Chapter 3

The Ashworth family had always placed reputation and tradition above nearly everything else. I'd learned that lesson early on.

When Jimmy's grandfather discovered that his feelings toward Mirasol weren't the ordinary kind a step-brother should have, he'd shipped her overseas without so much as a conversation about it. She was simply gone, just like that.

Afterward, he'd arranged one blind date after another for Jimmy, hoping something might take root.

And somehow, in the middle of all that, Jimmy had noticed me.

Not for who I actually was.

Only because I resembled her.

That particular night remained a blur I could never fully scrub away. My drink had tasted wrong, my head had grown unbearably heavy, and the whole room had spun around me. I remembered his hands, his voice, the way I hadn't even managed to push him back properly.

One of us was searching for love.

The other was searching for money.

And somehow, out of that mismatch, this arrangement had been born.

Something ugly. Something I could never quite bring myself to name aloud.

**

The car rolled to a stop, pulling me back to the present.

The old family estate rose up before me, silent and imposing.

The instant the door swung open, Mirasol bolted straight into Jimmy's arms. "Jimmy, I missed you so much," she said, clinging to him as though she'd always belonged there.

His expression transformed instantly.

Gentle. Tender.

A version of him I'd never once witnessed.

He reached out and pinched her nose playfully. "Why are you barefoot again? What if you catch a cold? Do you even bother taking care of yourself?"

She laughed, leaning further into him. "If I do get sick, you'd have to stay by my side the whole time, wouldn't you?"

They carried on like that, teasing one another as though nothing else in the world existed.

As though they were the only two people who mattered anywhere.

I simply stood there, watching.

What did that make me, then?

The butler drew closer and dropped his voice low. "Sir, the master's health hasn't been good lately. You'd do well to tread carefully."

I understood exactly what he meant.

The last time Jimmy had visited, he'd clashed violently with his grandfather over Mirasol. It had escalated so badly that the old man had needed to be rushed to the hospital that same night.

Jimmy's brow furrowed, clearly irritated. "Why would Grandfather suddenly want to see Iris? What's this about now? More rumors making the rounds?"

Before anyone could respond, a voice drifted down from the floor above.

"Is there something happening that I'm not permitted to hear?"

I looked up.

Grandfather descended the stairs slowly, leaning on his cane yet still moving with steady purpose.

My chest tightened at the sight of him.

Without even thinking, I stepped forward to offer him support. "Careful, Grandfather," I said softly.

He glanced at me and nodded, his expression warming just slightly.

Of everyone in that house, he alone had ever treated me as though I belonged to the family.

But the moment his eyes shifted toward Jimmy and Mirasol, still standing far too close together, something shifted in his gaze.

Fury.

"What kind of behavior is this?" he snapped. "An uncle carrying on with his step-niece in front of everyone watching? Have the two of you lost every last shred of shame?"

Jimmy's expression hardened instantly, and he released Mirasol's hand, though clearly against his will.

"Why did you summon us here?" he asked, his tone flat. "What exactly do you want from Iris and me?"

Grandfather exhaled sharply, coldly. "Your marriage, obviously."

My heart stuttered.

"You've been together five years now," he continued, his voice unwavering. "It's long past time to make things official."

I went rigid.

Marriage?

"Everything has already been arranged," he pressed on, tapping his cane against the floor for emphasis. "One month from today, you and Iris will register the marriage and hold the wedding. There will be no further delays."

Silence fell over the room. Mirasol's face drained of color almost instantly.

I could barely process what I was hearing.

Marriage—after everything that had happened? Did he genuinely believe this could mend anything at all?

"No," Jimmy said abruptly, his voice sharp and final. "I won't agree to this."

The word struck like an open-handed slap. And somehow, even now, it still managed to hurt.

Grandfather didn't hold back.

His cane cracked hard against Jimmy's back. "You ungrateful child!" he thundered, his voice trembling with rage. "You were the one who insisted on being with Iris in the first place. You stood before your parents' graves and swore you'd give her a good life. So what exactly is this now?"

I kept my eyes lowered.

"You've dragged this on for years," he continued, breathing heavily. "Five years. Five entire years. How much longer do you intend to waste this girl's life?"

Five years.

I stood there in silence, but the memories surfaced regardless of whether I wanted them to.

There had been a time when things weren't like this at all.

Even someone as cold and unyielding as Jimmy used to hesitate on my account once. He used to ask for my thoughts before making decisions.

Once, I'd told him to stop hurting people—simply because I disliked it, nothing more calculated than that. And he'd actually spared someone who'd tried to kill him. After that incident, everyone understood he had one weakness.

Me.

When I'd run a dangerously high fever for days, barely conscious, he'd climbed into the mountains himself just to pray for my recovery. I hadn't even known until much later.

And when I'd mentioned once, offhandedly, that I loved white roses, he'd filled the entire villa garden with them.

I'd believed those gestures meant something real.

But eventually, those very same flowers had been renamed in Mirasol's honor.

Just like everything else that had once been mine.

Now Mirasol's eyes had reddened, as though tears were imminent, and Jimmy was looking at her as though the entire world could burn to ash and he wouldn't spare it a second thought.

"I won't marry Iris," he said with finality. "She isn't the one I want."

Not the one.

The words landed, though I gave no outward reaction.

He seized Mirasol's hand tightly, almost desperately, that same reckless, unhinged look I'd witnessed before flickering in his eyes. "The one I love is Mirasol. It has always been her. I won't marry anyone else in this lifetime."

The room seemed to grow colder.

"I can present Iris publicly as my fiancée if that satisfies you," he added, "but I refuse to marry her."

Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees.

The sound of it echoed through the hall.

Mirasol followed immediately, kneeling beside him, her voice shaking yet resolute. "Grandfather... please. Let us be together. I'm begging you."

Grandfather looked, for a moment, as though he couldn't draw breath, his chest heaving too rapidly.

"Get out of my sight!" he finally roared, his voice trembling with fury. "Both of you. Go to the prayer hall and kneel there. Don't emerge until I say otherwise."

And with that, in full view of everyone present, the two of them rose and walked away together, hands still clasped.

As though nothing else in the world mattered.

As though I didn't exist at all.

I watched the entire scene unfold without any visible reaction.

Was I meant to cry?

Or perhaps laugh?

Honestly, I no longer knew.

Slowly, I withdrew a small wooden box from my bag. Inside rested a family heirloom—an expensive sapphire pendant that Grandfather had once gifted me.

He froze the moment he spotted it. "Iris... what are you doing?"

I stepped backward and bowed deeply.

"Grandfather, thank you," I said quietly. "For looking after me these past five years. I won't forget your kindness. But... I can't remain at his side any longer."

He frowned, clearly attempting to say something, to stop me. But my mind was already made up. I set the pendant down gently and turned to leave, without hesitation, without a single backward glance.

As I passed the prayer room, a sound reached me. Heavy breathing. Hushed voices.

My steps slowed, just for an instant.

Through the narrow gap in the door, I caught sight of them.

Far too close. Far too intimate. As though nothing existed beyond the walls of that room. As though they were determined to prove something—even to those who had come long before either of them.

My chest constricted painfully. Then I forced my eyes away.

What reason was there left to stay?

I walked straight out of the Ashworth estate without pausing once.