1 On the day of what was meant to be my eighteenth birthday party—but was really Chloe’s—my father came home with a dress box from a Fifth Avenue boutique. Inside was a cascade of silk and seed pearls. Chloe, my adopted sister, rushed to him, linking her arm through his with the easy ownership she’d cultivated over a decade. “Daddy, you shouldn’t have,” she purred. “But I’m so glad you did.” My brother, Ethan, followed her, a warm smile gracing his lips. “Good choice, Dad. It’ll look stunning on her.” I instinctively took a step back, my fingers smoothing over the faded fabric of my worn-out blouse. A thing of such beauty was never meant for me. In this house, I was a ghost, a reminder of a tragedy they had all decided was my fault. But this time, my father’s eyes found mine. He gestured for me to come forward and placed the heavy, luxurious box into my hands. “It’s for Elara.” The air in the grand foyer crackled with a sudden, sharp tension. Chloe’s smile froze, cracking at the edges. Ethan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stepped forward, ready to champion her cause. “Dad, it’s Chloe’s birthday too!” he protested, snatching the box from my grasp. He glared at me, his voice laced with the familiar contempt I’d grown up with. “Someone like her has no right to wear something this beautiful.” The fragile flicker of hope that had ignited in my chest was instantly extinguished. But my father, for the first time in ten years, ignored them. He took the box back from Ethan and pressed it firmly into my hands again, his gaze unreadable. “We have guests arriving soon. Go get ready. I want you to look presentable.” Ethan let out a sound of disgust, a short, sharp tsk. He turned his back on me, wrapping a comforting arm around Chloe’s shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, loud enough for me to hear. “He just bought you that sapphire necklace, remember? Put it on. Let everyone see who the real Sterling family daughter is.” He shot me one last, cold look before leading Chloe away. Ethan was my brother. We’d shared a womb, a childhood, a mother. He knew better than anyone who the real daughter was. But the day the ocean took our mother, it took my family, too. In their eyes, I was no longer a daughter or a sister. I was the sin they couldn’t wash away. I took a deep breath and, against my better judgment, I put on the dress. When I emerged, the house was already filled with people. They were Chloe’s friends, mostly—a flock of girls who knew which way the social winds blew. Whenever they visited, Chloe would introduce me with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, that’s just Elara. She helps around the house.” My father and brother had given her the confidence to transform from the timid orphan she once was into the reigning princess of our home. One of the girls, a blonde named Tiffany, spotted me and smirked. “Chloe, you’re a saint. Dressing the help better than some of the guests.” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll outshine you?” another chimed in. Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she looked me over. Before she could speak, Ethan stepped in, his voice dripping with condescension. “Putting a designer dress on a nobody doesn’t change who she is. It takes more than that to have class.” The group laughed. Tiffany, sensing an opportunity for sport, sauntered over and nudged my foot with the pointed toe of her designer heel. “Hey, you. Get me a glass of champagne.” For ten years, since I lost my mother, I had lost the will to fight. I’d absorbed their cruelty, their neglect, their endless slights, believing it was my penance. But the weight of the silk, the shimmer of the pearls… it had woken something in me. A foolish, dangerous spark of defiance. I shook my head. “I’m not the maid. You can get it yourself.” A flash of anger crossed her face. She spun around to Chloe. “Can you believe the nerve? If she worked for my family, she’d be fired on the spot!” Before Chloe could reply, my father called her over. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment, and when she returned, her expression had shifted into one of magnanimous pity. “I’ve always thought of Elara as a sister,” she announced to her friends. “Please, don’t tease her.” A short while later, my father stood on the makeshift stage in the ballroom, a microphone in his hand. He began his speech with a tribute to my mother, his voice thick with practiced grief. Then, he turned his attention to Chloe. “We have cherished Chloe, my son and I, raised her as our own precious girl,” he said, his voice resonating through the speakers. “Today she turns eighteen. I wish her a life filled with joy and peace.” An ache bloomed in my chest. Since Mom was gone, no one had wished me joy. My life had become an endless act of atonement. Then, my father’s gaze fell on me. His eyes held a strange mixture of hesitation and