich coming from you."

"Is there anything more embarrassing than what you people are doing right now?"

Marilyn's face paled for a second before she regained her composure.

"Valerie, know your place," she whispered harshly.

"You're only here because we have a lingering sense of pity. Stop dreaming about things that aren't yours, including Quentin."