The words only infuriated Gregory more. He pointed at Amara, his chest heaving.

"The Ashford family only made a statement when you were young, nothing more. They never meant for you to marry Kael. Melissa is far more worthy of him than you could ever be!"

Amara scoffed bitterly, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Is that why you called me here? To tell me my cousin is stealing the fiancé who was once promised to me? A sister wouldn't do such a thing."

Her words sliced through the air, sharp and mocking.

Gregory's face turned crimson. "Stealing? Don't twist things! I heard from Melissa herself-you tried to seduce her fiancé. Do you deny it?"

Her blood ran cold. How far would they go to drag her down?

Before she could speak, Gregory's voice thundered again. "From today until the engagement ceremony, you will remain locked in your room. Consider it punishment for your shameless actions."

Her face drained of color. Lock her up? Now? When she had been working herself half to death just to save enough for her tuition? They were really trying to break her. To destroy the last shred of hope she had.

Her jaw tightened as her heart filled with hate. They won't stop until I'm left with nothing.

Gregory caught the defiance burning in her eyes. The silent challenge made something snap inside him.

"You dare look at me like that?" he growled. He snatched a whip from the hand of a nearby servant and without another word, lashed it across her back.

Crack!

The sound echoed through the room. Amara staggered but clenched her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

Again. And again.

Her delicate skin split under the blows, blood soaking through her thin clothes. Pain seared through every nerve, but her silence was unyielding. Not a single cry escaped her lips.

Gregory's arm finally trembled with exhaustion. He threw the whip aside, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow. He glared at her bleeding figure-weak, trembling, yet still standing.

"Lock her up," he spat through gritted teeth.

The servants moved quickly, grabbing her by the arms. As they dragged her battered body toward the stairs, Clarissa's lips curved into a smug smile, her eyes glittering with satisfaction.

Amara's body hit the cold floor with a dull thud as the servants shoved her inside and slammed the door. The sound of the lock clicking echoed in the silence, leaving her shivering in the pitch-dark room, the sting of betrayal weighing heavier than the bruises on her skin.

Downstairs, the atmosphere shifted. Clarissa's voice, soft yet poisonous, laced through the room as she tried to soothe her husband's fury.

"You did well, Gregory. That girl needed to be reminded of her place," she cooed, her hand gently caressing his arm like oil poured over fire.

The storm in Gregory's eyes began to settle-just in time for Melissa to descend the staircase with her sister Cassandra at her side. Melissa's lips curved into a victorious smile, her arm linked with Cassandra's as if they were the perfect picture of sisterly affection.

"Mom, Dad," Melissa called sweetly, "Cassandra's going to help me pick out my engagement dress. You know she studied fashion design at one of the best schools. Her eye for style is unmatched."

The rage that had gripped Gregory moments earlier melted at the sound of his daughter's voice. His expression softened into a smug grin, pride swelling in his chest. He straightened in his chair like a king surveying his legacy.

"Liam!" he barked, calling for his younger son. "Take your sisters to the boutique. Make sure they get exactly what they want."

"Yes, Father," Liam replied, already reaching for the car keys.

As the trio left, the Hayes mansion seemed lighter, as though Amara's disgrace had been replaced with the glittering anticipation of Melissa's upcoming union.

Clarissa leaned closer, her smile sharp and satisfied as her hand rubbed soothing circles on Gregory's back.

"See? Our children are thriving. Melissa's engagement will elevate the Hayes name even higher. All that remains..." Her eyes gleamed. "Is plucking that thorn from our side."

Gregory's smugness faltered, his brows knitting into a deep frown. The weight of Amara's existence pressed on him like a migraine that refused to fade.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" he muttered darkly. "If we move too soon, suspicion will fall on us. People already whisper."

Clarissa's lips curved, a slow, poisonous smile spreading across her face as she leaned in and whispered in his ear.

Whatever she said made his eyes glint with dangerous satisfaction. By the time she pulled away, the shrewd patriarch's frown had vanished, replaced with a cruel smirk.

-

Amara hadn't seen the light of day since the moment the servants dragged her into the room. Days blurred into nights, hunger gnawed at her stomach, and the damp chill clung to her bones. When the door finally creaked open, it wasn't freedom that greeted her-just cruelty.

A servant stepped in, his expression curled into disdain as he tossed a crumpled dress onto the bed like garbage.

"The master says you should dress properly and behave yourself," he sneered, his tone heavy with threat. "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself further... or bring more trouble onto that pitiful head of yours."

His laughter-low and mocking-lingered in the air even after he slammed the door shut.

