The world had never been kind to me.Mocked. Looked down upon. Called trash.Even my fiancé, the one man who was supposed to see me, loved my stepsister instead.
I learned early on that speaking up never mattered—words only led to blows, and silence at least let me disappear. I lived like a ghost, slipping through shadows, unseen and unwanted. Not because I was naïve, but because I was afraid—and I knew it.
It began the day my world ended.The day they buried my mother.
I was only three, small hands clutching at nothing as the earth swallowed her forever. My father's hand wasn't there to comfort me. Instead, he returned that day with a woman dressed in pearls and silk, her blonde hair cascading in polished waves. She smiled with red-painted lips that never reached her eyes and told me to call her Mother.
Beside her stood a girl—delicate curls tied up with satin ribbons, wearing a matching luxury dress. She was one year older than me, bright-eyed and smiling sweetly as she reached for my hand.
"Sister, let's play," she said, her voice like sugar. Father's face lit up, so I followed.
I didn't know then that in Edina's world, "play" meant a mountain of bullying.
When I tried to tell Father, Lucinda—her elegant, cruel mother—would cut me off with cold whispers:"Don't trouble your father, child. Remember, it was your birth that killed your poor mother. Be grateful he even looks at you. Just let your sister play as she likes."
So I stayed silent. I stayed small. Because Father's smile was the only thing I wanted to protect, even if it meant burying my pain.
But as the years passed, silence became my prison. Edina's games sharpened into cruelty. My father, always busy, rarely saw it. On the rare occasions he noticed, he treated me like a princess. And that was what Edina hated most. She wanted everything I had—my father's love, my fiancé, even my beauty.
And my beauty was the one thing she could never destroy. I was praised for it endlessly—eyes like moonlit lakes, skin soft and unblemished, hair that fell in dark waves like silk. To Edina, I was a threat she couldn't erase. So I learned to hide it. I wore plain clothes, kept my hair tucked away, and masked my radiance beneath shadows.
Seventeen years later, after Lucinda finally succeeded in convincing Father to cast me out, I lived far from the Kyle family mansion. Three years of exile had taught me how to survive. Now, I ran a small coffee shop on a quiet street. I greeted every customer with a delicate smile, pretending not to carry the ruins of my past inside me.
"Evie! Evie!"
The soft, familiar voice tugged me back from my thoughts. Mrs. Williams, a kind old widow with silver hair pulled into a bun, peered at me with gentle concern. A bright scarf wrapped around her neck, and her hands clutched her coin purse tightly.
"Darling, are you alright?" she asked.
I forced a smile. "Oh, Mrs. Williams, I'm sorry—I got distracted. What would you like today?"
Her gaze softened as she eyed the display case. "Those cupcakes look divine, as always. I'll take my usual, dear."
"One blueberry muffin and a cup of chamomile tea, coming right up!" I said, giving her a playful salute before turning to the counter. The aroma of fresh pastries swirled around me as I worked quickly.
"You're such a good girl, Evie," Mrs. Williams said warmly. "Running this place all on your own… Your father would be proud."
My chest tightened. I forced a brighter smile as I handed her the tea. "I just like keeping busy. My father… yes, I suppose he's proud."But in truth, I didn't know. Did he even care anymore?
As Mrs. Williams walked out, the little bell above the door chimed again.
This time, the air shifted.
A tall, imposing figure entered, dressed head to toe in black. His tailored coat swept behind him as if the shadows clung to him. His lower face was hidden behind a sleek mask, and dark glasses shielded his eyes, but nothing could disguise the dominance he radiated.
His presence was thunder. Heavy, suffocating. Each step seemed to echo, the floor trembling as though it recognized the weight of his aura.
My breath caught as he approached the counter. My heart pounded, an instinctive unease crawling through my veins. Who was this man, shrouded in mystery, wrapped in silence and power?
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[ 3 hours earlier ]
BLACK DRAGON VILLA
In the dim glow of a luxurious study, a dark figure leaned back in a leather chair, a dagger twirling effortlessly between his veined fingers. The Sixth Young Master of the Griffen family looked like a man born of darkness itself—sharp jawline, cold lips, and eyes that glinted like steel beneath his lashes.
SYLIUS GRIFFEN twirled a dagger between his fingers, its blade catching what little light the lamp allowed.
The Sixth Young Master of the Griffen underworld empire was not known for patience.
The door creaked open, and a man dressed in black bowed deeply. "Sixth Lord."
Without looking up, Sylius's voice rolled through the air like thunder. "The investigation."
"Boss, we confirmed it. Edward Kyle fled F Country. Records show he purchased a ticket to Russia."
The dagger stilled. A smile—cold, razor-thin—curved Sylius's lips. "So, he thinks he can run after deceiving me? Am I just a stepping stone in his eyes?"
The subordinate, known in the underworld as Black Spider, lowered his gaze. "Shall I send word to the Scorpion gang in Russia to capture and eliminate him?"
Sylius chuckled darkly, tapping the dagger against the armrest. "Too easy. He wants to play games? Then I'll play along."
That smile was enough to chill even Black Spider, who knew his master never forgave betrayal.
"What are your orders, Boss?"
"Gather Gang Three. Tonight, we pay the Kyle mansion a visit." His tone carried a murderous promise, each word as sharp as the blade in his hand.