Few days later, Eleanor Caldwell’s footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floor of her study as she paced, her anger spiraling.
She tightened her grip on her phone, unable to tear her eyes from the blaring headlines that flashed accusations, mockery, and speculation with every scroll.
"Socialite Scandal: Victoria Caldwell’s Secret Fling Caught on Camera!"
"Perfect Heiress or Perfect Disaster? Victoria Caldwell’s Latest Entanglement Raises Eyebrows"The photographs left little to the imagination, Victoria, in a sleek dress, entwined with a man unmistakably familiar to those who kept tabs on high society romances.
Victoria's ex boyfriend, a notorious playboy with an appetite for risk, and an unrepentant grin on his face.
They were pictured just outside a bar, oblivious to the camera’s gaze, Victoria’s hand resting on his chest, the implication clear.
It was an unforgivable slip, one Eleanor knew could easily incite even the family’s closest allies to pull back, or worse, to whisper in places that mattered.
She’d known Victoria could be reckless, impulsive, but this, the exposure, the blatant disregard for her own name, was more than she could bear. And it came just when Eleanor needed Victoria to step up and become the graceful, steady daughter she’d always trained her to be.
She could feel her control slipping, the legacy she’d built for decades beginning to wobble.
The door to the study opened without so much as a knock, and Victoria entered, nonchalant and unhurried, her shoulders back and chin up as if the headlines were nothing but a breeze in her perfectly arranged hair.
Eleanor turned to her, eyes flashing. "Care to explain why half of New York knows about your latest indiscretion before I do?"
Victoria, as always, seemed unaffected, offering only the hint of an amused smile. "It’s nothing serious, Mother. The press exaggerates, they always do. It’ll blow over in a few days."
“‘Blow over’? Is that what you think?” Eleanor’s tone was dangerously low. “Have you forgotten who you are? Or do you just not care?”
Victoria’s expression hardened, but she held her tongue, arms crossing in a show of defiance.
The silence between them deepened.
Eleanor’s fury simmered, fueled by a disappointment she could no longer ignore.
“This is the last straw, Victoria,” Eleanor continued. “We needed you to be an example, a symbol of refinement and integrity. We needed you to represent this family, our values. What do you think this scandal does to all of that?”
The weight of Eleanor’s words settled on Victoria, but her gaze remained steely, her lips curving in an almost mocking smirk. “Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before dragging me into this family,” she retorted coldly. “Before you took me from the only people who would actually care.”
Eleanor’s face paled, but she forced herself to keep her composure.
This jab cut too close to the truth, the fractured reality they’d both tried to ignore. She clenched her jaw, steeling herself against the tide of emotions welling up within her.
She had invested years, countless resources, and unrelenting discipline into Victoria’s future. The idea that it could unravel so easily, because of Victoria’s own self destructive defiance, was unthinkable.
“Very well, then,” Eleanor replied icily, her voice a calculated calm. “Since your loyalty is so fleeting, perhaps I should turn my attention to someone who values this family’s name.”
Victoria’s smirk faltered, a flicker of unease flashing in her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Eleanor said, letting each word sink in, “that perhaps your sister, Sarah, should take a more central role in this family. She at least has the sense to uphold our values.”
At the mention of Sarah, a dark expression crossed Victoria’s face. But Eleanor was relentless, watching her daughter for any sign of humility, any flicker of understanding, yet finding only resentment.
"Sarah," Victoria said, spitting the name as if it were poison. "You think she could take my place?"
"Maybe she could," Eleanor replied, the finality in her tone leaving no room for argument. "She is at least willing to respect what this family stands for, which is more than I can say for you."
For the first time, Victoria seemed genuinely rattled. Her indifference faded, replaced by a fierce, bitter anger.
“You’d replace me with her? A girl who’s barely been in this house? She’s nothing, Eleanor. She doesn’t know the first thing about this life.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t,” Eleanor replied, unruffled. “But at least she’s willing to learn. She doesn’t see this family as a tool for her own amusement. And frankly, Victoria, I am beginning to think that’s more valuable than any pretense of belonging.”
Victoria looked at her mother, her face a perfect mask of indignation, yet underneath, something shifted.
The realization that Eleanor might actually follow through on this threat seemed to strike her deeply. But she held her composure, narrowing her eyes, her voice lowered to a venomous murmur.
“You can let her play house,” Victoria said, her voice laced with a bitter confidence. “But she’ll never be me. She’ll never live up to what you really want, Eleanor. She doesn’t know you like I do.”
With that, she turned on her heel, leaving Eleanor in the silence of the study, the cold weight of her own words settling in.
Eleanor’s heart pounded, her anger still simmering, her gaze drifting to the window overlooking the expansive garden.
Below, Sarah moved through the rows of flowers she’d nurtured herself.