Amara stared blankly at the old dress lying in front of her. Her body trembled, not just from weakness but from the weight of humiliation. It was Melissa's cast-off-an outfit meant for the trash. Her lips curled in disgust as she flung it into the corner.

She pressed a hand against her frail frame, her fingers brushing the outline of her ribs. Days of rejecting their food had taken a toll, but she would rather starve than swallow their poison. With trembling steps, she dragged herself to the bathroom.

The icy water stung her skin, but it was cleansing. For a brief moment, she shed the filth of their cruelty. When she stepped out, she reached under her bed and pulled out a carefully folded dress-from years ago.

Her eyes softened as memories washed over her. She had saved every coin during high school to buy it, imagining the day she'd wear it on her first date with Kael. She remembered dressing up so hopefully that night, only to wait in vain. Later, she'd found out he'd been with Melissa.

Her lips twisted bitterly at the memory, but she shook it off. Today, she wasn't wearing it for Kael. She was wearing it for herself.

The dress slipped onto her body like it had been waiting for this moment. She combed her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, smoothing it down until it framed her delicate face. With pale fingers, she dabbed a thin layer of lip oil across her cracked lips.

And then she looked in the mirror.

Despite the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks, the reflection staring back was breathtaking. Fragile yet radiant, her beauty carried a kind of resilience that no cruelty could erase.

Even starved, even broken-Amara looked like an angel cast down into the dirt, still shining.

The Hayes mansion was ablaze with lights that night. The chandeliers glittered, the air was thick with the fragrance of roses and expensive champagne, and guests from the city's elite families filled the grand hall. Laughter and conversation hummed like music.

At the center of it all was Melissa, beaming proudly in her extravagant designer gown. Cassandra flitted around her, making sure every detail of her sister's appearance was perfect, while Clarissa basked in the attention of their wealthy guests. Gregory stood tall, brimming with fatherly pride, as if this was his triumph.

As soon as Amara descended the stairs

A hush fell.

Every head turned, and they all stared at her

She stepped into the hall, her figure draped in the simple yet elegant dress she had once bought with dreams of love. Her pale face was framed by soft waves of hair, her lips faintly glossy, and though her frame was fragile, she carried herself with quiet dignity. She looked ethereal, as though she had walked out of a dream.

Gasps rippled across the hall.

"What a beauty..." someone whispered.

Kael's mother, seated near the front, narrowed her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she was stunned by the girl's angelic appearance. Such poise, such natural grace-no amount of money could buy that. But then her lips curled coldly as she thought, Too bad she's worthless. A flower growing in the mud will only rot. She could never be suitable for my son.

Kael himself could not tear his gaze away. He had seen Amara countless times before, but never like this. Tonight, she was more than the timid, bullied girl he remembered-she was breathtaking, a fragile rose blooming against all odds.

Melissa's smile froze, her painted lips twitching with rage. How dare Amara steal her spotlight?

One of Melissa's lackeys quickly plastered on a false smile and called out loudly, "Oh, look who decided to join us, our pitiful little Amara. Wearing... oh, is that an old dress? How quaint."

Laughter erupted among a few sycophants nearby, their mocking voices carrying across the hall.

Melissa, fueled by jealousy, added sweetly, "Sister, thank you for gracing us with your presence. I'm sure Kael won't even recognize you dressed so... plainly." Her words dripped with venom, but her eyes betrayed her insecurity as she caught Kael staring at Amara.

Amara said nothing. Her lips curved ever so slightly in a mocking smile

Gregory's face darkened. He called, his voice booming, "Amara! Stop standing there like a statue and come greet your sister's guests."

Amara walked forward. Slowly, gracefully. Every step was a slap to her family's faces. She neither bowed her head nor forced a smile. Instead, she lifted her chin ever so slightly, her eyes cold and distant, as if none of them were worth her attention.

Whispers stirred in the crowd.

"She's stunning..."

"Her family treats her like a servant, but look at her... she outshines the bride-to-be."

"If only she had status, she could easily replace Melissa..."

Melissa's nails dug into her palms. Clarissa forced out another laugh to drown the whispers. Gregory's frown deepened, his eyes twitching.

But in that moment-surrounded by luxury, hatred, and whispers-Amara was the one who truly stood out.

Melissa's smile grew strained as she noticed more and more eyes lingering on Amara instead of her. No-this was her night, and she wouldn't allow that lowly cousin to ruin it.

She exchanged a quick glance with her mother, and Clarissa immediately understood. Rising to her feet with a graceful laugh, Clarissa clapped her hands.

"Everyone," she said loudly, "since this is a joyous occasion, how about our dear Amara perform a toast for the newly engaged couple? After all, she owes it to her sister to show her... blessings."

