Chapter 3 Fragile yet Radiant

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.