Chapter 2 The Accident

Upstairs, in the suffocating darkness of her tiny room, Amara let the cold water run over her wounds, tears mixing with the droplets. She had no idea her aunt and cousin were already plotting the next cruel move that could shatter what was left of her fragile world.

The icy shower barely numbed the pain that laced Amara's bruised body. By the time she dried off, every muscle ached as though her bones had been crushed. She dragged herself to her narrow little bed, the sheets threadbare and cold against her skin.

Curling into herself, Amara whispered into the silence, her voice trembling.

"Mom... Dad... why did you leave me? Why am I still here when you're not?"

Tears welled up until her lashes were wet, but exhaustion stole her voice. Her body gave in, collapsing into sleep-yet rest didn't come. Instead, memories she tried so hard to bury clawed their way back, pulling her into the nightmare of the night that ruined her life.

---

Once, she had been a princess of Liora-not in title, but in everything that mattered. Her parents, Alexander and Seraphina Callen, weren't royalty, but they were feared, respected, and loved all the same. Alexander Hayes was a brilliant businessman whose word could shift entire markets, and Seraphina was known as the pearl of Liora, her kindness as radiant as her beauty. Together, they were untouchable-or so the world thought.

That night, they had attended a gala, laughter filling the car as they drove home. Amara, barely five, sat at the backseat in her shimmering little dress, clutching the stuffed bunny her father had won for her at the event.

But in an instant, everything shattered.

A blinding light. Screeching tires. The deafening crash of metal folding in on itself.

The truck slammed into their car with brutal force, crushing it into a twisted cage of glass and steel. Amara's small head smacked against the window, leaving her dazed and bleeding. She blinked through the blur, her parents' frantic voices the only anchor to reality.

"Seraphina, stay with me-don't move!" Alexander's voice was hoarse, panicked.

"Amara, baby, are you okay?!" her mother sobbed, trying to reach for her through the mangled space.

Amara whimpered, "Mama... Papa... it hurts."

Before Seraphina could soothe her, Alexander's face hardened. His sharp gaze darted toward the approaching figures-dark silhouettes against the headlights. Men. Dozens of them.

"Stay quiet," he ordered in a low, urgent tone. "No matter what happens, you two must not come out. Do you hear me?"

Seraphina's hand clutched her daughter's, trembling, but she nodded.

Alexander forced his broken body out of the car, blood dripping from his temple. He staggered forward, his hands raised in a plea. "Please, don't-"

The gunshot rang out, merciless and final.

"PAPA!" Amara screamed, but her mother's hand clamped over her mouth.

Seraphina's sob tore from her chest before she could stop it. The men's heads snapped toward the sound.

One of them sneered, raising his weapon.

"NO!" Seraphina shielded her daughter, but the bullet tore through her skull before Amara's terrified eyes.

Blood. Her mother's warm blood sprayed across her face, dripping down her small arms. Amara froze, paralyzed with horror. The men peered into the wreckage, but in the shadows, the little girl remained unseen-too small, too hidden. Satisfied, they left without another glance.

The world went silent.

"Mommy... Daddy..." Amara sobbed, her tiny voice cracking as she shook their lifeless bodies. Her bunny doll slipped from her grasp, soaking in crimson. She cried until her throat was raw, until her tears ran dry.

And at some point, grief swallowed her whole, dragging her into unconsciousness.

---

When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. The hospital's sterile ceiling loomed above her. Her uncle, Gregory Hayes, sat by her side, his expression stiff with something she couldn't name. Relief, maybe. Or was it calculation?

"Your parents are gone," he told her flatly when she asked, his hand heavy on her small shoulder. "There was... an accident."

"Accident?" Amara repeated, her little hands trembling. But she remembered. She saw. Her father begging. The men in black. The blood.

Yet when the news spread across Liora, the truth had been buried. The world mourned Alexander and Seraphina Callen as victims of a tragic car crash. No one spoke of gunshots. No one mentioned murder.

From then on, the girl who was once treated like a princess-the beloved daughter of Liora's most respected couple-was reduced to nothing inside her own home.

Gregory took over her father's company, bringing with him his wife Clarissa and their three children: Melissa; the beautiful and cruel eldest, Cassandra; quiet but sharp-eyed, and Liam; the smug younger son who followed their mother's lead.

At first, they smiled at Amara, played nice, even called her "sister." But masks always crack. And when they finally did, Amara learned the bitter truth-her father's house no longer belonged to her.

---

Amara shot awake, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat. Her trembling hands clutched her chest as if to keep her heart from breaking free. The echo of her mother's scream and her father's pleading still rang in her ears.

She buried her face in her pillow, tears spilling once more. She had been only five when the world ripped everything from her. And now, years later, she was still paying the price.

But deep inside, beneath all the pain, one thought burned like fire.

It wasn't an accident. They were killed.

And one day, she would find out why.

A piercing pain throbbed behind her temples. She dragged her weary body off the bed and stumbled toward the little wooden cupboard at the corner of her cramped room. Her fingers fumbled as she opened the drawer, taking out a half-empty blister pack.

She popped two pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry, her brows furrowed deeply. These headaches had plagued her ever since the accident. Nightmares of that night never left her alone, haunting her sleep, hunting her even in the day.

Before the medicine could settle in, a sharp knock rattled her door.

"Miss Amara," a servant's shrill voice called, dripping with disdain. When she opened the door, the young maid stood there with a curled lip, eyes filled with contempt. "The master demands your presence."

Amara ignored the servant's expression, replying curtly, "I'll be down." Then she shut the door in the girl's face, not even sparing her another glance.

---

The grand living room of the Hayes estate was bathed in golden sunlight, yet to Amara it always felt suffocating. Her uncle, Gregory, sat at the head of the table, his sharp features twisted into a frown as soon as his eyes landed on her.

That look of disdain was one she knew well-it had become his permanent expression whenever he regarded her.

"You took your time," he barked coldly. "I summoned you because there's an announcement. Your sister's engagement ceremony with Kael Ashford will be held here."

Amara froze for only a heartbeat before her lips curled bitterly. Her voice was cold when she spoke.

"She's not my sister."

SLAM!

The table shook violently as Gregory's palm came crashing down. His eyes flared with fury, his veins bulging on his neck.

"Ungrateful brat!" he roared. "How dare you speak that way? You're nothing but an unfilial child! Had it not been for me, you'd be rotting on the streets!"

Beside him, Clarissa touched his arm lightly, her painted lips pulling into a fake, gentle smile. "Calm down, dear... She doesn't know what she's saying."