Chapter 3

The rain fell in a cold, steady drizzle, matching the bleakness in Karissa's heart. She didn't know where to go, how to escape the wreckage of her life.

She sent her driver home, wanting to be alone.

She walked aimlessly through the city streets, a solitary figure under a black umbrella. The bustling city, with its bright lights and happy crowds, only made her feel more isolated.

She stopped in front of a small music shop. A sad song was playing, the lyrics telling a story of love and loss that felt painfully familiar.

"Promises... what are promises for?"

She stood there for a long time, the word "promise" echoing in her mind.

She remembered the first time she met Brady. She was a lost, scared child, just found by the wealthy Simon family after being lost for years. He was the golden boy of the Kennedy family, a friend of her older brother.

He had promised to protect her then. He had called her his little sister.

She had called him "Brady," just like everyone else. It was a term of endearment, a symbol of their closeness.

When had it all gone so wrong? Was it when his family fell from grace, a disaster he blamed on her father? Was it when he was forced to marry her to save what was left of his company?

The rain turned into a downpour. Night fell.

She went home to an empty house and a cold bed. Sleep offered no escape. Her illness brought with it terrible nightmares.

She dreamed of Brady leaving her, of him standing with Hettie, their hands intertwined. In the dream, he looked at her with pure hatred. "You're the one who took everything from her," he accused.

A cold touch on her cheek woke her up.

She opened her eyes to see Brady's face looming over her, his expression cold and unreadable in the dim light.

"Brady," she murmured, still half-asleep.

He frowned. "You were having a nightmare. Calling out a name."

"Callum," she said, trying to sit up. She didn't want him to know about her illness. "I was just dreaming of my brother."

He cut her off. "Your brother? Or your lover?"

The accusation hit her like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Karissa," he sneered. "I saw you with him. At the hospital. You think I'm a fool?"

He grabbed her, pulling her into a rough embrace. The smell of him, a mixture of rain and something uniquely his, filled her senses.

She struggled against him, the injustice of his accusation making her feel sick. "He's my doctor! And my brother!"

He mistook her resistance for guilt. His grip tightened, his actions becoming more forceful, more punishing.

A trickle of warmth ran from her nose. She knew it was blood, but he was behind her and wouldn't see.

Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes fell on the bottle of pills on her nightstand.

"Don't forget to take your medicine," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She remembered his conversation with Hettie at the hospital. He had promised to take Hettie to the best doctors. He was worried about Hettie's health.

The thought was a fresh wave of pain. Her throat felt tight, and she couldn't speak.

She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

The next morning, her phone rang, shrill and urgent. It was her assistant.

"Ms. Simon, there's a problem at the company. Several of our key projects have been sabotaged. And... and Ms. Lindsey is here, claiming she's the rightful heir."

Karissa felt a chill run down her spine. "I know. I'm on my way."

She got dressed and headed to the office, her mind a whirl of pain and confusion.

On the way, she leaned back and closed her eyes, memories flooding her. She remembered being found, the confusion of her new life. She remembered another girl, Hettie, who had been mistaken for her, living her life for years. When the truth came out, Hettie was kept in the family, treated like a princess, while Karissa was always the outsider, the replacement.

She arrived at the top floor. The door to her office was open.

Hettie was sitting in a wheelchair, a smug smile on her face. Brady stood beside her, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder.

"Look who's here," Hettie said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Poor Karissa. You look terrible."

Karissa didn't respond. She just looked at Brady.

Suddenly, two security guards appeared. "Ms. Simon," one of them said, his voice firm. "You are accused of corporate espionage and sabotaging company projects. Please come with us."