“Stay out of trouble and live a good life,” the prison guard advised as he opened the gate. Meryl Stone nodded absently. She had never imagined she would make it out alive after those three torturous years. She limped along the wall, each step slow and painful. The feet that once danced ballet now felt like they were walking on knives. Rain drizzled from the gray sky as she stepped into freedom. The biting wind made her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. A sleek Porsche Cayenne pulled up beside her. The sight of the license plate made her blood run cold. The window rolled down, revealing a man’s stern, emotionless face. “Why are you limping?” Dalton Aniston’s eyes flicked to her legs, his voice icy. Meryl’s eyes stung with unshed tears. This was the man she had loved for seven years, her fiancé, the same man who had ensured she was sent to prison. Was this supposed to be concern? From her very first day in prison, she had been beaten by the other inmates. They said Dalton had paid them to make her suffer. But he hadn’t always been like this. She remembered being fourteen, new to the city from a small town. Her father, Malcolm Stone, had enrolled her in an elite school, a fresh start that quickly turned sour due to Lydia Stone’s manipulations. One day, during a brutal snowstorm, Meryl had been locked in an outdoor bathroom stall, freezing and terrified. She screamed for help until her voice gave out, but no one came. Then, Dalton had kicked the door open. The memory was still vivid, like the icy air, him standing there with snow swirling around. His unbuttoned uniform billowed in the wind, wet hair clinging to his forehead. In the dim light, she couldn’t see his expression, but she remembered him taking off his scarf and tossing it to her. “Here, take this,” he had said, turning away without looking back. To fourteen-year-old Meryl, seventeen-year-old Dalton was a hero, her first beacon of hope. From that moment, she had loved him deeply, following him for seven years. But in the end, all she got was a life worse than death. ***** “Get in,” Dalton commanded, his arm resting casually on the window frame. His custom suit highlighted his tall, imposing frame, and he radiated a cold, aristocratic detachment. Meryl recognized the impatience in his voice, reminiscent of her parents. At fourteen, she was brought back to the Stone family, where her parents initially felt guilty and wanted to make up for lost time. But under the manipulative influence of Lydia, whom they had raised for fourteen years, they gradually distanced themselves from her. When Meryl was twenty-one, Lydia falsely accused her, triggering an explosion of pent-up resentment from the Stone family. “Sure, Lydia isn’t our blood, but what’s her fault? She’s been with us for years. We brought you back. What more do you want?” “Meryl, how could you do this to Lydia? It’s obvious you weren’t raised with us. You’re nothing like her.” Everyone accused her of kidnapping Lydia and plotting against her. They never gave her a chance to explain, sentencing her to prison without a second thought. They never believed her, not once. Dalton’s eyes stayed on Meryl. Seeing her still frozen in place, he snapped, “Get in the car!” His eyes drifted to her legs, spotting a gruesome scar wrapped around her ankle. It looked like it had been slashed with a sharp object, an ugly reminder of her suffering. He turned away and called, “Elias.” His assistant, Elias Sterling, got out of the driver’s seat and approached her. “Ms. Stone, Mr. Aniston wants you to get in the car.” When Meryl still didn’t move, Elias reached out to pull her. Instinctively, she crouched down, covering her head, her voice breaking. “No, please don’t hit me…” Elias was stunned by her reaction, his face showing his shock. She had changed so much that he barely recognized her at first. She used to be so vibrant and full of life, known for her beauty. Now, the light in her eyes was gone, replaced by fear and dread. Three years in prison had turned her into a shadow of her former self. Elias instinctively glanced back at Dalton, but his face remained as calm and indifferent as ever. “Meryl, how much longer do you plan on making me wait? Three years in prison, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?” Meryl slowly got up and slid into the car, carefully keeping her distance from him. The heater was on, but she huddled in a corner, still shivering from the rain and cold. Her head felt foggy, and despite trying to hold it in, she sneezed. The car hit a speed bump, causing Meryl to lurch forward and fall to her knees on the floor. Dalton, who had been resting with his eyes closed, snapped them open at the sound. He glanced at her, his voice dripping with disdain. “Meryl, you really are a mess.” She took a deep breath, his words making her feel even smaller. The car mat felt scorching under her, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up later,” she whispered. Dalton cut her off sharply, “No need. Everything will be thrown away.” A bitter thought crossed Meryl’s mind. “Is it because I touched it?” Her lips trembled, a hint of bitterness creeping onto her face. She turned to look out the window, her eyes growing red. In Dalton’s eyes, everything she touched was dirty and had to be discarded. “In your eyes, only Lydia is clean, isn’t she?” Dalton’s face hardened, a rare flicker of anger in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk about her. This is your last warning. If you ever harm Lydia again… If prison didn’t teach you, I’ll make sure you learn another way!”
