Chapter 1

“You’re such a whore,” my fiancé, Damian yelled, his face twisted with disgust and rage. The sharp edge of his words cut straight through me, leaving me breathless. I couldn’t even find the strength to respond. How could I? His accusation felt like a slap, even before his hand actually struck me.

“I can’t believe you slept with someone else and got pregnant,” he added, his voice rising with each word.

Pregnant? I couldn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense. I was saving myself for him, for our wedding night. I had never even been with anyone, let alone slept with them. I was a virgin. How could I be pregnant? There had to be a mistake. The positive pregnancy test lying on the floor from where he had thrown it had to be a mistake.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone,” I finally stammered, my voice trembling. “I’m not pregnant.”

My words barely escaped my lips before my stepmother’s sharp, icy tone cut me off.

“You’re a cheap prostitute, just like your mother,” she spat, her eyes narrowing with disdain.

My heart sank lower than I thought was possible. The shame and humiliation burned through me like fire, but I knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. I clutched at my chest, trying to calm my racing heart, but it was no use.

“I swear, I didn’t—”

The sting of Damian’s slap lingered on my cheek, burning like fire against my skin. The impact had been so sudden, so unexpected, that I barely had time to react. My mind reeled as the taste of blood filled my mouth. A dull ache pulsed through my jaw, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation that tore through my chest.

Before I could steady myself, Damian’s dark, hateful eyes bore into mine. His face, once the face of the man I thought I loved, twisted into something unrecognizable.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat, his words venomous. He raised his foot and kicked me hard in the stomach.

Pain exploded through my abdomen, and I cried out, crumpling onto the cold floor. My arms instinctively wrapped around my belly. I couldn’t explain it—it didn’t make sense—but something deep inside me screamed that I had to protect it. Despite the confusion and disbelief about the pregnancy, there was an undeniable instinct to shield whatever was inside me.

Damian wasn’t done. He kicked me again, harder this time, and I curled into a tighter ball, trying to make myself as small as possible.

“Liar! Slut!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the room. “You think you can play me for a fool?”

Tears blurred my vision as I lay there, trembling. My stepmother’s voice pierced through the haze of pain.

“She’s just like her mother,” she hissed. “A filthy, lying whore.”

The room erupted with insults, their voices blending into a cruel cacophony. I couldn’t tell who was yelling anymore—Damian, my father, my stepmother, or my half-sister, Oriana. All of them hurled their hatred at me like stones.

“You’re no daughter of mine,” my father finally said, his voice cold and filled with finality.

I turned my swollen, tear-streaked face toward him, hoping for some shred of mercy. But his expression was hard, unforgiving. He grabbed my arm roughly, his fingers digging into my skin, and yanked me to my feet.

“Get out,” he snarled, dragging me toward the door.

“Please, no,” I begged, my voice breaking with desperation. “Please, just listen to me! I didn’t do anything! I swear I didn’t! Please!”

But my words fell on deaf ears. My father didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate. He wrenched open the door and shoved me outside with such force that I stumbled and fell, my knees scraping against the hard, unforgiving pavement.

I cried out as the sharp sting of the concrete tore into my skin, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I looked up at the doorway, hoping someone—anyone—would come to their senses. My stepmother appeared, her face smug and filled with satisfaction.

“Don’t come back,” she sneered. Her words were the final nail in the coffin.

She slammed the door, the sound reverberating in the silence of the night.

I sat there, the cold wind biting at my skin. My sobs came in jagged bursts, loud and uncontrolled. I clutched my arms around my middle, my body shaking as the tears poured down my face.

Everything I had ever known—my family, my home, my fiancé—was gone. They had turned their backs on me, cast me out like I was nothing. The people I thought loved me had betrayed me in the most brutal way.

I tried to stand, but my legs felt weak beneath me. My scraped knees throbbed, and my chest heaved with the weight of my sobs. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cold, empty street.

The night stretched endlessly around me, dark and unforgiving. I was alone—completely and utterly alone..

The sound of footsteps broke through my uncontrollable sobs. My breath hitched as I looked up, wiping my face with shaky hands. Oriana stood there, towering over me with her arms crossed and a wicked smirk spreading across her face. Her presence made the air feel heavier, and my stomach churned with dread.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” she said, her voice dripping with triumph and malice.

Her words froze me in place, like the wind had been knocked out of me. My mind scrambled to make sense of what she’d just said. Plan? What plan?

My heart pounded as the pieces started to fit together. She was behind this. All of it. The accusations, the lies, the pregnancy—it was her doing. My body felt cold as the realization hit me like a second slap. I stared up at her, disbelief and anger fighting to take over.

“Why?” I croaked, my voice barely audible through the lump in my throat.

Oriana’s smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “Because you’ve always acted so perfect,” she sneered, her tone mocking. “The innocent little princess who could do no wrong. Everyone thought you were better than me, but look at you now.”

Her words sliced through me like a knife. I wanted to deny it, to scream that I’d never thought of myself that way, but the cruel gleam in her eyes told me she didn’t care.

“You see,” she continued, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, “when you went to that gynecologist for your checkup, I made sure to handle things. I paid him to implant you with someone else’s sperm.”

My jaw dropped, my breath hitching as her confession sank in. “You… what?” I whispered, my voice trembling with shock and horror.