something else… something I couldn’t decipher. My heart hammered against my ribs. I clutched the silk of the dress, my knuckles white. He raised his hand, pointing directly at me. The spotlight operator, following his gesture, swung a bright, searing beam onto me, blinding me for a second. And then he spoke, his voice cold and clear, for everyone to hear. “The maid. Who gave you permission to steal my daughter’s dress?” The world stopped. A wave of whispers washed over the room. Tiffany let out a snort of laughter, clapping Chloe on the shoulder. “I knew it! No wonder she had such an attitude. A common thief.” A chill, colder than any ocean wave, seeped into my bones. This wasn’t a peace offering. It was a public execution. Ethan appeared at my side, his breath a cold whisper in my ear. “This is for Mom,” he hissed. “You don’t deserve to live, let alone be loved.” 2 My mind snapped back a decade. The sun, the sand, the salt-laced air. Our first and only family trip to the coast. My father, Richard, had Ethan perched on his shoulders. My mother, Eleanor, held my hand, her grip warm and firm. “Stay out of the water, my love,” she’d warned gently. “The tide is strong today.” I’d nodded obediently, content to build a sandcastle at the edge of the surf. But as a wave rushed in, I felt it—a sharp, deliberate shove from behind. I tumbled into the churning water, swallowing a mouthful of saltwater, crying out in panic. My mother heard me. She ran into the waves without a second’s thought, her only goal to reach me. She pushed my small, sputtering body towards the shore, into Ethan’s waiting arms. Then the big one came. A wall of green and white that rose up and crashed down, swallowing her whole. My father searched for her like a madman, screaming her name until his voice was raw, until the sun had sunk below the horizon and the sky was bruised with twilight. The lifeguards who finally arrived told him what he already knew. Just beyond the breakers was a treacherous rocky cliff face. She was gone. He cried all night. The next day, he was a different man. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a permanent winter. He forbade me from calling him “Dad.” Ethan, traumatized, fell into a fever that lasted three days. He called for Mom in his delirium, and my father sat by his bed, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. When he looked at me, standing in the doorway chewing on my fingernails, his grief curdled into rage. “Your mother told you to stay out of the water! Why didn’t you listen?” he roared. “You killed the only person I ever loved. You are not my daughter anymore!” I sobbed, clinging to his legs, trying to explain that I was pushed. But when he demanded to know who, the words died in my throat. I hadn’t seen them. I didn’t know. That was the day my father gave up on me completely. He never held me again. When Ethan recovered, the first thing he did was convince our father to take him to an orphanage. He personally selected a girl who shared our birthday. He brought Chloe home. They poured all their broken, misdirected love into her. And I, who had once been the center of their world, became the family servant. I woke before dawn to make breakfast, meticulously preparing the seafood risotto Chloe favored. My father drove her to her private academy in his Mercedes. I walked the three miles to the public school, rain or shine. Whenever tears threatened to fall, I would pull out the worn photograph of my mother I kept hidden in my pocket. Her last words to me, screamed over the roar of the ocean, were, “Live, Elara. Just live.” For her, I had endured. I had made it to eighteen. I was almost free. But my father’s words now were a blade twisting in my heart. Mom, I don’t think I can keep my promise much longer. Ethan grabbed my arm, his grip bruising, and yanked me to the floor. “Stop playing dead. That dress costs a fortune. How do you plan on paying for it?” Chloe drifted over, her expression a perfect mask of sorrow. “Elara, I thought of you as family. How could you disappoint me like this?” It took a moment for my voice to work. “It’s not your dress, Chloe,” I whispered, my gaze fixed on the man on the stage. “He… my father… he gave it to me.” A murmur rippled through the guests at my use of the word “father.” “I didn’t know Richard Sterling had another daughter.” “Look at her… she has Eleanor’s eyes. A spitting image of his late wife.” The whispers grew louder. My father descended the stairs, his face a thundercloud. He stalked towards me, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look at him. “I told you never to call me that,” he snarled. “You are not worthy.” The crowd gasped. He straightened up, addressing the room. “She was my daughter,” he announced, his voice booming with authority. “But the day her carelessness killed my wife, I swore I would never acknowledge her again.” Chloe’s friends stared at me with