Meryl’s face drained of color, her eyes losing their light. The hellish three years she had endured should have taught her something. She took a deep breath, struggling to control the whirlwind of emotions inside her, her fingers clenching into fists. As the car passed under a bridge, the shifting light cast shadows on Dalton’s face, highlighting his unchanged coldness and detachment. Swallowing her bitterness, Meryl asked, “Dalton… was it really you who paid those people in prison?” In prison, she had broken down multiple times, even contemplating death. But she couldn’t let go of Dalton. She feared he wouldn’t manage well without her care. She couldn’t believe he could be so cruel to her. Dalton’s response was chillingly calm. “What kind of answer are you looking for?” Meryl froze for a moment, then a wry smile twisted her lips. Was this his way of confirming it? In his eyes, she was jealous of Lydia and had arranged for her kidnapping, leading to Lydia nearly being molested. The evidence had been overwhelming, leaving Meryl without any defense. Lydia had been ruthless enough to gamble her own reputation, and she had won. Meryl suddenly felt that her seven years of love were utterly laughable. Her gaze grew empty as the car pulled up to what had once been her and Dalton’s future home. Every detail of the house had been painstakingly overseen by Meryl, from the major renovations down to the placement of flower pots. She had even been hands-on with tasks like painting. She had spent countless days and nights dreaming of a life there with Dalton. But now, the house was filled with Lydia’s belongings. Meryl’s heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. Her lips turned pale from how hard she was biting them, her heart frozen solid. Dalton seemed oblivious to her distress. To the maid who came out to greet them, he said, “She’s filthy. Take her to clean up first.” The maid nodded and led Meryl to the bathroom. Once inside, the maid covered her nose, clearly at a loss. Finally, unable to hold back, the maid said with disdain, “Miss, how long has it been since you last bathed? As a young woman, you should really take better care of yourself.” At twenty-four, Meryl wished nothing more than to feel clean and refreshed again. She didn’t say a word. After dismissing the maid, she locked herself in the bathroom and scrubbed at her skin for a solid hour. The wounds from her prison days still plagued her. During her three years in prison, she had been subjected to relentless cruelty. Though the last month had brought some respite, her old injuries had not healed. Many were hidden from view, ranging from bruises and scratches to long, jagged scars. The prison had offered no proper care, and untreated injuries had festered. The most painful was a deep scar on her left foot, which throbbed with each rainstorm, reminding her of its existence. Whenever the pain became too much to bear, Meryl would console herself, believing that the agony would eventually fade. When she emerged, she slipped into the fresh clothes provided by the maid, which fit her surprisingly well. However, as soon as she opened the bathroom door, she walked straight into Dalton. She stumbled, nearly falling backward. Instinctively, Dalton’s hand shot out to steady her, wrapping around her waist. The embrace was jarring for both of them. Meryl’s heart raced as she found herself pressed against his chest, the heavy scent of nicotine wafting from him. Quickly regaining her composure, she pulled away, creating some distance. She tried to sound composed as she said, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…” Meryl caught sight of the cigarette in Dalton’s hand and figured he must have been heading out for a smoke when their paths crossed. “What did you call me?” Dalton’s eyes narrowed sharply. “What’s your game this time, Meryl?” She bit her lip, her eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold back. It seemed that in his eyes, no matter what she did, it was always wrong. Dalton’s expression darkened as he put the cigarette back in his mouth. He didn’t want to admit that her sudden departure from his embrace had left him feeling unexpectedly hollow. Especially now, seeing her tearful eyes stirred a primal impulse within him, a desire to lash out. He lit the cigarette with a flicker of impatience, his throat tightening as he suppressed the desire inside. “So, after three years, you’ve only gotten better at seducing men?” A sardonic smile played at his lips. “Can’t wait, huh?”
