Tracy's POV
The hum of the car engine was steady, almost soothing. Rain still battered the windows, but inside it was warm, almost too warm. My wet gown clung to me, making me shiver even as the heater hummed. I kept my arms wrapped around myself, as if holding the pieces of me together.
The old woman— her name was Mrs. Callahan, I'd learned when she introduced herself softly. Mrs. Callahan didn't say much. She drove in silence. She kept glancing at me from the corner of her eye. She did not ask questions. She just drove, lips pressed tight, as if she knew pressing me would make me shatter.. and I appreciated that she didn't because only one thought was on my mind - Home.
For a while, the only sounds were the storm outside and the wipers dragging back and forth across the windshield. Then as if to fill the silence, suddenly, she reached out and flicked on the radio.
"Maybe the news will distract you. " she said kindly. "Get your mind off… well, everything." She let out a small smile.
I didn't answer. I stared at my hands, swollen and raw, resting in my lap.
Static filled the car for a second before a crisp male voice broke through:
"— and in breaking news, Northstone City is still in shock over the disappearance of Tracy Alcott, the first daughter and heiress to the Alcott empire."
My heart stopped. My body went cold. Much colder than I was before. My disappearances is on the news already.
"Wait." she said slowly. "Did he just say… Tracy Alcott?" Mrs. Callahan's eyes darted toward me, then back to the road. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I couldn't answer. My lips trembled, but no sound came. I jerked my head up, staring at the dashboard.
My name. My life.
The voice went on, calm and professional, but each word was like a blade carving into me. My heart raced and my ears flicked trying to catch every single sentence - word and alphabet.
"The bride fled the altar this morning, vanishing without a trace, reportedly taking with her a large sum of money. Sources close to the family suggest the heiress planned the escape weeks in advance. In what many are calling the scandal of the year, Tracy Alcott has humiliated her family and abandoned her fiancé.""
"What— " My voice cracked, too soft. I lifted my head, staring at the radio like it had betrayed me. I shook my head slowly as I tightened the grip on my dress "No…"
What is he saying? I fled the alter with a large sun of money? What money?
"They're talking about you?" Mrs. Callahan's voice faltered. But I barely heard her.
She let out a sharp breath. She looked at me again, suspicion in her wrinkled eyes. "Child… is that you? Are they talking about you?" she asked again.
Her question cut through me like a blade.
I wanted to deny it. Pretend she had picked up the wrong stranger. But the weight in my chest was too heavy, the truth too bitter. Tears spilled before I could stop them. My voice broke into pieces.
"I didn't run. " I whispered. "I swear I didn't."
She turned the volume down slightly, but I grabbed the dial with shaking fingers and turned it back up. I had to hear. Even if it killed me.
Another voice came on. One I knew too well. A woman. Smooth. Sharp. Familiar.
It was my mother.
"She disgraced us." she said, her words clipped, sharp, cold. "She's no daughter of mine. She ran away with money that didn't belong to her, and she left her groom at the altar. I always knew she was hiding something. She shamed this family before the entire city. She embarrassed us- this family. And if she thinks she can come back— after stealing from us— she is no daughter of mine."
The air rushed out of my lungs. I clawed at my chest like I could tear the words off me. My mother. My own mother. Her voice was cold, unshaken.
The words pierced deeper than the ropes had, deeper than the storm.
"No…" I whispered shaking my head. "No, Mama, I didn't— I didn't run."
But she couldn't hear me. She'd never hear me.
The reporter chimed in: "And in a surprising turn, her younger sister, Elaine Alcott, has stepped in. Witnesses say she took Tracy's place at the altar, marrying the groom in her place in what some describe as an 'act of selflessness, courage and family honor.'"
I froze. My heart stopped.
Elaine.
My sister. My only sister.
My vision blurred, tears spilling hot and fast. My chest heaved, but no sound came out. Not even a scream. Not even a sob. Just silence.
She replaced me. She took my place without hesitation. She wore the veil. She took my place and smiled under the veil meant for me. She married him.
And the city would clap for her, cheer for her, believe her.
My chest heaved, but I couldn't breathe.
The voice on the radio droned on about scandal, betrayal, rumors of gambling debts and reckless spending—all lies, all poison. But I barely heard it. My ears rang with only one truth: my family had already buried me.
The radio voice kept going, adding insult to injury: "Though Tracy Alcott is the heiress to the Alcott fortune, she has always been a mystery. She has rarely been seen in public, and until today, very few even knew her face. Without public recognition, her story is easy to blur. Rumors are now spreading that she may have been planning her escape for months."
That was when the truth hit me like a hammer.
No one knew me. Not really.
Not my face. Not my voice. Not my truth.
I had been hidden away all my life, tucked behind gates and security, protected from the public eye. A nameless, faceless "heiress." And now… now that same invisibility had become my curse.
No one would believe me. No one would care what I said. The world already had its story.
And worse— the world had already chosen its replacement.
Tears blurred my vision, spilling hot and fast down my cheeks.
"They think I ran…" My voice broke, trembling. "They think I stole… they think— And now they've… replaced me." I couldn't finish. My throat closed, choking on words that didn't matter anymore.
I couldn't stop seeing it. My father lowering his head, ashamed. My mother spitting my name like it was dirt. My sister smiling beneath a veil that should have been mine.
And him— my groom— standing there, letting it all happen.
Did he fight for me? Did he believe me? Or was he holding Elaine's hand, grateful she had "saved" him from scandal?
The thought was too much. My body shook, every part of me trembling as if my bones couldn't hold me anymore.
I pressed my palms against my ears, but the words were already inside. I couldn't shut them out.
"Stop it " I whispered. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!"
The tears came harder, so hard I couldn't breathe. My chest ached like my ribs might split open. I curled in on myself, burying my face in my hands.
For hours— since the hood, since the ropes, since the storm— I'd clung to one fragile hope: When I go home, they'll see. They'll believe me.
But now— now home was gone.
Home had chosen someone else.
The betrayal was worse than the storm, worse than the ropes, worse than the night in the mud. This was a different kind of drowning. One no one could pull me from.
Mrs. Callahan turned the radio off. Silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating.
She looked at me again, not with suspicion this time, but with something softer. Her voice dropped low.
"You're saying this isn't true? That they've lied about you?"
I nodded, choking on sobs. My throat ached as I forced the words out: "They think I ran… but I didn't. I was taken. And now they've—" My voice cracked. "They've replaced me."
Something shifted in her face. The hardness faded. She reached across the seat and touched my arm, gently, like she might touch a wound.
"Oh, child…" she murmured. "I can see it in your eyes. You've been through hell."
That was it. The dam broke. I wept harder, every sob tearing something loose inside me. I wept for my mother's betrayal, for Elaine's smile at the altar, for the fact that no one knew my face well enough to doubt the lies.
I was the heiress. But I was invisible.
For the first time, I realized— I hadn't just been abandoned.
I'd been replaced.
And that was the kind of wound no storm could wash away. And now, I was erased.
Mrs. Callahan's hand lingered on my arm, steady and warm. "You don't have to explain everything tonight," she said softly. "But know this— I believe you."
Her grip tightened, steady. "You have me. " she whispered. "For now, you have me."
Her words didn't heal the wound. But they kept me from falling apart completely.
For the first time since the ropes, since the storm, since the betrayal— I didn't feel entirely alone.
I collapsed into sobs, loud and unrestrained. The storm outside raged on, but nothing could drown the storm inside me.