Her words were dripping with false sweetness, but everyone in the hall knew it was an order, not a request. A servant rushed forward, placing a filled glass of red wine into Amara's hand.

Melissa smirked, her eyes glinting. "Yes, cousin. Say something nice for me and Kael. Don't just stand there."

Amara looked down at the glass in her hand. Her delicate fingers tightened ever so slightly around it. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, she walked to the front, stopping right before the happy couple. Her lips parted, her voice calm, soft-yet chillingly clear in the silent hall.

"I wish my dear cousin Melissa a lifetime of happiness," she said, her eyes gliding over Melissa, then Kael, "though it's strange, isn't it? Happiness that comes from stealing what belongs to others never lasts long."

The room exploded.

Whispers rose like wildfire.

"What does she mean by that?"

"Stealing? Could it be..."

"Ah... so the rumors might be true!"

Melissa's face twisted, her nails digging so deep into her palm that her knuckles turned white. "Y-You-!" she sputtered, her voice trembling with rage.

Clarissa's smile cracked, her eyes flashing with venom. "Amara! How dare you say such things on this special day! Do you want to bring shame to this family?"

Gregory shot up from his seat, slamming the table so hard the glasses rattled. "Ungrateful wench! Do you think anyone will believe your nonsense?!"

But before Melissa could utter another word a clumsy servant carrying a tray of wine passed behind Melissa-and in a well-timed "accident," Melissa reached out, pretending to stumble. The tray tipped, the glasses crashed to the ground, and dark red wine splashed across Amara's dress, soaking the fabric like blood.

Gasps echoed through the room.

Melissa covered her mouth, feigning innocence. "Oh no! Amara, I didn't mean to! How careless of me..." Her words were laced with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

The crowd murmured, some pitying, some amused.

But Amara did not falter.

She stood there, drenched in crimson, her pale face calm as still water. Slowly, she placed the glass she was holding onto the nearest table with deliberate care. Then, she lifted her gaze to Melissa and smiled-cold, sharp, and devastatingly beautiful.

"You're right, cousin," she said softly, her voice carrying through the hall. "You didn't mean to. Just like you didn't mean to steal, didn't mean to lie, didn't mean to send men after me that night."

The hall fell silent.

Melissa froze, her mask of innocence shattering.

Kael's mother narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face. The whispers from the guests rose again, louder this time-questions, accusations, and shock.

And in that silence, Amara turned, her back straight, her soaked dress clinging to her figure. She walked away, leaving her dear cousin trembling, Clarissa fuming, and Gregory's veins bulging with suppressed fury.

The moment Amara stepped out of the glittering Hayes mansion, the cool night air hit her face like a blessing. She drew in a long breath, the suffocating whispers and laughter of the hall finally fading behind her. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

Her eyes caught a servant hurrying past with a tray of drinks. Without hesitation, Amara plucked a bottle of wine from it, flashing a faint, mischievous smile as she slipped away. Clutching the bottle, she broke into a run.

Her long hair streamed behind her, catching the moonlight, the night wind kissing her flushed cheeks. In that moment, even in a simple dress stained with red, she looked breathtaking-like a fallen angel escaping her cage.

She laughed softly, the sound carried away by the breeze, her heart pounding with exhilaration.

But her fleeting freedom didn't last.

"Oi-watch where you're going!" a voice barked as she collided with someone on the path.

She bumped into one of Kael's so-called friends, a notorious rich lackey always hanging off his coattails. He glared at first, ready to curse her into the ground-until recognition struck. His lips curled into a greedy smile.

"Well, well. If it isn't Amara," he drawled, his eyes shamelessly raking over her figure. "Running away from the party? Don't worry, baby, even if Kael doesn't want you, I do. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you're spoiled."

Amara's expression didn't change. She simply brushed past him as though he were nothing more than dust in her path.

But he wasn't having it. His hand shot out, blocking her way. "Don't act so high and mighty. You're nothing now. You should be grateful I-"

Crunch.

Amara's heel came down hard on his foot. He howled, staggering back in pain.

Before he could recover, Amara had already dashed off, the sound of his curses echoing behind her.

Far from the estate now, she finally stopped, her chest heaving. Then, to her own surprise, she started laughing-free, unrestrained laughter that shook her shoulders.

Pulling something out of her grip, she stared at the leather wallet she had deftly slipped from the lackey's pocket in the scuffle.

Flipping it open, her brows arched high at the sight of crisp bills stuffed inside.

"Well, well..." she murmured, lips curving into the faintest of smirks. "Looks like fate's finally throwing me a bone."

She tucked the wallet into her dress, clutching the wine bottle tighter as she continued walking into the night-each step lighter than the last, as though she was no longer just running away, but toward something new.

