My dead mother’s necklace showed up as the grand prize at tonight’s street race. Marcus promised he’d win first place and get it back for me. He broke his promise. He deliberately slowed down before the finish line to let Cole Montgomery win, just so he could take second place—and that Valentino gown. Charlotte had been eyeing it for months. Marcus looked at me, helpless but indulgent. “Charlotte’s twenty-first birthday is coming up. She only wants this gown. I promised I’d get it for her.” Charlotte twirled in the Valentino, smug and sweet. “Ophelia, isn’t it bad luck to keep a dead woman’s things?” Marcus tried to smooth things over. “When I propose, I’ll have a custom necklace made for you at Cartier. Better than your mother’s. How about that?” Too late. Because I’d sworn—whoever won back that necklace for me, I’d marry him. Three days from now, I’ll be Cole Montgomery’s wife. …… “Second place—Marcus Ashford. Prize: one Valentino limited-edition gown.” The crowd roared. Engines still rumbling. Tire smoke hung in the night air. I stood behind the crowd, watching someone hand Marcus the Valentino gown. My hands went cold. He’d actually done it. Broken his word. The scene before the race kept replaying in my head. Charlotte had cornered Marcus by his car at the starting line, dressed in a tight crop top and short skirt. Her eyes were wet, pleading. “Marcus, my birthday’s in three days. Could you win me that Valentino?” “Ophelia’s the legitimate heir—she got this huge party for her twenty-first. I’m just the stepdaughter. I can’t compete with her. But I want something beautiful too.” “My mom’s just her father’s mistress. Everyone looks down on us. But if I wear a beautiful gown won by you, people will finally respect me.” “I’m only asking this once. Please, Marcus.” Tears slid down her cheeks, landing on Marcus’s hand as he reached to brush them away. “Don’t cry, Charlotte. I’ll do it.” “But I promised Ophelia I’d win back the necklace. She said it was her mother’s.” Charlotte wiped her eyes fast, smiling. “It’s fine. The other racers all know you. We can buy it back for her.” “I’ll use all my savings to buy it for Ophelia.” She looked so small and careful it made Marcus ache. “Alright. I’ll win you that gown.” I closed my eyes. Hands in fists. I’d heard them talking before the race but couldn’t stop it. I’d held onto hope. Marcus and I grew up together. Our families had a verbal agreement about marriage. Three days from now, the Ashford Family were supposed to come propose. I thought—being his fiancée—he’d do this one thing for me. I was wrong. He threw the race to Cole Montgomery for Charlotte’s gown. “Oh no, Ophelia. Marcus lost. Cole Montgomery got your necklace.” “Wasn’t that your mom’s? What are you going to do? Cole hates Marcus—he’ll never sell it back.” So she knew. She’d suggested buying it back, already knowing Cole would refuse. I looked at her. “Charlotte, does Marcus know how vicious you are?” Her face changed. Before she could speak, Marcus walked up with people carrying the gown. Charlotte threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Marcus.”
The racing girls and other racers swarmed them. “That Valentino is limited edition. Can’t believe Marcus won it for you, Charlotte.” “Marcus is so good to you.” “I heard the Warren and Ashford Family are family friends. They’re arranging a marriage.” “So Marcus is marrying Charlotte? Lucky girl.” Charlotte smugly took the gown and headed to one of the cars to change. Marcus watched her go, indulgent, then turned to me. “Ophelia, I know I let you down. Charlotte said she only wants this gown for her birthday. I had no choice.” “You want the necklace—Cole won’t budge for some reason. But it’s fine. When I come to propose, I’ll have Cartier make you the same one. Better than your mother’s.” I blinked back tears. “I don’t think you’ll get the chance.” Marcus looked regretful, mumbling, not knowing what to do. Charlotte came back in the Valentino, tugging his sleeve and laughing. “Thank you, Marcus. This is the best birthday gift.” Then she tilted her head at me. “Ophelia, why hold onto the past? That necklace is pretty, but isn’t it creepy to keep a dead woman’s things?” “You wouldn’t actually make Marcus order a replica of a dead woman’s necklace for the proposal, would you? Isn’t that bad luck?” Marcus played mediator. “Alright, this is my fault. It’s just a necklace. I’ll get you several more. I’ll bring them when I propose. That should make up for it.” Marcus saw me staying quiet. His patience snapped. “How long are you going to sulk over a dead woman’s jewelry?” “Is your mother’s old necklace more important than Charlotte’s birthday? She’s your sister. Aren’t the living more important?” “You’re acting like a spoiled child. Where’s the grace of a Warren