The rain had returned—soft, almost tender—as it tapped against the windows of the hospital room like it shared Talia's grief. The sterile white light hummed faintly overhead, but it was the quiet, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor that gave her hope. Jade was still alive. Still holding on.
She sat beside his bed, her fingers curled around his limp hand. His face was calm, peaceful even, as though he was simply asleep. But it had been five years. Five long, harrowing years.
"Do you remember when you taught me how to sketch faces?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "I drew Mum with a crooked smile, and you told me it looked like she was laughing. You made me believe I was an artist, even when no one else did."
There had been a time when Talia and Jade were inseparable. He was her older brother, her protector, her biggest fan. As children, they'd sit under the giant sycamore tree in the Rivers estate garden, their sketchbooks sprawled on the grass, trading dreams like promises. He'd tell her stories of heroes and kingdoms, of mothers who loved too deeply and fathers who disappeared into the shadows.
Now she wondered if those stories had been truths in disguise.
"Why didn't you tell me what you were about to do that night?" she asked, stroking his hand gently. "Why did you go alone?"
It was the question that haunted her every day. The accident that had left Jade in a coma was no accident at all. He had found something—something dangerous enough to silence him. He had tried to tell her, but he'd been stopped. The car crash, the hushed investigation, the disappearing files—everything pointed to foul play. But no one listened. No one ever listened to an orphaned girl without power.
Except Agnes.
Talia's best friend stood near the door, arms folded, her eyes locked on the machines as if daring them to stop. "I still think your stepmother knows more than she lets on," Agnes muttered. "Claudia was furious the night of the accident. She disappeared for hours. Then suddenly, Jade's in a coma, and everything is quiet again."
Talia nodded slowly. "I've always felt like I didn't belong. But I thought that was just... grief. Now I'm not so sure."
She looked down at Jade, who looked far older than his twenty-five years. "He knew something. And I think it has to do with me. With who I am."
Agnes knelt beside her. "You're stronger than you think. Even when the whole world tries to dim your light, you keep shining."
"I'm marrying Liam Westwood," Talia blurted out before she could stop herself.
Agnes blinked. "Wait—what?"
"It's a contract. No one knows, not even his family. Not really. His grandmother arranged it."
"Is this some twisted billionaire tradition?" Agnes scowled. "Why would someone like Liam Westwood marry anyone by contract, let alone you—"
Talia cut her off with a bitter smile. "Because I'm a shadow in the eyes of the world. Easy to control. Or so they think."
Agnes's face softened. "But you're not. You're fire, Talia. You're just learning how to burn."
---
Meanwhile, across Manhattan, Liam Westwood stood at the window of his penthouse, staring at the city lights that shimmered like stars caught between steel and ambition. He could still hear his grandmother's voice in his head.
"She needs an anchor, Liam. Someone who won't let her sink under the weight of what's coming."
And somehow, he was supposed to be that anchor.
His jaw clenched as he took another sip of whiskey. "What did you get me into, Grandma?" he muttered.
His phone buzzed on the table. A message from his assistant:
Media is starting to ask questions. Want me to release a vague statement?
Liam sighed and typed back:
No. Let them wonder. For now.
He knew Claudia Rivers wouldn't take the news well. That woman had always hovered on the edge of scandal, clinging to her late husband's name like a drowning woman clings to driftwood. And her daughter—Bianca—wasn't exactly subtle in her ambitions. He'd caught her staring at him with poorly disguised hunger at countless charity events.
But Talia... she was different. Quiet, withdrawn, bruised by the world but not broken. And utterly untouchable.
He could still remember her eyes the day she signed the contract—filled with fear, but also defiance. There was something about her that stirred him, something he hadn't expected. And that was dangerous.
---
Back in the hospital, Talia pressed a kiss to her brother's forehead.
"I'm going to find out the truth, Jade. About everything. About Mum. About us. And about why Liam Westwood, the richest man in New York, is pretending to love a girl like me."
She stood slowly, and Agnes came to her side. "Where to now?" her friend asked.
Talia's eyes narrowed. "Home. I need to know why my stepmother's been acting so nervous lately. And why she's suddenly terrified of my marriage."
---
That evening, at the Rivers residence, Claudia stood in her walk-in closet, tearing through dresses like they'd personally offended her. Bianca lounged on the bed in a satin robe, sipping red wine and scrolling through social media.
"She's marrying Liam Westwood," Claudia hissed, turning with fury in her eyes. "That little mistake is marrying into a fortune. My God, what if she finds out the truth?"
Bianca didn't look up. "Maybe she already knows. She's not as stupid as you think."
Claudia's face paled. "Then we're finished."
Bianca finally met her mother's gaze. "No. We're not. We just need to remind her who she is. And who she's not."
Claudia clenched her fists. "If Daniel Rivers were alive—"
"He'd hand everything to her," Bianca snapped. "That's why you married him, remember? To keep her close. To make sure we stayed in control."
There was a beat of silence.
"Then control her," Claudia whispered. "Before the Westwoods realize who she really is."
Outside the room, Talia stood in the hallway, her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened.
Her hand pressed against the wall for support as her heart thundered in her chest.
Who she really is?