Chapter 1
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The cake was prepared for Cindy.
Even Charles... belonged to Cindy.
Amelia "Amy" Grant stood in the shadows of the noisy party, like a forgotten statue gathering dust.
Light from the crystal chandelier danced across every guest's smiling face, yet somehow missed the corner where she stood.
Her birthday was on the same day as Cindy's.
The air swirled with champagne bubbles, sweet cream, and the heady mix of designer perfumes.
Yet for all this grandeur, there was only one star—Cindy, the recently adopted daughter taken in by Amy's uncle and aunt.
A three-tiered masterpiece adorned with white roses commanded the center of the long dining table. Her aunt had specially ordered it from the city's most prestigious bakery. Guests clustered around it, with Cindy at the heart of their attention. She wore a pure white princess dress, delicate as a water lily yet impossible to ignore.
Charles Kesilan stood beside her, his handsome face lit with that gentle smile—the one Amy once knew by heart and craved desperately. But tonight, that tenderness wasn't hers.
When the first dance began, Charles extended his hand to Cindy without hesitation. The crowd whistled and laughed good-naturedly as Cindy shyly placed her hand in his. They glided onto the dance floor in perfect harmony, moving with the grace of partners who had practiced countless times. The spotlight tracked them, casting their inseparable shadows across the polished marble floor.
Amy's fingers dug into the hem of her dress, her breath catching in her throat.
Charles bent down to whisper in Cindy's ear, and she tilted her face up with a sweet, adoring smile.
She and Charles had grown up together. They had promised each other a future. Yet now, the person by his side was this newcomer to the Grant family.
Everyone kept telling Amy to be more gracious. After all, she was a Grant by blood, cherished by her grandfather and backed by her politically powerful father. Cindy was nothing in comparison, so why feel threatened?
Pain squeezed Amy's heart like an invisible fist. Her mind drifted back to the family meeting several weeks ago.
After her grandfather fell ill, her aunt had gathered everyone, supposedly to "discuss the current situation." During the meeting, her aunt had feigned concern about Amy's wellbeing while subtly suggesting she should "know her place" and "not cause trouble for the family."
When Amy finally found the courage to mention the group internship program her grandfather had arranged for her, her aunt shot down the idea with false sympathy.
"You're still young, dear. Why not let Cindy try instead?"
Amy had looked to Charles for support. But he'd simply lowered his eyes and then praised Cindy, saying she'd been preparing for this opportunity for some time.
Once memories start flooding back, they can't be contained.
She remembered the night her grandfather was rushed to the emergency room.
She stood alone in the cold corridor while her relatives, after briefly stopping at the hospital room door for a few token words, gathered nearby to eagerly discuss how the family business should be redistributed. They walked past her as if she were invisible.
As the song ended, thunderous applause erupted. Charles, holding Cindy's hand, returned to the center of the crowd to bask in everyone's approval. Only then did he seem to snap out of his trance, his eyes scanning the crowd until he finally spotted Amy in the corner.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face before he quickly walked over.
"Amy," he said, stopping in front of her with forced casualness, "why are you standing here all alone?"
Amy looked up, forcing a smile that was more painful than tears. What could she say? Ask why he'd forgotten it was her birthday too? Ask why his eyes only saw Cindy while she, his actual girlfriend, might as well be invisible?
"Don't take it personally," Charles said without waiting for her response. "Cindy and I... well, we're just like siblings. Everyone's watching, so I need to look after her a bit."
Just like siblings. Such empty words. Amy's heart plummeted, a chill spreading through her body.
What else could she say? Any protest would make her seem "immature" or "petty"—exactly what her aunt and the others wanted.
She wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
The party noise swallowed them again. The elders began distributing gifts, and without exception, they all piled up before Cindy. Designer bags, limited-edition jewelry, the latest gadgets... each item drawing soft gasps from Cindy and exaggerated praise from the crowd.
"Cindy is such a lovable child, so sensible and thoughtful." Her aunt's voice was perfectly pitched to reach Amy's ears.
"Indeed," another uncle added, "unlike some who think they're heaven's darlings and demand the best of everything."
Their words struck like poison darts, hitting Amy's most vulnerable spots. She kept her head down, staring at her empty hands, fighting back tears.
All evening, she received only three gifts.
One from her father, too busy in political circles to attend—a simple necklace in a velvet box, elegant but impersonal.
Another from Shane Evans, her stepmother's nephew. He couldn't attend, so his gift was delivered—a handcrafted wooden music box with a charming bear carved on top. When opened, it played her favorite childhood lullaby. That simple thoughtfulness loosened the knot in her chest slightly.
And the last gift, the weightiest one, came from her grandfather when she visited the hospital that afternoon.
The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beep of monitors. Her grandfather lay in bed, his once-powerful frame now frail as a reed, his face spotted with age, his breathing shallow.
With trembling hands, he'd given her a document—a share transfer agreement. He had transferred all his shares in Grant Group, originally her mother's, to her.
"Amy... my little Amy..." His voice was hoarse and dry, like sandpaper. "Birthday... I'm sorry, grandfather may... not have the strength to celebrate with you anymore."
Amy clutched the document that felt heavier than lead, her tears falling onto his weathered hand. She knew this wasn't just a birthday gift—it was her grandfather using his last strength to forge armor for her protection.
Amy snapped back to the present, her eyes finding the center of the party. Charles was fastening a brilliant diamond necklace around Cindy's neck—the very one Amy had once pointed out in a magazine, saying "that's beautiful."
Cindy glanced in Amy's direction, then stood on tiptoe to plant a sweet kiss on Charles's cheek. The crowd erupted in applause, louder than before.
As the party's glamour and noise washed over her, Amy faced a cold, harsh reality. This mansion where she'd grown up was becoming an elaborate, gilded cage designed specifically for her.
The hunt had begun, invisible forces closing in with each passing moment.