Watching Sarah, Eleanor felt an odd pang, a flicker of a thought that she hadn’t yet allowed herself to acknowledge.
Maybe this girl, so different from the daughter she’d raised, had something essential that Victoria lacked. Perhaps it was time she gave that a chance to grow.
Eleanor and Richard Caldwell read through the impeccably printed letter resting on the table between them.Gold embossed on ivory paper, it was from the Blake family, the wealthiest and most influential family in the city.Their son, Alexander Blake, though recently confined to a wheelchair, was still hailed as the most eligible bachelor.The letter's formality masked what was truly an opportunity, a marriage proposal that could secure the Caldwells’ reputation, possibly even repair the damage caused by Victoria’s recent scandal.“This could be the answer we’ve been waiting for,” Eleanor murmured, her gaze intense as she scanned the letter for the third time. “It would bring stability to our name. Imagine... the Caldwells united with the Blakes.”Richard, seated across from her, nodded with a sigh of relief.The stress of recent weeks had deepened the lines on his face, and the prospect of finally securing Victoria's future, and the family’s reputation, brought a glimmer of hope to hi
Eleanor hesitated before answering, the slightest crack in her voice betraying a hint of pity. “It’s a lot to ask of her, Richard. She’s only just begun to adjust here.”“Adjust?” he repeated, sounding almost amused. “This is her adjustment. She was born into this life, Eleanor, and maybe… maybe this is her true calling. We owe her parents nothing but gratitude for raising her well. Now, she must learn to fulfill the role she was meant to play.”In the silence that followed, Sarah’s hands shook, her grip on the doorframe tightening as she felt the sting of tears she refused to let fall.Her life, a transaction, a fix to save a family she’d only recently met.She’d known her place here was tenuous, yet hearing it spoken so coldly laid bare the isolation she’d felt ever since stepping into the Caldwell world.Then, Eleanor’s sigh reached her again, softer now, almost resigned. “And what if Sarah refuses?”“She won’t,” Richard said, his tone dismissive, as if he’d never even considered t
The Past.St. Mary’s Hospital was quiet in the early hours, the hum of fluorescent lights echoing through stark white corridors as nurses shuffled from one room to the next.Outside, the first hints of dawn struggled against the heavy clouds, casting a pale glow through the windows.Inside the maternity ward, Nurse Evelyn Harper leaned against the counter, fighting a wave of exhaustion.She had been on her feet for nearly sixteen hours, her second double shift this week, and the weight of it pressed into her bones.She closed her eyes briefly, massaging her temples. Just one more check, she thought.One last round, and then she could rest.The nursery lay behind a large glass window where two tiny newborns, each wrapped in soft pink blankets, slept soundly.A little card with their names and times of birth rested on the foot of each crib.Evelyn glanced at the chart and made her way into the nursery, her steps heavy but practiced.She picked up the baby in the first crib, glancing at
Nights on the mountain were peaceful. Sarah would sit by the window, her face illuminated by candlelight as she read the few books they had at home.They were mostly second hand novels, dog eared and worn, but they were treasures to her.She would press her fingers to the faded words, tracing their outlines as if memorizing every curve, every letter.Her mother, Mary, would come in sometimes, her arms full of firewood, her face tired but warm.“Books are like windows,” Mary would say, patting Sarah’s hand. “Even if you can’t see everything yet, they’ll open up worlds for you someday.”Sarah believed her. She knew they didn’t have much, but somehow, her parents made her feel as if the world was hers to explore.She dreamed big, even though it was hard to imagine a life beyond the mountain.One day, when she was fourteen, she sat with her father by the river that ran through the valley. The afternoon sun cast golden flecks across the water, and they sat in comfortable silence, a picnic
Within moments, the silver haired woman was seated at the kitchen table, a porcelain teacup steaming in her hand.James crouched outside, already working on the Bentley’s engine, while Mary laid out a plate of lemon cake and offered Margaret a warm smile.As they sipped tea, Margaret listened attentively, asking Sarah questions about her life, her interests, and the mountain that seemed to shape her very soul.It wasn’t long before Sarah was showing her a sketchbook she kept hidden in her room, each page filled with designs and delicate patterns she dreamed up in the quiet hours.They were tiny works of art, details of wings and leaves, petals unfurling like secrets she was only just beginning to understand.Margaret flipped through the pages with the same careful attention she’d shown the wire sculptures, nodding thoughtfully.“Sarah,” she said finally, her voice soft but serious, “I believe there is something extraordinary within you. Have you ever heard of jewelry design?”Sarah sh
The crisp morning air was strangely still, as if the whole world was holding its breath.At the Caldwell mansion, sunlight spilled through floor to ceiling windows, casting a cool glow over the marble floors.Eleanor Caldwell sat poised on the edge of an ornate armchair, her knuckles white as she held the envelope in her hands.Across the room, her husband Richard paced in front of the towering stone fireplace, his brow furrowed, his eyes locked on the same envelope he held.Meanwhile, miles away in a quiet farmhouse nestled between rolling hills, Mary Miller stood by the kitchen table, her fingers trembling as she stared at the letter in her hands.James sat beside her, his hand resting atop hers.His face was lined with worry and the strain of sleepless nights, yet his gaze was steady, holding onto the hope that the results in Mary’s hands would only confirm what they had always believed.That Sarah was theirs.But neither household was prepared for the truth written in sterile, unf
