Chapter 4

But eventually, the crow died in the first snowfall.

Winter came viciously to the Highlands. Overnight, the world turned white. I braved the freezing wind to check the nest—only a few twigs remained, clinging stubbornly to the eaves.

The nest had collapsed. Below, on the lawn, I found the crow's frozen body.

The crow was gone. I was alone again.

I wanted to die. But they'd made it impossible. Every sharp object had been removed. The manor's upper floors were inaccessible without the elevator, and my wheelchair couldn't reach the stairs.

I tried starvation. They caught on quickly. The servants stopped bringing meals and instead administered IV nutrients daily.

I couldn't live. I couldn't die.

My mental state deteriorated rapidly. Soon I could only lie in bed, kept alive by machines.

Julian didn't want me—but he wanted me alive.

One day, a servant entered my room, turned on the television, and left.

On screen, Julian publicly denied all my achievements in ballet. He claimed every award, every accolade belonged to Isabella—who happened to look like me—and that I'd stolen her glory.

The media erupted. I didn't need to watch to know how the public would judge me.

As expected, everyone called me shameless. Said Isabella was cursed to have a sister like me. That I was an embarrassment to the Vane family.

The scandal consumed the news cycle. At its peak, my parents made a statement.

"We apologize. We failed to raise our daughter properly."

"However, we hope you'll show mercy to Seraphina for our sake."

"We spoiled her. This is our fault. We're truly sorry."

Every word confirmed the lies.

I lay in bed, too exhausted to feel angry.

I thought back to years ago, when I was still a student at the academy.

Before Isabella was found. When I was the only beloved daughter.

Before marrying Julian, when his world revolved around me.

The memories flickered past like a film reel.

Was I dying?

Good. Please, let it be quick. I couldn't endure this suffering anymore.

But I didn't get my wish.

I hadn't gotten a single wish since Isabella came home.

I was lost in memories when a loud thud startled me.

Isabella had fallen to her knees before Julian.

Apparently, he'd just asked if the diary entries were true.

Isabella cried out: "Julian, is that really what you think of me?"

"She's my own sister! I've cherished her my whole life. How could I frame her?"

"If you don't believe me, ask any servant in the house!"

Julian's harsh expression softened. He realized he'd wronged his lover.

He gently helped Isabella to her feet.

"Almost let her fool me again. Yes, I said those things about her—but I also paid to bury the news. How could any reporter have been reckless enough to publish it?"

He opened the diary and continued reading.

"Someone broke into the house. Ragged. Homeless men, by the look of them.

The servants seemed to have vanished.

The men came straight to my room.

My legs were broken. I'd been bedridden for months. I couldn't fight back.

Their yellowed teeth grazed my skin. They panted over my body.

Then they finished.

After that day, they came every day. Always different homeless men.

The servants only appeared when changing my IV. They never cleaned me. Never washed away the filth.

Someone save me.

Or just kill me. Please."

"Isabella came today. Julian didn't.

Her elaborate manicure scraped across my face.

She said I looked like a dried-up corpse now. Filthy. Ugly.

She said even the men were too disgusted to touch me anymore.

She wanted to preserve me at my most beautiful. So she forced a bowl of medicine down my throat.

The medicine was bitter. Not as bitter as my heart.

She didn't need to force me. I would have drunk it willingly. Finally, I could die.

Julian, I never want to see you again. Not in this life or the next."

The diary ended abruptly. The remaining pages were covered in dried blood.

Isabella rushed to speak:

"This is slander! What did I do to deserve these lies?"

For once, Julian—who always defended Isabella—didn't respond.

"You don't believe me? Julian, she's lying!"

Seeing his silence, Isabella panicked.

Julian pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair.

"I believe you, Isabella. I believe you."

"This is poisonous nonsense! Burn that book!"

Someone moved to take the diary.

But Silas slowly raised his head.

"No. Something's wrong."