We were four foster girls, raised by the Albright family. Mrs. Albright had one goal: to train the most exceptional one among us to marry her son, Brandon. The other three girls—Clara, Lena, and Isabella—learned flower arrangement, mastered etiquette, and practiced how to charm Brandon. But me? I studied finance, management, and how to drain Albright Industries from the inside. Brandon found me intriguing, a new kind of game. He cornered me against the wall, a condescending, knowing smirk on his face. “Playing hard to get, trying to make me think highly of you?” “Cut the act. I don’t like ambitious women.” He thought I wanted him. He had no idea I’d seen too many women who relied on men, only to end up as withered roses. What I wanted was never his love. It was the power to finally break free from his grasp. Later, he truly became infatuated with me. The moment he realized I was slipping from his control… He embraced me, his eyes bloodshot. “I admit I’m completely lost. I just want you.” “Don’t work so hard, be my Mrs. Albright.” I smiled, slapping my resignation letter against his chest. “Mr. Albright, you think I was after the title of your wife?” “No, I’m after your position.”
Mrs. Albright summoned the four of us to the main estate for afternoon tea, claiming she had an important announcement. In the vast living room, crystal chandeliers sparkled, and the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of expensive incense. I sat on the plush velvet sofa alongside the other three girls—Clara, Lena, and Isabella—like merchandise waiting to be appraised. Our postures were the result of a thousand rehearsals: spines straight, smiles practiced to perfection. Mrs. Albright’s perfectly maintained face held a warm smile, though it never quite reached her eyes. “Children, you’ve all been with the Albright family for over ten years now. Each of you has grown into such slender and graceful young women. I’m very pleased.” Her gaze swept slowly across our faces, as if inspecting her prized collection. “Brandon is also of marrying age now, and I’ve watched all of you grow up, so I know you well.” “I’ve decided to choose one of you four to be his wife.” The moment her words fell, the three girls beside me gasped, their breathing quickening. Clara was never one to hide her feelings. Her cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes practically overflowing with anticipation, her hands clutching her dress. Lena kept her head down, nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. She seemed calm, but her knuckles were white. Isabella, however, straightened her back subtly, adopting the most poised and flawless demeanor, as if the title of Mrs. Albright was already hers for the taking. They all wanted to be Mrs. Albright. Only I picked up the bone china teacup in front of me and gently blew on the rising steam. The tea reflected my utterly calm face. I just wanted to leave this golden cage.
After dinner, we returned to the separate guesthouse prepared specifically for us. The moment we stepped inside, the suppressed tension exploded. Clara was the first to break the silence, spinning in a circle, her face alight with the blush of a girl in love. “I’m going to marry Brandon! Did you hear that? Mrs. Albright said it herself!” Lena, mixing paints at her easel, merely poured cold water on Clara’s excitement. “We all want to marry him, don’t we? But the Albrights will only choose the best one.” Clara puffed out her chest defiantly and ran over to Lena. “Brandon has feelings for me! He’s the most special to me!” She pulled a small silver whistle from her neck, showing it off like a treasured possession. “Last year, for my birthday, Brandon took me to the stables. This was his gift to me. He said he crafted it himself, and it’s one of a kind.” Her voice was full of sweet memories. “He also said that if I ever blew the whistle, no matter where he was, he’d come to me immediately. He even said my smile was like the first rose of spring.” We all looked at the whistle, which shimmered with a cheap, false gleam under the light. Brandon had said similar things to every one of us girls. Those sweet nothings were just cheap tools for his game, plucked from thin air without a second thought—low effort, high return. Just last month, he’d told Lena that her paintings held stars like the sea, a unique artistic soul no one could truly grasp. Then he’d turned around and told Isabella that her tea had a calming magic, an extension of her serene nature. But Clara believed him. She saw the whistle as irrefutable proof, convinced she was the one special person in Brandon’s heart. Isabella scoffed, turning to disappear into the bathroom, her back radiating disdain. I looked at Clara’s face, steeped in fantasy, and didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Some people just have to hit rock bottom before they see the truth. No words would have changed her mind.