Eleanor stiffened, but Richard took over, stepping forward and handing a sheaf of documents to James. “These are notarized documents. We’re prepared to offer full financial compensation for Sarah’s education, her living expenses, and more if she comes with us. We intend to give her the life she deserves, and we expect your cooperation.”James looked down at the documents, his face hardening.He could see the unspoken truth in Richard’s words, the desperation lurking beneath their polished veneer.The Caldwells weren’t here because they wanted to right a wrong or embrace the daughter they’d never known, they were here because Victoria, their real daughter, had been a burden too heavy to bear.Whispers of scandal had reached even their quiet village.Victoria’s name had become synonymous with excess, with careless rebellion. It wasn’t Sarah they wanted, it was a replacement.James held the papers at arm’s length, his face tight with anger. “You think you can just walk in here with your
Upstairs, Sarah’s room looked so much smaller than she remembered, her belongings so few and plain against the faded walls.The sight of her life, stripped to its barest essentials, made her chest ache.A stack of old books on her nightstand, filled with scribbled notes and worn pages, the tiny wooden carving her father had given her when she’d learned to read, a small bundle of dried flowers her mother had tied with ribbon and kept in a mason jar on her dresser.She picked each one up slowly, trying to etch the memory of them into her mind.She carefully packed her clothes into a simple duffel bag, the material rough under her fingers as she folded each shirt and dress.She slipped in her sketchpad, its cover worn from years of use, the pages inside filled with designs and notes, sketches she’d drawn while lying on the grassy hill behind the farmhouse.It felt like she was leaving behind more than just her possessions.With every item she packed, she was leaving behind pieces of her
A famous editor from Lune Mode stepped into her path, clutching her designer clutch like it might fly away if she didn’t grip it hard enough. “Darling, that was revolutionary. I haven’t seen a collection that bold and sensual since Windsor’s early years. I must get the exclusive on your next line.”“I’m honored,” Sarah said, already sidestepping. “But for now, we’re committed to in house content through Blake Media Holdings.”Each answer was the same.Each decline delivered with grace.Each proposal deflected without arrogance, but with a poise that asserted her position clearly: She wasn’t desperate for the industry. The industry was desperate for her.And all the while, Alexander walked silently beside her.A quiet shadow to her shining light.He didn’t mind.In fact, he seemed... content. Every glance from the crowd, every stare of awe, every whisper that mentioned “Sarah” and “genius” and “how did we not see it before”, he took it in stride. His pride was personal. Private.And un
Sarah had built an empire in secret.Sarah had mastered the world they had assumed she was too weak to handle.Eleanor placed a trembling hand over her mouth, mourning the loss of the future they could have had.“If we had known,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “If we had known she had this potential…”If we had treated her differently.If we had fought for her.If we hadn’t cast her aside.The showroom had been electric, but now, as the event neared its conclusion, the air hummed with anticipation. Every guest, socialites, industry moguls, designers, and critics, sat at the edge of their seats, hanging onto the night’s final moments.The grand reveal had sent shockwaves through the fashion world. Sarah was Mountain Rose.And now, all eyes were on her.The MC, a well known fashion journalist, stepped forward, adjusting her mic with a knowing smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we close this unforgettable night, we believe it’s only right to hear from the woman who has shaken the
Cecilia let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.It was short, almost bitter, before she clapped a hand over her mouth, as if she couldn’t believe the sound had come from her.Sarah? Sarah was behind Mountain Rose?The woman she had looked down on? The woman she had once mocked, dismissed as nothing more than an inconvenience in her pursuit of Alexander?Cecilia let the truth settle in her chest, and for the first time, she felt something other than resentment.She felt... understanding.This was why.This was why Alexander had never looked at her the same way again.Why he had stopped seeing her, stopped caring for her the way he once had.It wasn’t just because she had betrayed him.It wasn’t just because she had once been the woman meant to be by his side but had chosen herself over their engagement.It was because he had Sarah.And Sarah was everything.Cecilia’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as she exhaled slowly.The realization was almost... freeing.For so long, she
