Chapter 5

Eleanore POV:

A kind hiker, a stranger, found me bleeding on the path and helped me down the mountain, calling for an ambulance. In the emergency room, the nurses looked at me with thinly veiled disapproval. "Another one of these domestic incidents, huh?" one whispered to another as they cleaned my wound. I couldn't bring myself to explain. What was there to say? My family beat me up, not out of malice, but out of their blinding self-interest and allegiance to a conniving girl. It sounded insane.

While they stitched my scalp, my phone buzzed. A video message from Josie. She filmed herself in front of a mirror, a small bruise on her cheek, expertly applied with makeup, no doubt. "Oh my god, Eleanore, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall like that, and I know you didn't mean to... well, you know. Mom and Dad are so worried about your head. They said to send you this. See? I'm fine. Just a little bump. Nothing compared to what you endured!" The camera panned slightly to reveal my parents and Colbert in the background, hovering over Josie, doting on her, feeding her grapes. My mother was stroking Josie' s hair, her face a picture of maternal concern. My father was loudly demanding a doctor check Josie's "blood pressure from the shock."

Josie's voice, sickly sweet, continued, "Mom and Dad said they' re so relieved I'm going to New York instead of you. You're just too sensitive for all that pressure, Eleanore. You know, with Kayson Knight still in a coma and all. It would have killed you."

The knife twisted. They truly believed I was weak, that I was grateful to be spared. They didn't even acknowledge my pain, only Josie's manufactured drama. My heart turned to ice. I deleted the message.

I discharged myself against medical advice and returned to the cold, empty mansion. I stayed in my room, the silence a strange comfort after years of emotional warfare. I didn' t come out, not even for meals. Days blurred into a week. My birthday arrived, unmarked, uncelebrated.

Until that evening. A distant hum of music, a sudden burst of laughter from downstairs. I cautiously crept out of my room, drawn by the unusual commotion. The grand ballroom, usually reserved for formal galas, was ablaze with lights. Streamers, balloons, a towering cake-it was a party. A birthday party. Josie' s birthday party.

My mother, spotting me on the landing, gave a small, forced smile. "Eleanore! Darling! Come down! We're celebrating Josie's birthday! It's so important to mark these occasions, you know." Her voice was strained.

My father beamed. "Josie deserves this after all the stress Eleanore has put her through." He gestured to two beautifully wrapped gifts on a table. One, small and elegant, clearly for Josie. The other, surprisingly, was also quite large. "We got something for both our girls," he announced to the room, though his eyes lingered on Josie.

I overheard a maid whispering to another. "Poor Miss Eleanore. Always getting the short end of the stick. Everyone knows who the real favorite is."

I retreated, a phantom in my own home. Back in my room, I whispered to myself, a bitter affirmation, "I am the intended bride. I am the one meant to marry Kayson Knight." The words were a quiet vow, a reclamation of my fate.

Downstairs, Josie was draped in white silk, a radiant vision. She danced, she laughed, she accepted accolades. The spotlight, always her natural habitat, followed her every move. I watched from the shadows, an invisible guest at my own family' s celebration of my replacement. No one noticed me. No one spoke to me. A tray of canapés passed, overflowing with seafood, a cruel irony given my severe shellfish allergy. They didn't even remember that.

Then came the procession of gifts, a grotesque display of their devotion to Josie. My mother presented her with a trust fund, a substantial portion of the Spence family wealth. My father, beaming, handed her a portfolio. "Shares in Spence Corp, darling. You're family now." The guests whispered, impressed.

Finally, Colbert stepped forward, holding a crimson velvet box. He opened it, revealing a magnificent diamond and ruby necklace, a Spence family heirloom, once promised to me. "For my dearest sister," he announced, placing it around Josie's neck. "You deserve all the beauty in the world."

The crowd gasped. Murmurs erupted. "Isn't that...?" "The Spence family seems to truly adore her." "Poor Eleanore, she's practically disappeared."

As Josie basked in the spotlight, draped in jewels that should have been mine, I felt a strange sense of clarity. They weren't just giving her things; they were giving her my identity, piece by agonizing piece. And I was letting them.