Chapter 2

This round of sex was pure punishment, brutal and cold. When it was over, Patrick didn't stay. All he left Vivian was the sight of his retreating back.

Vivian trembled as she made her way to the bathroom. She sank into the tub and let the water rise slowly over her body.

Red marks covered her skin, each one a reminder that Patrick didn't love her. More than that—he was sick of her.

But she couldn't control it. Her heart still beat for him, whether she wanted it to or not.

What was she supposed to do?

Last night, he'd slept beside her and whispered Jenny's name in his sleep. In that moment, Vivian felt herself shatter into pieces too small to pick up.

Her phone rang, cutting through the silence.

Vivian forced herself upright and grabbed it. The screen read: Mom.

Vivian took a deep breath, trying to sound normal. "Mom, what's wrong?"

Her mother's voice came through shaking, close to tears. "Vivi, you need to come home right now. Your father—your father's in trouble!"

"What happened to Dad?" Vivian's heart dropped.

"The company's been reported for financial fraud. There are investigators here now. They're saying they need to take him in for questioning..." Her mother's voice cracked. "Vivi, please come home and help us figure this out. The Sterlings have so much influence—ask Patrick to help us!"

Vivian's throat tightened.

Ask Patrick for help? The man who hated her, who only saw her as a replacement—why would he lift a finger for the Perkins family?

But her mother was begging.

"I'll be right there," Vivian said.

She hung up and threw on clothes in a rush. The marks on her neck showed even through a turtleneck. She wrapped a scarf around her throat and hurried downstairs.

She didn't expect what came next.

The moment she stepped into the underground parking garage, a black sedan screeched to a stop in front of her. The doors opened. Two unfamiliar men jumped out and grabbed her from both sides.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Vivian struggled, panic flooding her veins.

A cloth pressed over her nose and mouth, sharp and chemical. The world went dark.

When she woke up, she was tied to a chair with a gag stuffed in her mouth.

She looked around. The place looked abandoned—some kind of old factory. The air reeked of rust and dust.

Footsteps echoed. Someone emerged from the shadows.

When Vivian saw who it was, her eyes went wide. Jennifer.

Her own sister. The woman Patrick truly loved.

She wore a white dress similar to Vivian's style, her long hair draped over her shoulders. Her features bore a faint resemblance to Vivian's—about thirty percent. That was why Patrick had been willing to marry Vivian in the first place.

"You're awake?" Jennifer smiled as she approached, something cold glinting in her eyes.

Vivian made muffled sounds through the gag, as if asking why she was doing this.

Jennifer didn't answer. Instead, she pulled a knife from her bag.

Vivian jerked back in terror.

But Jennifer didn't come closer. She turned to the side.

Then Vivian saw something that made her blood run cold. Jennifer dragged the blade across her own arm. She tore at her dress, mussed up her hair until it hung wild and disheveled.

After mutilating herself, she crouched down in front of Vivian, meeting her eyes. Jennifer's gaze held an almost manic calm. "Vivian, do you know how much I hate you? I met Patrick first. He loved me first. But you're the one who married him."

Vivian's eyes widened. She tried to tell her—she never wanted to steal anything from her.

"Don't look at me like that," Jennifer said coldly. "Our whole lives, you've been the perfect Perkins daughter. Good grades, well-behaved, everyone loved you. And me? I've always lived in your shadow. Now you want to take Patrick too?"

No, it wasn't like that! It was all a misunderstanding!

Vivian wanted to scream, but the gag trapped every word in her throat.

Jennifer stood and pulled out her phone. She started typing.

A few minutes later, she held the screen up to Vivian with a satisfied smile. "Look, Vivian. Patrick's about to get my distress message. I'm gonna tell him his darling wife had me kidnapped because she's jealous. That she sent men to rape me."

Vivian's heart nearly stopped. She shook her head frantically, tears spilling down her cheeks and soaking the front of her clothes. Her eyes begged. Please don't do this.

Patrick would hate her forever.

Jennifer ignored her completely. She turned to the men standing nearby with a triumphant smile.

"Untie her. You can take your money and go. Remember—keep your mouths shut, and the cash will hit your accounts on time. Otherwise..."

The men lowered their heads and got to work.

A moment later, the sound of a car engine echoed in the distance.

Jennifer's eyes lit up. She hurried to the window and glanced out, then turned back with a smug grin. "He's here, Vivian. Remember—you're the one who killed me."

"Jenny! Don't!" Vivian had been untied by now.

She screamed and lunged forward, trying to stop her. But it was too late.

Jennifer didn't look back. She climbed onto the windowsill, her white dress billowing in the wind like the wings of a broken bird. Then she jumped.

"No—!"

Vivian's scream rang out at the same instant tires screeched below.

A few seconds later, a gut-wrenching roar tore through the air from the ground floor. "Jenny—!"

It was Patrick's voice. Vivian had never heard him sound so desperate, so broken.

Minutes later, the factory door slammed open. Patrick stormed in, his eyes bloodshot, feral.

"Patrick, it's not what it looks like—please let me explain..." Vivian's words tumbled out in a panicked rush. She hadn't recovered from the shock yet.

Patrick's gaze landed on her. There was no warmth in it. Only hatred, carved deep into bone.

He walked toward her step by step, the air around him heavy and suffocating.

"Explain?" His voice was ice. "Explain what? How vicious you are? Why you couldn't even spare your own sister?"

"I didn't! Please believe me—she did it herself..."

"Shut up!" Patrick's hand shot out and closed around her throat, the pressure instant and crushing. "I saw the message Jenny sent! She said you had her kidnapped. That you were gonna destroy her! I didn't want to believe it—until I saw it with my own eyes..."

His voice broke. His grip loosened slightly, but the hatred in his eyes only burned hotter. "Until I watched her jump! Vivian, how could you be so cruel? She was your own sister!"

"It wasn't me..." Vivian forced the words out, tears blurring her vision. "It really wasn't me..."

Patrick let go and stepped back like he'd touched something filthy.

His gaze swept the room. It landed on the knife and torn fabric scattered across the floor. His expression grew even colder. "Isn't this evidence enough?"

"No, Patrick, please believe me—I was brought here, I was kidnapped..." She repeated it weakly, but every explanation felt hollow now.

Patrick stared at her, his eyes full of loathing. "Vivian, you killed the person I loved most. I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."