There was an unmistakable challenge in his tone, daring anyone to dispute it.Liam, who had been watching the exchange with quiet intensity, clenched his jaw. His fingers curled around the rim of his glass as he observed the way Alexander looked at Sarah, the quiet devotion in his eyes, the absolute certainty in his words.There was no denying it.Alexander Blake was in love with his wife.Liam exhaled slowly, schooling his features into a mask of indifference, but a flicker of something unreadable lingered in his gaze.Seb, standing further back, simply smiled, a rare, genuine one.Unlike Liam, he had long accepted that Sarah would never be his. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy for her.He had always known she was extraordinary. Now, the rest of the world finally saw it too.As the applause resumed, this time stronger, unanimous, Sarah let out a slow breath.She had won.She had truly won.And as she met Beatrice’s furious, defeated glare, Sarah smiled, a slow, knowing curve
The entire room followed her gaze.The tension was a living thing, thick and suffocating, as realization began to dawn on the guests.“You see,” Beatrice continued, her lips curling into something resembling amusement, “this entire spectacle, this supposed ‘legacy of brilliance’, it’s the work of none other than Sarah.”The name hit the crowd like a dropped glass, shattering the carefully crafted atmosphere of admiration and intrigue.Sarah, standing frozen in place, met Beatrice’s gaze head on. She had expected sabotage. She had even anticipated drama. But she had not expected this level of public exposure, this deliberate act of humiliation staged before the most powerful individuals in the fashion world.“This woman,” Beatrice went on, her voice sharp, “who was fortunate enough to marry into the Blake family, has been deceiving us all. Parading in our world as if she belongs, as if she has earned this level of prestige. Tell me, Sarah...” she tilted her head with faux curiosity, “.
The energy in the room remained electric as guests continued to mingle, sip on champagne, and trade speculation about the mysterious force behind Mountain Rose.Sarah, however, was far too preoccupied to let the gossip faze her. Seated in the VVIP section beside her mentor, Margaret Windsor, and Liam Carrington, she allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction."I must say," Margaret began, her sharp eyes scanning the room with admiration, "you have played this game masterfully, Sarah. Even now, they’re all in a frenzy trying to figure out who’s behind this grand spectacle. Not one of them has guessed correctly."Sarah smiled, taking a slow sip of her champagne. "It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Too many people wanted to see me fail. I couldn’t afford to let my identity be known too soon."Liam chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "And yet, look at them now. Scrambling for answers, when the woman they’re all dying to uncover is sitting right under their noses."Margaret nodded a
Mrs. Beatrice Blake wasted no time. The moment Alexander stepped off the runway and into the luxurious VVIP lounge, she was already there, standing with a wine glass in hand, her expression composed yet sharp."Alexander," she called, her tone holding the perfect balance between curiosity and demand.He turned leisurely, as if he hadn’t just caused an uproar in one of the most prestigious fashion events of the year. He took his time, undoing the top button of his tailored suit, adjusting the exquisite brooch still pinned to his lapel.His mother didn’t even glance at the jewelry. Her focus was entirely on him."Why did you do it?" she asked smoothly, her voice low enough for only him to hear.Alexander smirked. "Do what, Mother?""You know what I mean," she snapped, keeping her tone controlled despite her growing frustration. "Why, in the name of everything logical, would you, Alexander Blake, walk on that runway? For Mountain Rose?”She took a deliberate sip of her wine before contin
Among them, Elise sat frozen, her carefully constructed confidence cracking.This wasn’t what she had expected.She had been so sure her designs would turn heads tonight, that she would steal the spotlight and bask in the admiration.But now?She wasn’t even an afterthought.Everything, the attention, the speculation, the whispers, was all about Mountain Rose.And worse?No one even knew who was behind it.Elise’s jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palm as she shot a sharp glance at Victoria and Cecilia, who looked just as shaken."We need to find out who the hell is running this brand," Victoria muttered under her breath, barely able to keep the venom out of her tone.Cecilia wasn’t listening.Her mind was spinning in another direction entirely.Because there was only one person she suspected.And if she was right, if Sarah was behind all of this, then this wasn’t just a victory.It was a message.A warning that she wasn’t done yet.That she was coming for them.And Cecilia was
Seb, aware of the chaos, allowed himself a leisurely glance at the audience, his eyes deliberately locking onto the ones who stared a little too hard, a little too long.Then, in the most sinfully taunting way possible, he let his smirk widen, dragging his tongue over his lower lip for just a second...A calculated, devastating move.The reaction was instant.Several gasps.Some audible giddy shrieks.A few not so discreet lip bites.One particularly bold woman in a crimson gown reached for her champagne glass, fingers trembling slightly as she whispered to her friend, "I need to have him."The raw, undeniable tension in the room was tangible.Seb knew it.He reveled in it.Because this?This was the effect he had.The moment he reached the end of the runway, he paused, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to let them ache for more.He stood there, under the bright spotlight, exuding dominance in a way that was effortless, natural.Then, with the same lazy arrogance, he lif