The room felt cold, the hotel’s air conditioning chilling me to the bone. But it wasn’t just the temperature—it was the betrayal freezing my heart.
I glanced at Ezail one last time, my fists loosening as I gave up on finding an answer.
The truth was already clear. To people like them, I was nothing more than a toy, someone to entertain them when they were bored.
Holley’s voice turned sharp.
“Even if you’re part of the Gregory family now, you’re still nothing more than a servant’s child. You’re uncultured, unworthy.”
“Mom and Dad love me more. I’m the real treasure of the Gregory family.”
Even though I had been taken back by my biological parents, I was only a tool for their plans, nothing more. Holley, the daughter they had raised, was the one they truly cherished.
They never gave me a penny, and Holley keeping Ezail around only made things worse for me.
She raised her hand, showing off a flashy ring on her finger, her eyes daring me to react.
“We’re getting married soon. Try not to be too jealous, sis.”
I had heard enough. I turned to leave, but Holley’s voice stopped me again.
“How is Margarette these days?” she asked with a twisted smile. “I bet she’s suffering.”
I froze, my back to her. Margarette, my adoptive mother, was also Holley’s biological mother.
“She’s dead,” I said quietly, my voice strained.
“She passed away three years ago.”
I didn’t look back as I left. The last thing I wanted was to talk about Margarette.
Despite her gentle name, Margarette had been anything but kind. She controlled every part of my life—forcing me to practice piano, attend dance lessons, and keep up with school. If I slipped up, I was locked away in a dark room.
When I found out she wasn’t my real mother, my resentment only grew.
I hated her for stealing my childhood, for shaping my life into something I didn’t want. She never showed me the love I craved, never gave me the praise I needed.
Meanwhile, Holley, her real daughter, had lived freely, enjoying the life I had been denied.
Furious, I stormed back into the hotel. I ignored Holley’s smug look and Ezail’s hesitant expression.
“Marla…” I heard him call, but I pretended not to hear.
I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the counter and smashed it on the floor, kicking over the champagne glasses next to it.
As the sound of breaking glass filled the room, I shouted,