Four years later

ELIZABETH POV 

  

  Four years.

  

  That was how long I’d been gone.

  

  Four years since my father threw me out like garbage, pregnant, disgraced, a stain on his reputation.

  

  Four years since I stopped pretending I had a real family.

  

  And yet, here I was.

  

  The gates of the Harper estate loomed in front of me, black iron twisted like the ribs of a skeleton. Cold, proud, just like the man who raised me. A place I swore I’d never return to, yet I was back,because he called.

  

  "Maybe he’s finally ready to be a father," Grandma had said when he called her, voice full of hope I didn’t share.

  

  I knew better.

  

  If Robert Harper was reaching out after four years, it wasn’t love calling me home. It was power. Control. Leverage.

  

  And I was right.

  

  A maid answered the door like I was some unwelcome guest. Not a daughter. Not family.

  

  I stepped into the same cold, polished marble foyer. The chandeliers still sparkled like they belonged in a palace. The silence pressed in like always, full of judgment. This place had never felt like home. It never would.

  

  “Miss Harper,” the maid said stiffly, motioning toward the living room.

  

  I walked in.

  

  There they were—Father, Jessica, and Josephine. The perfect family portrait. Rich, beautiful, and hollow.

  

  Jessica looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes.

  

  “She’s still blonde,” she said under her breath, but loud enough.

  

  I bit back a laugh. Four years, and she was still obsessed with my hair color.

  

  Josephine didn’t even look at me.

  

  “Sit,” Father said.

  

  No greeting. No welcome. Just a command.

  

  I sat.

  

  He leaned forward, fingers steepled, expression unreadable. “Let’s not pretend we’re here for a reunion. I’ve made decisions regarding both you and Jessica. Final decisions.”

  

  Jessica sat straighter, her eyes suddenly glowing with interest.

  

  “I’m under considerable financial strain,” he continued, like we were discussing stocks and not our lives. 

  

  “It’s not permanent, but timing is everything in business, and I need powerful allies.”

  

  His voice was sharp. Clipped.

  

  “I’ve arranged marriages for both of you.”

  

  Silence dropped like a bomb.

  

  Jessica blinked. “Wait—what?”

  

  “You heard me. You’ll both be married. The contracts have been signed in principle, and the final agreement will be sealed tomorrow.”

  

  My heart stopped. “Tomorrow?”

  

  He didn’t blink. “You’ll each be in separate rooms. The men don’t know I have two daughters. We’re keeping this quiet until it’s done.”

  

  Jessica looked like she was about to cry from joy.

  

  “Jessica, you’re marrying Christian Reed,” he announced.

  

  Jessica gasped, her mouth falling open. “Christian Reed? Are you serious?”

  

  She turned to Josephine. “Mum, oh my God! Christian Reed!”

  

  Josephine finally smiled. “He agreed last week.”

  

  Jessica squealed, actually squealed, and clapped her hands like a child on Christmas morning. “I’m going to be Mrs. Christian Reed.”

  

  I sat frozen.

  

  Christian Reed. I’d heard the name. Everyone had. The billionaire,He was young, powerful, ruthless. And gorgeous, if the tabloids were anything to go by.

  

  My heart sank—not from jealousy, but confusion.

  

  Why call me back just to rub it in?

  

  Jessica giggled beside me. “Finally! A husband that matches my worth.”

  

  My stomach twisted.

  

  “And you,” my father said, turning his eyes on me like I was some inconvenience he needed to clean up, “you’ll marry Peter Johnson.”

  

  The words felt like ice.

  

  Jessica stilled. “Wait. Peter? As in Peter Johnson, the sixty-five-year-old CEO?”

  

  My father nodded. “Yes.”

  

  “Ew,” Jessica muttered under her breath.

  

  I found my voice. Barely. “He’s... old.”

  

  Father’s eyes narrowed. “He’s rich. He’s agreed to clear part of my debts if you marry him.”

  

  “A part?”

  

  He ignored me.

  

  “You’ll meet your respective husbands tomorrow,” he said, like we were items on a to-do list. “Separate rooms. No confusion. I expect full cooperation.”

  

  Jessica laughed. “That’s why you called her back? To marry her off to Grandpa Johnson while I get the prince?”

  

  Josephine didn’t say a word.

  

  I stood. “You’re selling me off for money.”

  

  “You sold yourself when you opened your legs and got pregnant,” he snapped.

  

  My breath caught.

  

  Jessica smirked, victorious.

  

  “You humiliated this family. You owe me.”

  

  “I’m not marrying some old—”

  

  “If you don’t,” he said, standing too, “you’ll never see your son again.”

  

  Silence. Thick. Choking.

  

  I couldn’t breathe.

  

  “You bastard,” I whispered.

  

  He stepped closer. “Watch your tongue, Elizabeth. Or I’ll bury you so far no one will remember you exist.”

  

  I clenched my fists. “Why didn’t you call Jessica back to marry him?”

  

  He smiled, cruel and cold. “Because she’s valuable. You are... expendable.”

  

  My throat burned. But I didn’t cry.

  

  “You’ll do this. You’ll sign the contract. And you’ll be invisible until it’s over.”

  

  I stared at him, stunned. “Invisible?”

  

  He nodded. “No appearing at dinner. No unnecessary talking. And tomorrow, no drama. He walk in. You sign. You leave. Am I clear?”

  

  I nodded slowly.

  

  He turned his back to me like I was already gone. “Peter arrives at ten. Christian at eleven. The rooms will be prepared. I expect you to be dressed and silent.”

  

  Jessica grinned like she’d won some twisted game. “You’ll always be second best, Lizzy.”

  

  I walked out before I broke.

  

  I didn’t cry.

  

  I didn’t scream.

  

  But inside—I shattered.