Meryl struggled to catch her breath, her fingers gripping the edges of her sleeves as if they might anchor her to sanity. Why did he have to not only reject her but also humiliate her? After a moment, she steadied herself, looked up at Dalton, and forced a smile. “Dalton, just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean you can belittle me.” Dalton was momentarily taken aback by her smile, a rare sight these days. He found himself staring at her longer than intended, but by the time he processed it, Meryl had already averted her gaze. He loosened his tie and stubbed out his cigarette, acknowledging that Meryl had changed. Though he wouldn’t admit it, she wasn’t the same woman who used to light up a room with her smile. It was as if her spirit had withered away. It didn’t affect him directly, but it stirred an unsettling discomfort within him. Dalton couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him. Shaking off the confusion, he reminded her, “Today is Lydia’s birthday. I’ll be taking you back to the Stone Villa later, but remember to behave. Don’t cause trouble. Lydia is nothing like you.” Meryl’s heart sank at his words. To Dalton, Lydia was a cherished prize, while she was deemed unworthy even as a mere accessory. ***** An hour later, Meryl was ushered into a car by Elias. At the Stone Villa, the grand hall was filled with guests. Even though Lydia wasn’t Malcolm’s biological daughter, her birthdays were always celebrated with great fanfare. It was a show of the Stone family’s status and their support for her, subtly reinforcing her position. Everyone of importance in Kingsdom had been invited. The hall was abuzz with wealthy women discussing the latest high-society gossip. “Why is Lydia so favored when she isn’t even Mr. Stone’s biological daughter? Is there something we don’t know?” someone wondered aloud. “She has the skills and talent. In our circle, that’s what really matters. Bloodlines are secondary to the benefits you bring.” Another socialite nodded in agreement. “I heard Lydia has already closed several major deals within six months of joining the company. Mr. Stone was so impressed that he promoted her to vice president, clearly grooming her as a successor.” “But she’s still an outsider. Isn’t that like giving the company away? What about her real parents? Why isn’t she with them?” “No one knows where her biological parents are,” came the response from someone in the know. “It’s odd because Camille Foster, who adopted Meryl, was supposed to be Lydia’s mother, but their paternity test proved otherwise.” Meryl clenched her fists as she overheard this. She still couldn’t understand why Lydia and Camille weren’t biologically related. She had assumed that Camille swapped them to give Lydia a better life, but it turned out Lydia wasn’t even her child. No one knew the exact details, but the result was clear. Meryl was returned to the Stone family, while Lydia’s origins remained a mystery. Lydia had been with the Stone family for over twenty years, and the Stone couple treated her as well, if not better, than their own child. As a few socialites chatted among themselves, their eyes subtly drifted toward Meryl. Noticing their gaze, Meryl lowered her head and quickly exited the hall. Just after she left, one of the women who had been talking turned to the others and said, “Didn’t that woman who just walked by look a bit like Meryl?” The others followed her gaze. “Meryl? No way. She was known for her striking beauty and figure. The woman who just passed by looked like a skeleton. Are you kidding?” In the past, Meryl was the kind of person who stood out even in a crowd of beauties. Now, however, she was almost unrecognizable… Unaware that she had become the topic of conversation, Meryl reached the second floor and was about to push open her room’s door when she overheard voices that made her freeze. “Dalton, I heard Meryl’s out of prison. Is that true?” “Meryl? The one who used to be glued to Dalton? When did she end up in prison? What on earth did she do?” The Stone family had worked hard to keep the scandal under wraps. The official story was that Meryl had been studying abroad, thanks to Malcolm’s efforts to cover up the truth. Dalton shot a frosty glance at Billy Preston, who immediately realized his mistake. He slapped his forehead and tried to smooth things over. “Oops, I got that wrong. Meryl was abroad, not in prison.” A wealthy young man who had been listening took a drag from his cigarette and commented, “Billy, you’re really losing it.” Billy chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on. Everyone makes mistakes.” The young man shifted the conversation back. “With Meryl back, things must be heating up around Dalton, right? If I remember correctly, you two were engaged three years ago. Dalton, any plans for a wedding?” Meryl hesitated, her hand frozen on the door handle. Inside, the sounds of a card game were audible. Billy smiled jokingly, “Engaged? Come on. Marriage is just a way to keep someone under control. Dalton isn’t the type to be tied down by something like that.”
