Chapter 3
I went to my father and asked for my mother’s belongings back-
just a sketchbook and easel that looked plain on the outside. But inside were nearly monthly portraits of me before the age of six-
Each drawn while she was bedridden, clinging to what little life she had left.
Each page carried the quiet, unwavering love of a mother etched in fading pencil lines.
I didn’t learn the truth until Vivienne moved into our home–That my mother had had taken her own life, driven to despair after my
father’s affair.
Vivienne was just two years younger than me.
The day I found out, I nearly beat her within an inch of her life.
But
my father used
my mother’s last keepsakes to shut me up-
Threatening to destroy them if I ever revealed Vivienne’s bloodline.
Now that I was about to leave for Castalia, it was time to even the score.
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I took the sketchbook, paid a visit to my uncle, and then made a quiet stop at the Whitmore Group’s boardroom.
After years
years of swallowing humiliation, I wouldn’t leave without leaving behind a gift—for Richard, and for his precious bastard daughter.se
Of course, none of it could leak before I left the country.
The timing had to be… surgical.
When I got home, my bedroom had been completely emptied.
Everything I owned had been dumped into the living ro
Auto–added to the Library
Including the thirty–seven porcelain dolls Sebastian once crafted by my hand.
Each lay shattered, their delicate pieces scattered like worthless junk.
Vivienne stood nearby, guilt across her fate–but the gleam in her eyes gave her away.
“I’m so sorry, Helena,” she stammered. “Dad said your room gets the best light–it will help me recover fast.”
“As for the dolls, the maids knocked them over while moving furniture. I’ll pay for them, whatever they cost. Daddy just gave me his Signature Gold Concierge Card.”
She held it up so casually–the very card reserved for the Whitmore heir.
I stepped forward, expression unreadable.
Sebastian suddenly moved between us, as if bracing for an attack.
“They’re just dolls, Helena. Is this really worth a meltdown?”
But they weren’t just dolls.
Sebastian had crafted every one of them by hand.
He once promised he’d keep making them for me—for as long as I liked.
Turns out his promises were just as fragile–and short–lived–as porcelain.
All it took was one little stunt from Vivienne, and they crumbled to dust.
Maybe my mistake was believing the promises of a man who’d already made his choice..
Chapter 3
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When I caught the smug glint in Vivienne’s eyes, I realized how pointless it all was.
I brushed past Sebastian, picked up my luggage, and moved into the guest room without a word.
He stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, frowning as he watched me leave.
The next morning, there was a knock at my door.
I opened it to find all thirty–seven porcelain dolls lined up in silence–brand new, unfired, still soft touch.
There was only one person who’d do this.
I let out a bitter laugh and shut the door without a word.
But half an hour later, I opened the door again.
And this time brought the dolls inside.
Chapter 3