She got to the side of the road and hailed a taxi and got in, she leaned back against the worn seat of the taxi, her forehead pressed lightly to the glass. The city lights blurred past her, glittering like stars that had fallen to earth. The wind rushing in through the open window tangled her hair, and for the first time in years, she felt light and free.

Even if it was only for a while.

"Drive me around," she told the driver softly when he asked for her destination. She didn't care where. As long as it wasn't home. That place wasn't a home-it was a cage, a prison made of cruel whispers and blood ties that should have protected her, not destroyed her.

After a while, she told the driver to take her to the beach. By the time the taxi slowed in front of the beach, the city had grown quiet. Amara paid him quickly, stepped out, and let her heels sink into the sand. The ocean stretched before her, silver under the moonlight, vast and eternal.

She slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot across the cool sand, the bottle of wine swinging lazily from her hand. The laughter and music from the Hayes estate seemed like a different world. Here, it was just the tide, the stars, and her breaking heart.

She found a quiet stretch of shore where no one lingered, and sat down. Tilting her head back, she drank straight from the bottle. One swallow, then another, until the world swayed around her. Her tears slipped down, mixing with her laughter, as if she couldn't decide which pain to release first.

She had nothing left. No parents. No love. No freedom. Only bruises on her skin and a hollow ache in her chest.

"Maybe... it's time," she whispered, staring into the restless waves.

If her parents were gone, maybe she should join them. Maybe the ocean would be kinder than the people she lived with.

With that thought, Amara staggered to her feet, dropped the empty bottle into the sand, and stepped into the water. Cold waves licked at her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. She didn't stop. She walked deeper, until the ocean embraced her fully.

Her bruised body ached. Her lungs burned as water pushed into her throat. Darkness curled at the edges of her vision-

Then she saw a dark figure

Through the water's blur, she saw a shadow sinking, a body drifting down like a fallen star.

Her instincts screamed. In a rush of strength she didn't know she had, Amara dove forward, dragging him with her weak arms until they broke the surface. She coughed violently, kicking against the current until her knees hit sand. Somehow, she pulled him to the shore and laid him flat on the ground.

"Damn it," she cursed, chest heaving. He was bleeding. His abdomen was cut, blood mingling with seawater. His face was pale, lips tinged blue.

Amara's trembling hands brushed back his dark hair clinging to his forehead, and for a moment, her heart stopped.

He wasn't just handsome. He was... otherworldly. Strong, sharp features sculpted like marble, lashes long even in unconsciousness. Even drenched, battered, and half-dead, he looked like some fallen god thrown into mortal hands.

She pressed her lips together, then without hesitation bent over him, giving him her breath. Her lips sealed over his, pushing life into him again and again.

"Don't you dare die on me," she panted between attempts, her voice breaking. "You hear me? Not here. Not now!"

Her vision blurred with tears. Her arms shook. "Damn it! Why you? Why do I have to find you when I was in the middle of ending everything?"

At last, he coughed-a harsh, broken sound. Water spilled from his lips. Relief shattered through her, and she collapsed beside him, pressing a trembling hand to her pounding chest.

When she dared to look again, she almost forgot to breathe.

Moonlight washed over him, illuminating his sharp jawline, the sculpted chest exposed beneath his half-open shirt, the trail of scars across his pale skin. Her eyes widened, and before she could stop herself, she whispered in awe:

"Did I just rescue a sea god...?"

Her hand absentmindedly touched her lips. She had just lost her first kiss to a stranger. But looking at his devastatingly handsome face, she thought bitterly, At least it wasn't wasted.

Suddenly, his hand shot up, gripping her wrist with startling strength.

Amara gasped. "Y-you're hurting me-!"

He groaned, brows furrowed, as if fighting his own darkness. His grip tightened, desperate, before finally loosening again.

She staggered back, clutching her wrist. Her heart raced. She had no phone. No way to call for help. What could she do?

Then the sound of a helicopter's blades thundered above. A light swept over the beach, cutting through the night.

Panic jolted her.

She scrambled to her feet, backing away. "Shoot... I can't get involved in this, I don't wanna get in any form of trouble" she muttered.

Amara knelt quickly, slipping the wallet she had earlier into the pocket of his jacket. "Mr. Sea God, I've done what I can. Please... live."

Her voice wavered. She hesitated, drinking in his face one last time. Then she turned and ran, her figure vanishing into the night.

Behind her, the man she had saved stirred faintly, his lashes fluttering open for a second. His gaze caught the shadow of her fleeing figure.

A faint, dangerous but weak smile tugged his lips even as pain kept him down.

The woman who dared to save me... Do you think you can run from me?

Not in this lifetime.