Chapter 1

After my parents passed away, I was taken in by Colonel Gerald Sutton, my grandfather’s old comrade.

Amara Sutton, twelve years older than me, told me she would take care of me from then on.

And she did. She showered me with blatant, unapologetic favoritism.

But on the day I finished my college entrance exams, I couldn’t hold back anymore—I confessed to her.

Amara pushed me away, disappointment etched on her face.

“Get a grip, Cole! I’m twelve years older than you—I’m your guardian!”

Later, she brought home Damon Lockhart, the man I had never gotten along with since childhood.

And for him, she pushed me off the edge of Ravencliff Canyon.

When I woke up in the ambulance, I dialed a number I had been holding onto for a long time.

Content

The day Amara invited me hiking, rescue workers found me unconscious at the bottom of Ravencliff Canyon.

They performed CPR and bandaged my wounds.

I finally regained some semblance of consciousness, clawing my way back from the brink.

The suffocating sensation of near-death still lingered in my nerves.

Thankfully, the canyon wasn’t too deep; I only ended up with minor fractures.

But Amara had already left with Damon Lockhart.

She didn’t care if I lived or died.

All it took was one word from Damon:

“Let him see what it feels like to take a fall.”

So, she pushed me off.

But I had never been alone with Damon.

I had no idea how he ended up bruised and battered, rolling down the hill.

Damon lay curled up, clutching his leg, trying to appear in agony while stealing glances at me.

“Amara, it’s my own clumsiness. Don’t blame anyone else.”

Amara immediately decided I was the culprit.

“Cole Whitmore, all these years I raised you were a waste. How dare you do something so ungrateful!”

Damon was the man she loved most in her life.

For him, she would turn on me without hesitation.

No matter how hard I tried, I was just the foster son.

Her disdain for me must have started on the day of my graduation party.

That day, I had too much fun with my classmates, getting drunk for the first time in a karaoke lounge.

Amara drove to pick me up, helping me into the passenger seat and leaning over to buckle my seatbelt.

Under the influence of alcohol, my mind was filled with thoughts of Amara’s kindness.

I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her neck and whisper my confession into her ear.

The object of my twelve-year-long crush was none other than Amara Sutton.

Her expression changed instantly.

She shoved me away, disappointment clouding her features.

“Cole Whitmore! I told you to call me Aunt Amara, not by my name!”

“I won’t! Amara is just Amara—not my aunt. We’re not even related by blood. At most, I can call you my sister!”

Amara flew into a rage.

In her eyes, my defiance was nothing more than teenage rebellion.

Our relationship grew more strained by the day.

With her looks and charm, plenty of men were eager to court her.

Yet she waited until she was 34 to announce her engagement.

People whispered that I was the reason she delayed marriage, saying she spent all her time raising a foster son with no room to find love.

Things only worsened after Damon Lockhart showed up.

Amara’s patience with me wore thinner with every passing day.

I knew it was time for me to leave.

Resolving myself, I called Mrs. Fiona Ellis, my late mother’s friend.

“Mrs. Ellis, I’ve made up my mind. I’m moving to San Francisco and will accept the Prescott family’s proposal.”

Her tone was heavy with concern.

“Cole, are you okay? This is a lifelong decision. Don’t make it impulsively.”

When my parents died, Mrs. Ellis had intended to adopt me.

But Colonel Sutton, pitying his comrade’s orphaned grandson, had taken me in first.

Before he passed away, he left a will asking Amara to look after me for life.

“I’m fine. I’ve thought it through. Once I settle things here, I’ll book a flight for next month.”

She was quiet for a moment before replying.

“Alright, I’ll support your choice. If you need advice, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“Thank you. Amara is getting married soon. I want to say goodbye properly.”

Mrs. Ellis agreed.

“She raised you for over a decade. Make sure to thank her—and don’t forget a wedding gift.”

Rain fell cold and steady over New York City’s gray skies.

I had already decided what wedding gift to give.

Back at the Sutton Estate, I found Damon lounging on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other.

Amara was kneeling at his feet, gently massaging his ankle.

The sight was like a dagger to my heart.

When Damon saw me, he greeted me with exaggerated concern.

“Cole’s back! You’re not hurt, are you? Amara can be so harsh sometimes…”

Amara cut him off with a cold glare.

“He brought it on himself.”

Her five words shattered what little remained of my resolve.

Indeed, it was my fault. I should never have fallen for Amara.

I climbed the stairs in silence, pretending not to see their affection.

The housekeeper emerged from my art studio, carrying an armful of things, leaving the room nearly empty.

She looked uncomfortable as she explained,

“Sir, this room has the best lighting. Miss Sutton wants to turn it into a nursery.”

I stared at the paintings tossed aside like garbage.

Once, Amara had told me I was a genius, a future great artist.

She had emptied the best-lit room for me to use as a studio, promising to give me the best the world could offer.

Now, the shards of my heart couldn’t even muster pain anymore.

I forced a faint smile.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Thank you.”

The housekeeper hesitated before finally leaving.

Among the remnants were old sketches and carefully framed portraits I had drawn of Amara for her birthdays.

Packing them into a large box, I stood to find her suddenly at the door.