Brandon’s official fiancée, Victoria Sterling, suddenly returned from abroad. She was the sole heiress of Sterling Corporation, a family of comparable wealth to the Albrights. This marriage had been arranged by their grandfathers long ago. Mrs. Albright had us pick her up from the airport, under the pretense of bonding with our future sister-in-law. In plain terms, it was to make us her background dancers, to show her how many women orbited Brandon, hoping to spark a sense of urgency in her. Victoria wore a high-fashion designer suit, her makeup flawless. Her eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, swept over us, as if looking at a few pathetic pets begging for her attention. Her gaze finally settled on Clara. Clara had specifically worn the limited-edition dress Brandon had given her that day, and her delicate, flirty makeup did nothing to hide that little flutter of excitement; it was completely transparent to Victoria. At the evening gala, Victoria, holding a wine glass, moved with casual elegance towards Clara, a smile playing on her lips. “Clara, right? Brandon mentioned you’re quite the equestrian. I just got back and I’m itching to ride. How about we go to the stables tomorrow for a friendly competition?” Clara was thrilled by the unexpected recognition; Brandon had never praised her like this in front of others. She accepted without a second thought, believing it was Brandon’s approval. The next day, nearly all the city’s elites received invitations to witness this ‘friendly competition’ that was clearly a public display of dominance. Victoria personally picked the most spirited chestnut mare for Clara, claiming it was noble and suited her. Clara was scared, but to impress Brandon, she gritted her teeth and mounted the horse. The race began, with Victoria’s horse taking an immediate lead. Clara chased closely behind. At a bend, Clara’s horse suddenly spooked, rearing on its hind legs with a neigh, throwing her violently to the ground. Everyone gasped in alarm. Brandon was the first to rush forward, but not towards Clara. Instead, he caught Victoria, who had somehow also slipped from her horse and merely twisted her ankle. He held Victoria, his face etched with heartache, anxiously checking her ankle, as if his cherished treasure had shattered. Meanwhile, Clara lay not far off, her lower leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was chalk-white with pain, cold sweat beaded on her forehead, yet no one seemed to notice her. She watched Brandon and Victoria, intimately intertwined, and the light in her eyes extinguished, bit by bit.
Clara was sent back to her real home, a remote town. The Albright family paid her parents a substantial sum, on the condition that they never return to the city, and never speak of their connection to the Albright name. It was a ‘dignified’ expulsion, and a gag order. When I was permitted to visit her in the hospital to say goodbye, she lay in bed, her leg encased in a thick cast, like a flower utterly ravaged by a storm. She handed me the silver whistle, her palm cold. “It was all a lie…” She rasped, her eyes holding a dead, ashen calm. “Victoria hid needles under my saddle. The stablehand who prepped my horse worked for her. She deliberately spooked the horse, then faked her own fall in front of Brandon, all to humiliate me and make him completely despise me.” “Brandon knew everything. He even… silently approved.” “He thought I was an eyesore, so he played along with Victoria, putting on this show to toss me aside like garbage.” Clara grabbed my hand, her frail fingers trembling with the force. “Scarlett, you’re so smart, you have to be careful.” “Don’t trust Brandon. Don’t trust anyone here. Survive, and then… destroy them.” I clutched the whistle in my hand, the cold metal digging into my palm, a sharp sting. “Okay,” I nodded.