The other man laughed. “But Meryl is quite the looker, isn’t she? With that face and figure, she’d turn heads anywhere. Keeping her around as a trophy wife wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” He glanced at Dalton, tossing a card onto the table. “Dalton, are you really okay with letting someone else have her?” Dalton finally spoke, his tone flat and uninterested. “You want her? Then take her.” The man was taken aback, unsure if Dalton was serious or just messing with him, and chuckled awkwardly. “Everyone knows Meryl’s been devoted to you. She’s followed you around all these years. I guess I’m not that lucky.” Outside the door, Meryl was taken aback, her face twisting into a bitter smile. It was well known that she loved Dalton, but hearing him casually offer her up like a prize was a painful blow. The sting of humiliation made her eyes well up. She clenched her fists tightly, feeling overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of betrayal. This was the man she had loved for ten years, and this was how he treated her. Fighting back tears, she moved to the window, pulled out a long-forgotten number, and dialed it. As the phone rang, someone called out to her from behind. “Meryl? You’re back?” Glancing at her phone, she ended the call and turned to see who was calling. Her mother, Bianca Stone, looking surprised to see her, approached with a skeptical expression. “When did you get out?” How absurd. Bianca had remembered Lydia’s birthday but had forgotten Meryl’s release. “You’ve lost so much weight,” she said, frowning as she assessed Meryl. “A little hardship can be good for you. It teaches you lessons. Your father and I won’t hold the past against you. Today’s both your and your sister’s birthday. Change into a dress quickly.” Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Oh, right. Since you’ve been gone for three years, your room has been repurposed into a game room. Go ahead and change in your sister’s room for now. I’ll have someone bring the clothes to you.” Meryl was pushed into Lydia’s room. The moment she stepped inside, the strong perfume made her stomach churn. She rushed to the bathroom, struggling to keep from gagging. Just then, the sound of footsteps outside the door signaled the arrival of the maid with the dress. Meryl leaned over the sink, her eyes red from vomiting. Once the nausea subsided, she washed her face and went back to the room. The maid was waiting inside, eyeing Meryl up and down as she emerged. “I’m not pregnant,” Meryl preempted her, knowing what the maid was thinking. She had been so sick that her eyes were still bloodshot, making her look extremely weak. “Tell Lydia not to make a fuss about this.” The maid gave a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t thinking that. Just get dressed and come downstairs quickly. Mrs. Stone is waiting for you.” Meryl was aware that the birthday party was for Lydia, and she was merely an afterthought. Not wanting to feign sisterly affection with Lydia while feeling nauseous, she went to the kitchen to get some food. She had barely eaten a few bites when someone knocked on the door. It was still the same maid. “Mrs. Stone needs to see you. Miss, please come downstairs!” Meryl took her time finishing her last bite before looking up. “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go downstairs.” The maid was taken aback, clearly not expecting Meryl to refuse. “Madam said it’s not appropriate for you to miss today’s event. It would look bad if you and Ms. Lydia Stone aren’t seen together.” “When have Lydia and I ever been on good terms?” The maid was momentarily speechless, but fortunately, Meryl had already risen and was heading out. In the grand hall, Lydia, dressed to the nines, was surrounded by a group of wealthy young ladies. She held a glass of white wine, about to take a sip when a sudden, startling voice interrupted. “Ms. Lydia Stone, don’t drink that wine! It’s been tampered with!”