heir? Think about it.” “If you keep being this petty, you’re not fit to be a Marcus’s wife. I’ll have to reconsider this marriage.” After saying that, he opened the car door for Charlotte and drove off, tires screeching down the street. …… Three days later was Charlotte’s twenty-first birthday. Victoria had been planning it for months. After my mother died, Dad’s mistress Victoria moved into Mom’s bedroom. Charlotte was treated just like the legitimate heir. If it weren’t for my Grandfather, Dad would’ve made Victoria his official wife years ago. Charlotte’s birthday party had invited every socialite and heiress in New York. And this was also the day the Ashford Family were supposed to come to discuss the wedding date. Guests filled the house. Someone joked about when they’d get to attend our wedding. Marcus looked at me, uncomfortable, forcing a smile. “There will be a wedding. Just… the timing is a bit complicated.” A family friend spoke up. “Complicated? Wasn’t it supposed to be in one month? Is something wrong?” Marcus lowered his head, looking embarrassed. “Ophelia, we have discussed this. Your grandfather won’t let Victoria become your father’s official wife unless Charlotte marries well.” “Charlotte’s had it rough. I feel for her.” “So… I’ll marry Charlotte first. In one month.” The room went silent. Someone gasped. “Wait, you’re marrying Charlotte? What about Ophelia?” I stared at Marcus. “Is this the Ashford Family’ decision? And my father’s? You marry Charlotte instead?”
Marcus waved his hands quickly. “Charlotte needs me. She can’t survive without support. I have to marry her.” He stepped forward, urgent. “But Ophelia, you can still be with me. You’re the Warren Family’s heir. You’re Abel Sterling’s granddaughter. You don’t need a title to prove your worth.” “Charlotte said she won’t fight you for anything. She knows her place. She just needs the protection of being Mrs. Ashford.” “You’ll have everything you want. My love, my resources, everything. The only difference is Charlotte will have the legal title.” He said it like he was being generous. Like I should be grateful. The guests’ faces were priceless. “Is he suggesting she be his mistress?” “How could Robert Warren agree to this? His daughter becoming the mistress?” “If Abel Sterling finds out, he’ll tear the Ashford Family down.” Marcus’s face went red and white. Charlotte walked up in the Valentino, voice soft. “Ophelia, please forgive me.” “I need Marcus. I can’t make it on my own. But I promise I won’t take anything from you. You’ll always be special to him.” I laughed. “You’ve had it so hard, Charlotte? Victoria moved into my mother’s bedroom three days after she died. She took all of Mom’s jewelry.” “And you claimed my room because you said it had the best natural light. You live in the best suite in the Warren Family.” “Your clothes cost more than mine. You get first pick of jewelry and designer clothes. Where exactly have you suffered?” Everyone looked. Charlotte’s Valentino gown was from the street race—Marcus had won it for her. The worth of that gown spoke for itself. The crown on her head was from Cartier’s vault collection. Worth $500,000. Her shoes were Manolo Blahnik with rare pearls embedded in them. Compared to her,I wore something simple. Hearing this, the guests started whispering. “That outfit costs over a million dollars. Not even the heiresses in this city dress that extravagantly. How dare you say you are unloved?” “Just that crown is worth $500,000.” “That mistress’s wearing designer too. Those two dress better than most of us.” “Ophelia doesn’t even look as expensive as them.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. She stepped back, looking at Marcus. “It’s not like that, Marcus. Today’s my birthday. Dad said I couldn’t lose face in front of everyone. That’s why I’m dressed like this.” “This crown and jewelry—Dad ordered them for Ophelia, not me.” I smiled slightly. “Dad ordered them for me? Pearl, make a note. After the party, go get all this jewelry and the crown from Charlotte’s room and bring it to mine.” My maid Pearl suppressed a smile. “Yes, Miss Warren.” Marcus snapped. “Enough, Ophelia. It’s just a crown. Why are you pushing your sister this far? You’re being petty. Where’s your grace as the Warren Family’s heir?” “I didn’t believe you’d treat Charlotte badly, but now I see it. When I’m not around, you must bully her constantly.” He stepped in front of Charlotte, gripping her hand tight. “She’s going to be Mrs. Ashford. She doesn’t need these things.” “Besides, when Charlotte marries me, your father said he’d transfer her share of the Warren assets—company stocks and cash worth a hundred million dollars. She won’t care about one or two pieces of jewelry.”
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