After Clara left, the annex grew much quieter, and heavier with a suffocating silence. Lena became even more withdrawn, spending her days locked in the art studio, her canvases filled with dark, somber tones. She had a secret, one we all knew. She was secretly dating a struggling art student named Leo Hayes, a world she carefully guarded as her own. But that secret was soon uncovered by Victoria. That day was the annual Albright family charity gala. Lena’s painting, “Starry Night,” was chosen as the centerpiece auction item. The bidding started at a hundred thousand dollars, and a mystery buyer eventually snatched it for a staggering three million. Everyone assumed the Albrights were just building Lena’s reputation. Brandon even publicly put his arm around her, declaring her the family’s pride. Mrs. Albright was also very pleased, praising Lena in front of everyone, hinting she was one step closer to becoming Mrs. Albright. Lena, however, went pale. She spent the entire evening fidgeting, unable to relax. After the gala, the man who bought the painting found Lena at the end of the hallway. It was her boyfriend, Leo Hayes. He wore a cheap, ill-fitting suit, his hair meticulously plastered down with gel, which only made him look more out of place and nervous. He excitedly grabbed Lena’s hand. “Lena, I did it! I sold my family’s house, borrowed money from every relative and friend, and scraped together three million. I wanted to prove to the Albrights that I can make you happy!” Lena stared at him, tears streaming down her face, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word. Just then, Victoria arrived with a group of reporters she’d hidden in ambush. Flashbulbs flashed wildly, capturing the two of them in their distressed state. “Well, well, isn’t this our future Mrs. Albright? Getting cozy with a penniless artist?” Victoria’s tone was laced with poisoned mockery. “I hear he blew his entire family fortune just to buy your painting? Truly heartwarming. Brandon, you certainly have a way with your foster sisters, don’t you?” Behind her, Brandon’s face was thunderous. The next day, the news exploded everywhere. “Albright Foster Daughter Caught with Penniless Artist, Elite Dreams Shattered.” “Madly in Love or Calculated Scheme? Art Prodigy Accused of Social Climbing and Shameless Stunt.” Leo was expelled from the academy for “conduct unbecoming and bringing disrepute,” and all his gallery contracts were terminated. His life was ruined overnight.
Lena locked herself in her room, refusing to eat or drink. A few days later, Mrs. Albright sent her away too, to some obscure relatives in the countryside no one knew. Before she left, Lena stopped me in the hallway. She was gaunt, her eyes hollow. She said it was Isabella. It was Isabella who had told Victoria everything about her and Leo, including Leo’s home address and contact information. In exchange, Victoria had promised to put in a good word for Isabella with Mrs. Albright, helping her become the ultimate winner. I looked at Isabella, who was not far off, learning flower arrangement with Mrs. Albright. Her face held a gentle, elegant smile, as if she knew nothing. A chill ran down my spine. To climb the ladder, she would gladly trample over her sisters. Only one thought remained in my mind: Escape. I had to leave, now. I used all the money I’d secretly saved, applied through an agency to a top university abroad for a finance degree, and even secured a full scholarship. The day my visa came through, I thought I could finally breathe the air of freedom. I went to Mrs. Albright to say my goodbyes. She was still the picture of gentle affection, holding my hand, rambling on, her eyes even welling up. “Scarlett, there’s no place like home. You’re a young woman, going to a new place where you know no one. How could I not worry?” I smiled. “Madam, I’ll take care of myself. I’ll write to you often.” The next day, as I was dragging my suitcase to the airport, I received a call from the embassy. My visa had been revoked, “due to suspected fraudulent documentation.” I’d also been blacklisted, prohibited from applying for any country’s visa for five years. I stood rooted to the spot, my blood running cold, my hands and feet icy. It was Mrs. Albright. She had cut off all my escape routes, determined to keep me trapped in this gilded cage. That evening, she called me to her study. She dropped her facade, a victorious smile on her face. “Scarlett, don’t blame me. You’re the one I had the highest hopes for among all four girls. I couldn’t bear to let you leave.” She handed me a document. “Brandon needs a capable assistant. You’ll work for him. The closer you are to him, the more opportunities you’ll have. Don’t disappoint me.” It was an employment contract, for the position of Executive Assistant to the CEO of Albright Industries. I stared at her hypocritical smile, my heart a dead space. I took the contract and calmly signed my name. Scarlett. If I couldn’t escape, then I’d turn this place into my hunting ground.
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