“What?” Lydia looked up, startled. “What are you talking about?” The maid shot a glance at Meryl. “I saw Ms. Stone go into the kitchen and put something into your drink. It looked like some kind of drug.” Several faces turned pale as the maid’s words sank in. Everyone in the Stone family remembered the kidnapping incident three years ago. Lydia had been abducted after drinking a spiked beverage. Hearing that it might be happening again made Lydia’s face go white, and her hand trembled, causing her wine glass to shatter on the floor. The crash of the glass drew attention from the crowd, who now looked over curiously. Lydia, with red-rimmed eyes, turned to Bianca. “Mom… “I’m so scared…” Bianca, realizing what Lydia feared, quickly comforted her. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all in the past.” Then, she turned her gaze towards Meryl, her expression hardened. “Still up to your old tricks?” Though Bianca didn’t directly accuse Meryl in front of everyone, Meryl knew exactly what she meant. It seemed Lydia was trying to use this situation to frame her again. Meryl, who had been holding back laughter at the absurdity, spoke up. “It wasn’t me.” She glanced at the drink in the decanter. Lydia had a special preference for white wine, which had been prepared just for her. It was clear Lydia had anticipated this. “I did go to the kitchen, but I was just looking for something to eat, not to tamper with her drink.” The maid persisted, “But I saw you add something to it. I swear I didn’t lie!” The maid’s certainty was almost theatrical, like a crusader standing up to a powerful foe. Around them, murmurs and whispers began to circulate among the guests. Bianca was anxious to keep the matter contained, knowing that family issues should be handled privately. Publicizing them would only bring embarrassment. Lydia, sensing her mother’s unease, gave her a reassuring smile. “Mom, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. “Meryl has spent three years in prison. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I trust she is innocent.” Her words caused a stir as the guests had been led to believe that Meryl was studying abroad. In their high-society circles, the mention of prison was a serious blemish, a mark that could affect one’s reputation and even that of their family for generations. The room buzzed with whispers. Lydia seemed to realize she had misspoken and quickly tried to cover up, her face a mask of guilt. “I was just drunk and rambling. Don’t take it seriously. How could my sister ever have been to prison?” But her attempt to backtrack only seemed to confirm the suspicion. Her evident discomfort made it clear to everyone that there was some truth to the claim. Trying to salvage the situation, Lydia said, “Meryl, since you’ve just returned from abroad, have you adjusted to the time difference? Today is our birthday, and I’ve prepared a special gift for you. Would you like to see it?” Meanwhile, the noise from downstairs had reached Dalton, who came down to find Lydia looking fragile and distressed, apologizing to Meryl in a pitiful manner. Her eyes were red, her hands clasped nervously as she carefully watched Meryl’s reaction. Meryl turned to look at her. This was nothing new. Lydia had always had a talent for playing the innocent victim, no matter how many times she tried to frame her. Meryl felt cornered, the stares from the crowd making her feel increasingly exposed. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she was being unjustly accused and manipulated by Lydia. It seemed that for Lydia, three years in prison wasn’t enough. The public revelation of Meryl’s imprisonment was meant to ruin her life. Meryl’s frustration grew. If Lydia wanted to drag her down, maybe it was time to bring everyone down together!
“Yeah, I did time.” Meryl’s eyes swept over the crowd, finally landing on Lydia. Lydia reached out to grab her hand. “Meryl, stop saying that. I just spoke without thinking, okay?” Meryl pulled back, avoiding Lydia’s touch, yanking her hand away forcefully. Unexpectedly, Lydia stepped on the hem of her dress and fell to the ground. The fall was hard, and shards from a broken glass on the floor hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Dalton immediately rushed over, pushing through the crowd to help Lydia up. Her hand was a bloody mess, with shards embedded in her skin. Dalton’s eyes blazed with anger as he glared at Meryl. “Meryl, you never learn! I warned you…” Meryl’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Dalton didn’t care about her, but seeing him protect another woman still hurt. “What did I do? I just pulled my hand away. She fell on her own.” Seeing their hands clasped together, Meryl felt a pang of irony. She lowered her gaze, gently touching a spot on her chest where a pendant hung, a gift from someone long ago. In prison, during countless moments of despair, she had clung to that pendant to get through it. When she looked up again, her eyes were cold. She smiled bitterly and continued, “Yeah, I was in prison, but I was framed.” Bianca’s face turned pale as Meryl admitted her imprisonment. Initially, when Lydia exposed Meryl’s past, Bianca also suspected it was intentional. But watching Lydia apologize and try to cover it up, she believed it was just a slip of the tongue. She had watched Lydia grow up and couldn’t believe she had such malicious intentions. Not wanting things to get out of hand, Bianca tried to smooth things over. “Meryl, you’ve had too much to drink. Let them help you upstairs to sober up.” But Meryl ignored her, her voice steady. “Three years ago, if I had really kidnapped Lydia, I could have made her disappear without a trace. Why would I leave evidence for you to find her?” Suddenly, a sharp slap echoed through the room. Malcolm had emerged from his study, his face stern. “Meryl, stop this nonsense right now!” he commanded. Her cheek stung, but Meryl didn’t flinch. “Lydia only had minor injuries. If those men had really wanted to do something to her, they would have done it when they first took her. Why bother taking her to an abandoned factory? It makes no sense.” The crowd was stunned, eyes widening in disbelief. Whispers spread through the room as people glanced at Lydia, who bit her lip, her face ashen. Malcolm was furious. This incident had been a forbidden topic in the Stone family for years. Now, Meryl was airing their dirty laundry in front of everyone, turning them into a spectacle. His one daughter ended up in prison, and the other was nearly assaulted all because of a bitter feud between sisters. It was the kind of scandal that made for juicy gossip in high society. Tears streamed down Lydia’s face, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed quietly. Meryl let out a cold laugh, thinking, “Can’t handle this, can you?” Compared to her own suffering, this was nothing. Bianca shot Meryl a warning look, urging her to be quiet. Three years ago, they had agreed to send Meryl to prison to teach her a lesson because she had refused to admit her mistake, and they thought she was beyond help. Bianca sometimes wondered if they had been too harsh. After all, Meryl was their daughter. But Lydia had insisted that being a Stone family member would protect her in prison. They believed this might be the only way to set Meryl straight, fearing she would otherwise go down the wrong path. Bianca had reluctantly agreed. Meryl had been raised by Camille, who had also raised a gambling, lazy son. With that kind of upbringing, Meryl needed some serious correction to set her on the right path. “Why bring this up now?” Bianca’s voice was full of frustration. “Can’t you see Lydia is crying?” Meryl’s expression turned mocking. “Right, I went to prison for her, and she’s the one crying.” She bent down, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal an ugly scar on her ankle, causing a collective gasp from the room. “But who cares if I’m hurting?” Meryl’s fingers traced the scar. The damp weather made it ache slightly, but she was used to it. “I’ve always wondered who paid off those inmates to treat me like that. I have dozens of scars. Want to see?” They had claimed it was Dalton, but Meryl didn’t believe it. She wanted to know, in front of everyone, who was truly responsible. The sight of her scar made the daughters of the wealthy families present feel a pang of sympathy. They had been pampered their whole lives and had never suffered like this. “Was it you?” Meryl looked at Malcolm and Bianca, then quickly shifted her gaze to Lydia. “Or you?” Finally, her eyes locked on Dalton.
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