We were the four girls the Sterling family took in. My foster mother, Mrs. Sterling, had one goal: to groom the most exceptional of us to marry her son, Damian Sterling. The other three—Lily, Sarah, and Maya—they learned flower arranging, dance, and how to charm Damian. Me? I learned finance, management, and how to bleed his family’s company dry. Damian cornered me against a wall, a smirk playing on his lips, smug and sure of himself. “Playing your little seduction games? I despise ambitious women.” He thought I wanted him. He had no idea I’d seen too many women who latched onto men, only to end up as discarded, fading roses. What I wanted was never his love. It was the power to utterly break free from his grasp. Later, he truly fell for me: “You win. I only want you. Stop working so hard, just be my Mrs. Sterling.” I laughed, slapping my resignation letter onto his chest. “Mr. Sterling, you think I was after the title of your wife?” “No. I was after *your* position.” Mrs. Sterling summoned the four of us to the main residence for afternoon tea, claiming she had an important announcement. In the enormous living room, the crystal chandelier sparkled, and the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of expensive diffusers. Lily, Sarah, Maya, and I sat side-by-side on the plush velvet sofa, like a line of products waiting to be appraised. Our postures were trained through countless repetitions: backs perfectly straight, smiles flawlessly calibrated. Mrs. Sterling’s well-maintained face wore a gentle smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Children, you’ve all been with the Sterling family for over a decade now. Each of you has grown into such beautiful young women; I’m truly delighted.” Her gaze swept slowly across our faces, as if she were inspecting her prized collection. “Damian is of marrying age now, and I’ve watched all of you grow up, so I know you well.” “I’ve decided that one of you four will be chosen to be his wife.” The moment her words fell, the breathing of the three girls beside me quickened. Lily was the least able to hide her feelings; her cheeks instantly flushed crimson, her eyes practically overflowing with anticipation, hands clutching tightly at the hem of her skirt. Sarah bowed her head, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress, appearing calm but with knuckles turning white. Maya, however, subtly straightened her back, striking her most poised and impeccable pose. As if the title of Mrs. Sterling was already hers for the taking. They all wanted to be Mrs. Sterling. Only I remained, picking up my coffee cup, gently blowing away the wisps of steam. The dark surface reflected my utterly calm face. I just wanted to escape this gilded cage.
After dinner, we returned to the rooms specifically prepared for us. The moment we stepped inside, the stifling tension in the room finally burst. Lily was the first to break the silence, her face alight with giddy excitement, twirling around in place. “I’m going to marry Damian! Did you hear that? Mrs. Sterling herself said so!” Sarah was mixing colors at her easel, but at Lily’s words, she calmly poured cold water on her enthusiasm. “All four of us want to marry him. But the Sterlings will only choose the most outstanding.” Lily huffed indignantly, puffing out her chest, and marched over to Sarah. “Damian has feelings for me! He treats me the most specially!” She pulled a small silver whistle from around her neck, dangling it before us like a precious treasure. “Last year, for my birthday, Damian took me to the stables, and this was his gift. He said he polished this whistle himself, that it’s one-of-a-kind.” Her voice was full of sweet memories. “He also said that if I ever blow it, no matter where he is, he’ll come to me instantly. He even said my smile was like the first flower to bloom in spring.” We all stared at the whistle, glinting with a cheap, deceptive gleam under the lamp. Damian had said similar things to every one of us. Those sweet nothings were nothing but his easy manipulation, a low-cost, high-reward hunting tool. Just last month, he’d told Sarah her paintings held the vastness of stars and oceans, a lonely genius no one else could comprehend. Then he’d turned around and told Maya her coffee had a calming, almost magical quality that perfectly mirrored her serene nature. But Lily believed him. She clung to that whistle as proof of her unique status, convinced she was the most special person in Damian’s heart. Maya scoffed, said nothing, and turned to enter the bathroom, her retreating back radiating disdain. I looked at Lily’s face, utterly lost in her fantasies, and couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. Some people just have to learn the hard way. There’s no talking sense into them until they get burned.
Damian’s official fiancée, Veronica Shaw, had suddenly returned from overseas. She was the sole heir to the formidable Shaw Corporation, a family as influential as the Sterlings. Their marriage had been an unspoken pact between their grandfathers for decades. Mrs. Sterling instructed us to pick her up at the airport, giving the reason that we should “familiarize ourselves with our future sister-in-law.” Truth be told, she just wanted us to be her foils. To make her see how many women Damian had wrapped around his finger, hoping to ignite some jealousy. Veronica arrived in a custom-tailored designer suit, her makeup flawless. Her eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, swept over us like she was assessing a few eager pets wagging their tails. Her gaze finally settled on Lily. Lily had purposely worn the limited-edition dress Damian had gifted her, and her makeup was meticulously applied. Her obvious eagerness, her desire to impress Damian, was an open book to Veronica. At the evening reception, Veronica glided towards Lily, glass in hand, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Lily, dear, isn’t it? Damian told me you’re quite good at riding. I’ve just returned and feel like a bit of a challenge. How about we head to the stables for a little friendly competition tomorrow?” Lily was thrilled. Damian had never openly praised her like that before, not in front of others. She accepted without a second thought, believing this was Damian’s acknowledgment of her. The next day, almost all the city’s elite received invitations to what was framed as a ‘friendly match’ but was clearly a calculated public display of power. Veronica personally chose the wildest, most unpredictable horse for Lily, claiming it was a handsome steed, perfectly suited for her. Lily was a little scared, but desperate to impress Damian, she forced herself onto the horse. The race began, and Veronica’s horse took an early lead. Lily galloped close behind. Then, on a sharp bend, Lily’s horse suddenly spooked, rearing its front hooves with a piercing whinny, violently throwing her to the ground. Everyone gasped in shock. Damian was the first to rush forward, but not towards Lily. Instead, he hurried to Veronica, who had inexplicably slipped from her own horse and merely twisted her ankle. He held Veronica close, his face etched with tenderness, anxiously examining her ankle, as if his beloved treasure had shattered. Meanwhile, Lily lay on the ground not far away, her lower leg bent at a sickening, unnatural angle. Her face was deathly pale from the pain, cold sweat beading on her forehead, yet no one spared her a glance. She watched Damian and Veronica in their intimate embrace, and the light in her eyes slowly, agonizingly, faded to nothing.
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