Chapter 2
“Sweetheart,” Grace said softly, voice warm like always, “Landon and Logan grew up with you. You’re close. But this is your life, your choice. Who do you want by your side forever?”
Everyone turned to look at me. It got dead quiet. Like funeral-level quiet. Because this decision didn’t just affect me—it was about the future of the entire Holt empire.
I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I was the maid’s daughter.
My mom worked for the Holts. When I was five, she died saving Aunt Grace from a fire in the estate’s wine cellar.
Her last words were choked with pain and fear:
“Please… just look after my little girl.”
And Grace swore, tears running down her face, “From now on, Savannah is mine. She’ll be treated like family. Like my own daughter. And she’ll be our future daughter-in-law.”
Mom smiled as she died.
And they kept that promise. I was raised in silk sheets and gold cutlery. Private school. Designer everything. The Holt twins were my protectors, my shadows, my gods.
And now I had to pick one. Like this was some sick Hunger Games: Relationship Edition.
How the hell was I supposed to choose between two boys I loved like home?
I glanced at both of them, hoping they’d offer help—maybe even volunteer for rock-paper-scissors.
Then the screen exploded with new comments.
“Why the hell is she acting like this is hard?”
“She really thinks both brothers want her? Please.”
“The only reason they’re even pretending is ‘cause Holt Mommy forced them to.”
“She’s got a sob story, boo-hoo. Doesn’t make her likable.”
“I signed up for a juicy love triangle. Not this mess.”
“At least she dies screaming on an operating table. Silver lining!”
Every single comment hit like a punch to the gut. Mean. Vicious.
I pinched my arm—hard.
It hurt.
Not a dream.
Not a hallucination.
I was trapped in some twisted romance novel where I was the evil side chick. The disposable character. The filler. The one who gets married out of guilt, hated by her husband, and dies bleeding alone while the real couple rides off into the sunset.
I wanted to scream.
Because they were wrong. Weren’t they?
Landon and Logan had always looked out for me. Held my hand when I cried. Snuck me snacks. Fought for me. Loved me.
Right?
…Right?
Then I looked up at their faces. And my heart cracked.
Because I saw it again.
That same flicker of disgust.