newfound disgust. “You’re the reason Mrs. Sterling is dead?” one of them whispered. “You’re a monster.” Looking at the cold stranger who was once my father, the tears I had held back for a decade finally broke free. “She wasn’t killed by me! I was pushed—!” The sharp crack of his hand across my face silenced me. The world tilted, my cheek screaming in pain. “You do not speak her name!” he bellowed, his carefully constructed facade of a grieving, gentle widower shattered. It was the first time he had ever hit me in front of anyone. He turned away from my crumpled form on the floor, his voice regaining its composure. “From now on, she is simply the help. Anyone here… feel free to make use of her.” 3 He returned to the stage and announced, “Let the party begin.” Chloe, surrounded by her court, glided to the head table, pausing to look down at me. “Well, you heard him, Elara,” she said sweetly. “My friends are thirsty.” The eyes on me were no longer just curious; they were predatory. Hands beckoned, voices called out orders for wine, for appetizers. Tiffany swaggered over, a triumphant smirk on her face. She leaned down, tapping my stinging cheek. “Now,” she said, “about that champagne?” Numbly, I retrieved a glass and handed it to her. She took it, and with a deliberate flick of her wrist, she emptied its contents all over her own dress. Chloe and her friends rushed over at Tiffany’s shriek. “I just asked her for a drink!” Tiffany wailed, clutching at her stained gown. “She’s so arrogant, she just threw it at me! This is haute couture! Can she even afford to have it cleaned?” Chloe looked at me, her eyes brimming with false disappointment. “Elara, why must you always make things so difficult for everyone?” A blond boy I recognized as Julian Vance, whose family was notoriously wealthy and equally notorious for their scandals, stepped forward. “Chloe, darling, don’t let this trash ruin your night. I’ll handle it.” His eyes roamed over me like I was something on a menu. He picked up a full glass of red wine from a passing tray and poured it slowly over my head, drenching the bodice of the pearl dress. The silk clung to me, outlining everything beneath. The room erupted in laughter. I crossed my arms over my chest, humiliated, desperate to escape. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I’ll pay for the dress. I’ll work to pay for it.” “Pay with what?” Julian sneered, his gaze lingering. He licked his lips. “You know, you’re not bad looking under all that misery. Why don’t you come with me? My family has a little money. You behave, and I’ll treat you better than they ever did here.” A cold sweat broke out on my back. I shook my head frantically. “No, I have money, I can pay…” He ignored me, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder with practiced ease. “Chloe,” he called out, “is there an empty room I can borrow?” I tried to scream, but Chloe was already there, stuffing a silk napkin into my mouth. She leaned close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “The Vances are powerful people in this city. Make him happy, Elara. He can give you things my father and brother never would.” She patted my cheek, a gesture that was anything but kind, and pointed towards a guest room down the hall. “Have fun.” I struggled, but Julian’s grip was like iron. My gaze fell upon my brother, Ethan, standing just a few feet away, his expression conflicted. Chloe noticed him, too. She simply walked over, said something with a pretty pout, and he turned his back on me. Decisively. Completely. Tears of utter despair streamed down my face. How could they be so cruel? A voice cut through the haze of my panic. “What’s going on here?” It was my father. He looked at Chloe, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “This is your party, for God’s sake. If they want to do this, I’ll get them a hotel room.” He then looked at me, slung over Julian’s shoulder, with chilling indifference. He turned back to Chloe. “I left your real gift in your room. Go on up.” Then, he faced Julian, a placid, businesslike smile on his face. “To be chosen by you, Julian, is the girl’s good fortune.” Julian looked surprised, then chuckled, his breath hot against my ear. “You see that? Your own father is giving you to me. Who am I to refuse? I never thought a Sterling girl would be so easy to get.” My father grunted. “This is the price she pays.” His voice was devoid of all emotion. “I’ve raised her for eighteen years. It’s time she started repaying the debt.” I closed my eyes, my body trembling uncontrollably. Mom, forgive me. I can’t live like you asked me to. As I prepared to bite down on my own tongue, to end it all, a shimmering image appeared in the darkness of my mind. It was my mother, her face a mask of horror, reaching for me. “Elara!”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394224", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel