The city lights twinkled like scattered stardust – diamonds brushed across velvet night.
Skyscrapers donned neon halos, billboards pulsing vividly, a light and sound symphony synchronizing with the city's rhythm below.
A view designed to distract from life's ugliness.
A voice interrupted:
"There you are, Ly."
Benjie stood nearby, his face softening the instant our eyes met.
"Something wrong?"
He paused before speaking:
"I've heard what your stepmother did to you, Lysandra."
His concern was genuine, but I swallowed hard, throat constricting. Silence was safer than truth.
"Lysandra," he pressed – just my name, heavy, firm, unrelenting.
I tried to brush it off:
"I'll go, Benj. Thanks for the company."
No response, just a heavy chest filled with emotions I dared not speak aloud.
The night sky seemed to darken, as if reflecting my mood.
I left Benjie standing there, alone with his thoughts, while I headed home – to the Moore estate, where my stepmother awaited like a snake in the grass.
Woken at 4:00 AM dawn.
Ready to leave my room, Caroline's icy gaze locked onto mine – cold, sharp as knives.
"You're awake, then prepare breakfast."
Her command was laced with malice; I shot back:
"I am NOT your maid, Caroline."
Weakness is death if you choose it – my mother's words echoed in my mind.
Breakfast with Ella and her mother was tense:
"Caroline, clean my room later, okay?" Ella commanded, her voice dripping with entitlement.
I intervened:
"That's YOUR room. Learn to clean it yourself – you don't have a servant. I AM NOT YOUR SERVANT."
Ella glared; Caroline's eyes narrowed – a storm was brewing, and I was ready for it.
Nely carried juice to the table – disaster struck. Glass tipped, spilling onto Ella.
Ella's hands rose to strike Nely, but I grabbed her. Ella's hands hovered.
"You useless old woman! You're fired." Ella spat venomously.
I stepped in, coldly:
"Who are you to fire my staff?"
Caroline exclaimed:
"Lysandra, don't side with this old woman – Ella's your sister!"
But she shoved Nely into broken glass anyway.
Blood spilled. I hate blood.
Without hesitation, my palm struck Caroline's face.
"How dare you push Nely!" I shouted.
A loud voice boomed from the living room:
"What happened?!" – my Dad.
Seeing Caroline on floor, he was furious – about to slap me.
I stopped him cold:
"Don't try me, Dad. You know me."
My gaze dared him to cross me.
I faced Caroline and Ella with sharp gaze:
"You're free to live here, but don't hurt or insult my people. Hell awaits you otherwise."
They gulped. Mission accomplished – fear me.
Dad raged:
"Are you threatening them? Learn respect, daughter!"
I shrugged, chuckled:
"You're my father, not my ruler. Know your place."
He stopped scolding, escorted his mistress and daughter out.
I helped Nely up.
Tears fell from Nely's eyes:
"No one will hurt you again, Nely." I promised, hugging her tightly.
Nely raised me after Mom left Moore estate. She knew my heart.
"If not for you, I'd leave this mansion already." she sobbed.
I pulled back, looked into her eyes:
"You'll leave with me someday!"
Nely was surprised, bitterness lingering:
"If we leave, your father will claim everything Moore owns – your grandfather's legacy, your mother's trust fund… everything."
I reassured her:
"Don't worry, I'll settle this. He won't succeed – no matter what."
My phone buzzed – unknown number:
'They're planning to introduce you to his business partners. Hunting you to give them your assets.'
My heart sank. Dad's scheme was bigger than I thought.
"Want my family assets? Dream on." I muttered aloud.
A knock on my door – Dad.
I opened it, raised an eyebrow:
"What do you want?" I asked lazily, already knowing the answer.
Dad shifted uncomfortably:
"Prepare yourself. Casual attire, don't embarrass me in front of tonight's guests."
No apology for earlier – zero conscience. Damn you, Ricky Brooke.
I glared:
"For what occasion… or victim?"
He left without answering. I slammed the door shut.
Night fell. I wore a simple black shirt, white pants, and white high-cut boots – authority in every step.
My hair cascaded down my back like silk, my eyes sharp as emeralds.
Arrived at the dinner scene. Dad stood up; I gave him a 'save it' look.
The table was filled with strangers – except one face that made my blood boil.
Alaeric Grayson. My supposed fiancé.
Dad introduced everyone, but I barely listened.
My gaze locked onto Alaeric's – a warning: stay away.
Dad cleared his throat:
"Everyone, my daughter Lysandra."
They smiled, nodded. I remained silent.
Alaeric's eyes lingered on me – I looked away, dismissing him.
Dad continued:
"Grayson and our company will partner soon… a formal dinner for them considering us."
He trembled – nervous much? This deal must be huge.
I dropped my spoon intentionally – loud echo, dead silence.
All eyes turned to me. I smiled sweetly:
"You wanted me in casual attire tonight because you planned my engagement to their son, right Mr. and Mrs. Grayson?"
Nervous glances exchanged between them and my dad.
I continued, voice firm:
"I'm not 15 – unaware of schemes. Is this your suggestion or your son's plan with my father and stepmother to seize Moore assets?"
Grayson couple surprised, furious – Mr. Grayson barely calm, his face red as a tomato.
Alaeric gulped, avoiding eye contact. Coward.
Mr. Grayson composed himself:
"Interesting accusation, Miss Lysandra. Care to explain?"
I leaned forward, eyes locked on his:
"Grayson's son was crippled, yet fully healed within a week – no hospital records. Who was your miracle doctor, Mr. Grayson?"
Alaeric gulped again, avoiding my gaze. His mother stepped in:
"Our son had… extensive private care, Miss Lysandra."
I smiled slyly:
"Private care that restored him fully in 7 days? Impressive.
And another question, Mr. Grayson – how did your 'fully healed' son and my father conspire without my knowledge… or yours?"
The room fell silent again. Dad's face turned purple with rage and embarrassment.
Mrs. Grayson glared at my father, then me:
"Seems we've been misled, Mr. Brooke. About your daughter's… awareness."
I leaned back, satisfied:
"This dinner is over. I'll let Grayson's couple uncover truth from lies."
Pushed my chair back, stood up, and walked out – leaving stunned silence behind.
My phone buzzed – unknown number again:
'Your beautiful day will soon end! Meet me at old oak tree in Moore gardens tonight. Alone.'
My heart raced. Who was this mysterious messenger?